'Dominated by the Librarian' (Male submission erotica) - The complete series

by Tara Jones

  But reality was knocking on my door, forcing me to return to my ordinary life.

  “I need to contact my boss,” I said at last to Eleanor.

  “It has already been taken care of,” Kithira said offhandedly. She was leaning against the large fridge in brushed steel, sipping a cappuccino. She looked like an assassin having a coffee break.

  “What do you mean ‘it’s taken care of’? I need to ring my job. We have… we had an important meeting today!”

  “No, you didn’t,” Kithira said, annoyingly composed. “It was cancelled. But don’t worry, your agency will get the contract. It has all been sorted out. And you texted your employer before eight o’clock this morning and told him you’ve got the flu.”

  “No,” I said slowly. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that. And how do you know that the meeting was cancelled?”

  “Is he always like this?” Kithira asked Eleanor, ignoring me.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” she answered.

  “Why do you keep him then?” Kithira asked. “Is it because he’s good looking or because you like him in bed?”

  “Hello? I’m sitting right here!”

  I wondered if I had suddenly become invisible. Both women ignored me completely, and I threw my hands in the air and reached for the tea pot. Sullenly, I sipped my tea.

  “A little bit of both, I suppose,” Eleanor said with a smile, clearly enjoying that I was getting more and more irritated.

  Kithira studied me, which made me feel strangely uncomfortable. I hid behind my tea mug.

  “You should tell me if you want to share him,” she said finally to Eleanor.

  I started to laugh. I think it was her perfectly neutral tone and her Russian accent that did it. I couldn’t help myself; she was so funny in a deadpan kind of way. Underneath her hard surface, she clearly had a wonderful sense of humour. I nearly choked on the tea and I snorted it up my nose, making me laugh even harder until tears came rolling down my cheeks.

  “Why is he laughing?” Kithira asked with furrowed brows.

  “He thinks that you’re joking,” Eleanor explained. She tapped her index finger on her lips, pondering and then she said to my immense disbelief, “Maybe I’ll share him later on, but right now he’s only mine.”

  I stopped laughing abruptly and looked from one to the other, before I forced my mouth shut with an effort. I had never been around two attractive women seriously discussing a possible threesome with me. In fact, the whole scenario felt incredibly unreal.

  I could think of absolutely nothing to say.

  Kithira shrugged, but there was a shadow of something predatory in her dark eyes as she watched me that made me feeling slightly on edge.

  “Perhaps later then,” she said with the smallest of smiles.

  I wasn’t completely sure if her comment was aimed at me or Eleanor. I swallowed hard and looked away from her.

  “Oh, and I think we’ll go out tonight,” Eleanor said and to my vast relief she changed the subject. “I’m in the mood for an opera and dinner. What do you say, Peter?”

  I had never been to an opera in my entire life, but I was happy that she wanted to spend the day and apparently the evening with me. I said that it sounded nice, although I wasn’t sure I would enjoy watching people dressed in historical gowns and listening to them sing in shrill falsetto.

  “I can book… Wagner and… O.P.,” Kithira said. O.P was one of the fanciest restaurants in London, and both the food and the prices were said to be unbelievable. She had produced something that looked like a sleeker version of an iPad from a shoulder bag and her fingers moved with incredible speed over the screen, shuffling icons in various directions. “By the way, how was the movie yesterday?”

  “Which m–” I started to say when Eleanor swiftly kicked my leg. “Ow,” I added lamely, because she managed to kick really hard, even though she was sitting next to me on a bar chair.

  Kithira went very still all of a sudden, but I could see the muscles around her neck tense. She looked up, her face perfectly neutral, her dark eyes unreadable.

  “Tell me what happened,” she said to me in a flat voice.

  “Eh…” I threw a quick glance at Eleanor, who sighed. “Well. Ah. We were sort of in a car chase…”

  Kithira forced me to tell me the whole story from beginning to the end. Her mouth turned into a perfectly thin line, but otherwise she showed no sign of her thoughts or emotions.

  “You did not plan to tell me,” she said to Eleanor after I was finished.

  “No. I didn’t,” Eleanor admitted. “I was attacked, but it was nothing serious, really.”

  I wouldn’t exactly have described it like that, I thought, but held my tongue.

  I didn’t want to get kicked again.

  “Nothing?” Kithira’s voice was so dangerously calm she might as well have shouted. “It changes everything,” she continued. “You’ll need to leave, Miss Eleanor. I can book you in tonight if you want to go to L.A.… Or Tokyo… Oh, what about Sicily? The weather is nice. Or, let’s see… You can take the morning flight to the Seychelles. It’s been ages since we were at Petit Praslin.”

  Kithira’s fingers moved at an unnatural speed on her tablet, but then her hands went suddenly still.

  “Or you could go to your father’s house in Florida,” she said after a while. “You know the security there’s excellent.”

  The open kitchen went very quiet, and the silence stretched until it felt like it was crushing in on me, smothering me.

  The day before, Eleanor had told me that her father was Walter Wyndham, one of the richest and most powerful men in the UK, possibly after only the British royal family. She had also told me that she had separated herself from her family, although she hadn’t explained why.

  “I don’t think that it will be necessary to go there,” Eleanor said slowly, articulating every word carefully.

  “It’s your decision, or course,” Kithira said levelly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve to take your car to the mechanic. I’ve booked your opera tickets and made reservations at O.P. I’ll come by at six.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t need a bodyguard tonight,” Eleanor said lightly.

  The two women locked gazes with each other. I felt the tension increase in the room.

  “You decide many things, Miss Eleanor,” Kithira said in a low voice, her accent more prominent that before, “But in this case, there’re no exceptions. I’m coming with you tonight, whether you like it or not. I’ll keep my distance, but I’ll be there.”

  “Fine,” Eleanor said after a while.

  “Excellent.” Kithira smiled. She folded her tablet and placed it into her shoulder bag. “I’ll see you at six,” she said professionally as she left the apartment. “Have a nice day.”

  Eleanor lowered the small espresso cup and placed it on the white porcelain plate. Her eyes met mine.

  “We’re alone,” she said.

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  She tilted her head to one side and said simply, “Take off your clothes and go to bed.”

  Although I wasn’t completely sure if she was serious or not, I’ll admit that I was more than a little bit eager to instantly obey her.

  Eleanor made me undress completely and then, slowly and almost sensually, she carefully wrapped each of my wrists with soft leather bands while I stood naked in front of her.

  “It will protect your skin against the handcuffs,” she explained and I was somehow touched about her tenderness in an odd and slightly twisted way. She did plan to chain me up and possibly use me after her own desire and whims after all.

  Eleanor was much shorter than I was, so I had to bend down for her to place the black leather collar around my neck.

  “It suits you,” she said after she had adjusted the buckle of the collar around my neck. Her hand lingered on my naked shoulder. “We should have it engraved later.”

  “Okay,” I mumbled, not entirely sure of what she meant.

  I had–to
my eternal embarrassment–bought both the leather bands and the collar together with several other items from a sophisticated sex toy shop in Camden earlier, following Eleanor’s instructions. Some of the things that I had bought I wasn’t entirely comfortable with, while some of the other items definitely set my imagination in motion.

  “Now lay down,” she whispered and I did as she asked.

  There was something rather ominous about the sound of the metallic click, as the handcuff snapped shut around my right wrist. Unnerving, but also exciting.

  “Listen,” she said in a low voice close to my ear, “And listen very carefully now.”

  “All right,” I said with one hand chained to the wrought iron bedpost.

  I resisted the urge to pull against my bindings and I could feel my erection stirring underneath the sheets. Clearly there was something about the metal handcuffs that my subconscious and other male parts liked. More than liked, to be honest.

  “Remember that I said that I would punish you for returning the library book you borrowed too late?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” I said, forcing my voice to become steady.

  I thought she was joking, but I wasn’t sure. I had problems concentrating properly, distracted by the hard metal that surrounded my wrist. Being chained up with handcuffs was a little bit unsettling, but it also started to turn me on, I realized as I started to fantasize about what she may or may not do to me next.

  “Do you know what a ‘safe word’ is?” she asked as she straddled me and slowly leaned forward.

  I felt the inside of her thigh brush against my erection under the sheet. I licked my lips and cooperated politely, as I lifted my other arm to the iron metal frame so that I lay on my back and had both of my arms over my head.

  She had taken off her silk bathrobe and the late morning light revealed her white lace and rather old fashioned nightshirt. It would have looked ghastly on anyone else. In fact, it looked like it would have been perfectly proper for nuns to wear, but on her…

  On her, it looks perfectly mouth-watering and ridiculously tempting, I thought.

  It was a little bit too short and when she straddled me, it hitched up to expose her curvy legs. I felt myself grow harder and I stifled a groan of frustration. I wanted her now, but I knew that she would force me to wait. Still, the teasingly light feeling of her closeness and the way her legs brushed against me made me involuntarily move my hips slowly forward, closer to her body.

  “Yes, I know what it is,” I answered and tried to control my thoughts.

  I had done my own private research online after our first meeting, when she had forced me down on the floor at the local library and then more or less ravished me.

  “Very good,” she said and let one finger run along my cheek, my neck, along my chest, and slowly further down.

  I felt my muscles around my pelvic area tense, and without thinking, I pushed my hips forward, hoping that her small hand would continue in under the sheets, but she paused just below my belly button, teasing me.

  Click.

  The other handcuff locked around my wrist, so the chain that connected the handcuffs was on either side of the metal rods of the bed frame. It vaguely occurred to me that there might be a reason why Eleanor had a wrought iron bed that seemed to be very solid.

  “Now, I’m going to do things with you that I like, and I’ll do more or less whatever pleases me,” she said. “But there're limits and since I don’t know exactly where you draw the line or what you can handle, you’ll have to tell me if I go too far.”

  “All right,” I said, my voice slightly hoarse.

  “I may not care if you say ‘stop’ or ‘no’ or something similar, and that’s why we’re going to use a safe word. Some people use really complicated safe words or they use words that they would normally never say during sex.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t want to interrupt her.

  “For me, it’s quite simple. If things are getting out of hand and since we’re using real metal handcuffs, the last thing I want is for you to panic. If you feel that you’re getting nervous, uncomfortable, or scared, say the word ‘orange’. If things are really getting out of hand, the word you use is ‘red’. I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and release you instantly. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I replied, already feeling nervous, but in an excited and curious way.

  She can actually do whatever she wants to me now, I thought and felt myself grow firmer. Anything she wants.

  “You have to trust me,” she explained, “If you do, there’s so much that I can show you and for you to enjoy.”

  “I understand,” I said and licked my lips.

  “But it works both ways. You have to tell me if I’m going too far.”

  “Sure.”

  Her lips curved into a smile, revealing the dimples that showed only when she was smiling broadly. She reached over the edge of the bed and rummaged through the elegant glossy shopping bag from Camden that I had brought with me the day before. The shopping bag was decorated with the initials of the sex toy shop’s name discretely printed in black and grey.

  In my mind, I went through the various items that I had bought, wondering and worrying a little bit over what she would pick. To my relief her small hand came up with a black blindfold, one of the more harmless items that I had purchased.

  “Although, of course I would prefer if you don’t… object,” she said softly as she tied the blindfold carefully over my eyes.

  The blindfold was made out a thick material and she made sure that it was tightened so that no light could sneak past. It was momentarily disorientating.

  We humans depend so much on our eyesight and we often take it for granted. Now, however, when it was taken away from me, I felt vulnerable and exposed, but I also became more aware of my other senses. Suddenly I heard my own uneven breathing more clearly and I noticed that I could hear London’s traffic far below us. I recognized the scent from Eleanor’s conditioner, but also the faint smell of books and the fabric softener from her sheets. When she moved slightly, I felt her weight shift on the bed and her body warmth against me.

  “In fact, I may reward you if you don’t protest… too much,” she continued.

  I was going to reply, when I felt her hand glide in under the sheets and her fingers surrounded the shaft of my erection. Her action instantly made my mind go blank and I inhaled sharply.

  Without thinking, I reached for her. I wanted to stroke her rounded breasts and cup her bottom, preferably to move her closer so I could enter her. I didn’t want to wait; I was already turned on and more than ready.

  But the chains stopped me. The chain between the handcuffs rattled against the iron-wrought bars of the bed and I felt them dig through the leather bands into my wrists as I tried again.

  She laughed coyly at me.

  “You can’t,” she said in an amused voice, while she continued to stroke me. Her thumb rubbed the top of my erection, making small circles and gliding back and forth over the head. I groaned with pleasure and once again tried to reach for her, but the handcuffs and the chain stopped me. She leaned closer, whispering in my ear, “I like it when you struggle.”

  Her voice sent a shiver down my spine and with a stifled groan, I pressed myself closer to her. She laughed softly again and teasingly pressed my erection against her soft body. She pushed her hips closer, meeting my movements with her own. The soft hair between her legs tickled lightly against me.

  So close, but still out of reach.

  She was naked under the nightshirt and I could feel that she was starting to get excited and moist. I groaned again and helplessly tugged at the chain while I moved my hips against her. It was rather ineffective and only served to made me even more turned on. The combination of the sensation of being chained up and at the same time teased by Eleanor had a swiftly corrupting effect on my morals.

  “Please,” I mumbled.

  “Oh, are you begging now, Peter? Already?” she asked. When her fing
ers glided over my erection again, they were wet with saliva. “But we haven’t even started yet.”

  I felt her lean forward and her lips softly touched mine. Eagerly I tried to kiss her. I hungered for her in a way that I had never felt before. In vain, I pulled against the handcuffs and the chain that connected them. I felt my muscles strain when I tried to get free, but somehow it only served to make me more excited.

  I had thought that being chained up would make me feel helpless and perhaps claustrophobic and trapped, and in a way it did–but it also made me feel wild and somewhat out of control in a way I hadn’t expected. Untamed, if you like.

  “I can do anything I want with you right now,” she said softly, almost to herself, stroking me lightly while she let her fingertips circle one of my nipples. “Anything.”

  Unexpectedly, she suddenly pinched one of my nipples and I gasped, more because of surprise than actual pain. I made a small noise in the back of my throat, but I didn’t say anything.

  “No complaints?” she said and I could almost feel her smile at me. “Good.”

  She moved closer, stroking my erection up and down, rhythmically and a little bit more firmly than before. It made me moan with pleasure while her other hand circled my other nipple.

  This time I knew that she was going to pinch me. I heard her sigh softly as she moved her body closer to mine so that my full length was pressing against her body and then she pinched me again, a little harder this time, while she kissed me deeply at the same time, letting her tongue meet mine.

  I knew what she was doing now. She was rewarding me for not complaining or protesting. The combination of mild pain mixed with pleasure wasn’t entirely unpleasant, I started to realize.

  She bent down and licked my nipple slowly and then gently bit it. Not too hard, but hard enough for a short spike of pain. I moaned quietly in response. I don’t like to get hurt, but the way she did it, with pain instantly followed by pleasure and rewards, was undeniably very, very satisfying in an unexpected way. The pain gave a certain edge to the pleasure, like salt and sugar in a way.

  It made everything feel more real and increased all emotions, including my desire for her. That it was wrong and kinky, combined with making Eleanor more and more turned on, only made it more interesting and exciting.