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The Librarian

38900 words

Style: Male Dom - M/F, Sex Slavery / Training

Hannah had her masters in Library Sciences, a big student loan, and no job. She is forced to accept a temporary job cataloging the library of the very brash, arrogant, nouveau riche Lord Carling in his old manor house. Yet part of the library contains rare books on bondage and slavery by the likes of the Marquis de Sade, which intrigues her dark inner fantasies. When she discovers a hidden passage down to an ancient dungeon she is fascinated. Yet when she manages to accidentally lock herself in a cell and is discovered by Carling she finds herself plunged into a darkly erotic relationship of submission and bondage to the dominant multimillionaire. Hannah will discover just how much pleasure -- and discipline -- she can take at his hands, and immerse herself in the life of an obedient slave girl to a nobleman who is not exactly noble.

Price:  $7.00

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There was a stone stairway there, and she followed it down, heart thumping, wondering if she'd find treasure, or perhaps the skeletons of old pirates.
It was an awfully long staircase, she thought, going down past the basement, into who knew where! When she reached the bottom she searched about, found the outline of a doorway, and then a small lever which allowed her to pull it inward. She slipped out and swung the flash about, lighting up a dark stone hall of sorts. Again, like the passageway it was oddly clean. In fact, the floor looked polished!
That was disappointing, in a way, for it indicated this was no long-lost hideaway, but something which must be used still. Perhaps it was a wine cellar? The walls were of rough stone, but the floor was of very clean square stones, and as she moved around, it reflected the light ahead. To her right and left were broad, rounded doorways in the stone wall. The right giving onto a large group of wine racks. But it was the left which interested her.
Both openings were about ten feet or so across, and covered with bars. There was a doorway, also of bars, in the midst of each, though, and neither were locked. On the wall next to the opening on the left was a plaque. This is the original underground detention area of the Lords of Eastwick, and dates to the fifteenth century, when the present location was occupied by Eastwick Castle.
She pushed open the one on the left and found herself in a long, low room with odd contraptions spaced about. They were clearly torture devices, and from the evident age of the wood they looked like the original contrivances. Hannah gazed at them in fascination. She had always loved history, and the thought of seeing, and even touching, torture devices which might have been used six hundred years ago was quite exciting.
There was the rack, obviously. There were shackles hanging from the ceiling in places, perhaps to hold people suspended. There was the wheel, to be bent back upon, and a whipping post. There was a much-scarred table with shackles spaced at the corners, to be used for God knows what, and a small cage hanging from the ceiling!
One item made her blush to see it. It was a T-shaped frame, with shackles along the top and a very phallic looking thing projecting up and out from the vertical portion. She imagined some poor man – or woman – bound to it, impaled through the bottom, and otherwise hanging there! How horrible!
Beyond these were the cells, with shackles on the walls. Her heart was beating more quickly, and she imagined being imprisoned in one of the barred cells, shackled to the wall, awaiting the tender attentions of the torturer. She stepped into one of the cells, making sure the door was not the type to swing closed and lock her in, and examined the walls, looking to see some sort of sign of previous tenants. But perhaps, if they were shackled they couldn't do anything like scratch off the days on the wall.
The shackles seemed fairly obvious in their operation. They were hinged, and the locking tongues fit into one of several little holes, depending, she supposed, on the thickness of the wrist to which they were bound.
She turned and pressed her back against the stone wall, then raised her arms dramatically, imagining she was locked in there, helpless, perhaps even … naked... awaiting the cruel attentions of a lecherous jailor!
Perhaps someone like Lord Carling.
She felt a throbbing between her legs which was echoed a moment later by a tingling in her nipples. She felt a temptation to strip herself, to press her naked body back against the stone, and let her imagination run riot. But no, there was no way she was going to risk being exposed to Carling yet again! The man had already seen far more of her naked body than was anywhere close to being decent!
But.. the heat in her body was rising at the mere thought of doing it, of being naked, pretending she was a prisoner, and the heat was making her certainty waver. What were the odds he'd come down just then? But no, not going to happen, she told herself firmly. The clothes are staying on!
She examined the shackles again, and felt a sense of breathlessness as she slipped her wrist into one. She closed it, letting the little metal tongues slip into the opening so it was locked firmly around her left wrist. Then she turned the old key in the stiff lock to lock it. Her breasts were hot now, her chest tight, as she turned and pressed herself against the wall, laying her head back.
She had trouble balancing the flash and the key, and so turned around again, unlocked the shackle, and then set her flash down before returning. The key didn't really need to be held she realized, for the lock was stiff and it stayed in on its own. She locked the shackle around her left wrist again, then closed the other one and pressed her wrist against the wall to snap it together. She didn't try to lock it, however. That wasn't necessary to her fantasy.
She turned her back to the wall and felt her heart beating excitedly as she looked out at the bars, then the darkened room beyond. She wished she'd thought to close the door of the cell, but she'd not wanted to risk it somehow locking. Still, she pulled firmly against the shackles, wanting to bask in the sensation of ancient imprisonment.
It would have been so much more exciting had she been naked, though. She wondered if she dared come back in the middle of the night. There were surely no safety alarms down here to catch anyone's attention.
She ground her bottom against the rough stone, feeling her breathing become more ragged, and then decided she had had enough and had better get back upstairs before her absence was spotted. She turned around and tried to open the unlocked shackle around her right wrist, but the release was very stiff. Her thumb ached as she pressed against it, and she felt the first sparkle of anxiety. She cursed softly, pressing from one side, then the other, becoming more anxious as it failed to give.
She shook the chains violently, smashing the shackle against the wall, and the button gave, the shackle opening at the lever and her arm dropping out.
At the same time, the key dropped out of the other shackle.
She stared at it stupidly, one wrist free, the other still held aloft. It had fallen to the floor and bounced just off to the side. It was really quite close – just not close enough.
She closed her eyes in horror. How long, she wondered, until that slimy Lord Carling went to the library to taunt her, found the passage open, and came down here to find her locked up like this!?
Then she knew a worse fear. What if he went to the library, didn't see her, and went away, not going to the back to spot the open passage? Then she could be standing like this for hours! For hours and hours and hours!
How utterly stupid she was!
She tried to reach the key with her foot, but couldn't quite stretch that far. She glared at it furiously. Carling would mock her endlessly if he found her like this!
If she could only reach the key, she thought, it should be possible, given how thick it was, to grasp it in her toes, and then pull it up so she could grasp it with her free hand. Then she could unlock herself. But try as she would she couldn't quite reach it.
Then the idea came to her, that if she took off her long skirt, she could swing it out and drag the key back to where she could reach it with her foot. But she shied away from that in case Carling showed up.
An hour passed, then another, or at least, she thought that was how long had passed. It was rather hard to tell. Cursing, she undid her skirt, raising her right knee high and tugging the skirt down. She stepped out of it with one foot, then the other, then grasped it by the waistband, tried to sweep the key closer. Unfortunately, the skirt was not quite long enough, so she put it back on.
The blouse she was wearing was a light summer frock with spaghetti straps. Getting it off would be easy, except for the part over her left shoulder. She would have to tear the strap to free herself of it. After waiting what felt like another hour, she gave it a try. She tore the thin fabric and pulled off the blouse, then, trapping the fabric of the skirt between her bottom and the wall, she untied it. She then carefully, with just one hand, tied the strap of her blouse to the belt loop of her skirt.
When she was confident it would hold, she slipped the skirt off, heart thumping at how nearly naked she was – again! – and the danger of being found just then by Carling. She held the skirt by its hem and swept it down and in, so that her blouse caught at the key and pulled it closer. She tried a second time, and the key slid closer still. A third time brought it within reach of her foot, and she toed off her shoe, then tried to grip the key with her toes.
She started to raise it, but it fell and bounced away again. Cursing, she pulled the skirt off her shoulder, where she'd rested it, and slid her hand to the bottom again, then swung it overhand.
A sudden loud clanging sound made her cry out in alarm. She started, eyes wide, and the hem slipped from her sweating fingers.
Hannah closed her eyes and shuddered in horror. She gazed miserably at the clothing piled on the floor just beyond her reach, the key invisible underneath. She could hear some sort of machine sound now, perhaps the boiler or furnace, and no doubt that sound had been them starting up.
Hannah felt tears of frustration well up in her eyes. It was so bloody unfair! Why were these things always happening to her!? It wasn't her fault! She wasn't a pervert or a fool! Was she!?
Now she was doomed to be caught yet again, practically naked in a very compromising position!
She looked down at herself miserably. At least she was wearing matching undies. She was wearing actual panties, instead of the thongs she often wore, and a halter type bra which completely covered her breasts. They were a matching set, whitish and purple, and she had purple knee-high socks on beneath. The panties were rather low on her belly, with very thin straps sliding across her hips, but everything that needed to be covered was. What she was wearing would be a reasonably modest bathing suit, she tried to reassure her pounding heart.
What felt like another hour passed, and she groaned weakly. She gave some thought to removing her bra, somehow tying her shoe to a strap, then swinging it down to get her clothes back, but the way her luck was going she'd lose them, too and that would be even more humiliating when she was discovered.
She gloomily wondered if the secret passage door had swung closed again, leaving them with no idea where she was. Could she be down here for days!? The idea was appalling! She jerked furiously at the shackle around her wrist, but succeeded only in hurting herself.
What if she was never found!? Or what if it was weeks later!? Maybe they'd think she had run off after her recent confrontation with Carling, too embarrassed or angry to continue? What if her body was discovered weeks or months from now!?
The light began to dim, so slowly at first she hadn't even noticed, then abruptly, it went out.
She moaned softly, feeling her eyes well up with tears again, then gave up and started crying, miserable, hopeless, and furious at the situation. That didn't help, however. She wiped her face and groaned, her legs stiff, her shackled hand cold.
More time passed, she had no idea how much, and then she was shocked as light blinked on in the outer room. It was yellowish and warm, and she blinked her eyes rapidly against it, feeling a surge of terrible relief. She didn't care who saw her in her undies now.
“Hello!?” she cried.
She heard footsteps, and now blushed a little, closing her legs tightly and crossing her free arm across her chest. Lights she hadn't even known existed came on in the cell. They were small, candle shaped sconces up on the walls, and she shielded her eyes against them as a figure moved through the door.
“Quinn, I begin to despair for you,” Carling sighed.
She flushed, both relieved and embarrassed.
“Whatever are you doing?”
“I... the... I was just... and the thing locked and... the key fell out and I couldn't... and I tried...”
“Did you actually lock yourself up there by accident?” he asked in amusement.
“I didn't bleeding do it on purpose!” she shouted.
He chuckled merrily.
“Unlock me!”
“I don't think you're in any position to be making rude demands, Miss Quinn,” he said loftily.
She flushed as he came closer and stood before her. He gripped her arm and examined the shackle around her wrist.
“The key is under my clothes,” she gulped.
He grinned, and looked down at her bra.
“Not under that!” she snapped. “On the floor!”
“Pity, searching in there would be considerably more interesting.”
“Just... unlock me... please,” she said, face flushed.
“However did you lock just one wrist up?”
“I... it's a long story.”
Her relief at him finding her vastly outweighed her irritation at him, and her embarrassment was tempered by the undeniable fact he'd already seen her in far less.”
“Hmm, so this is supposed to be up here, too. Is that how it works?” he asked slyly, taking her free wrist and lifting it up beside the first.”
“Yes,” she said nervously, feeling the start of a strange pressure in her groin.
“Like this?”
He slipped the other shackle around her right wrist.
“Hey! What... stop it! Carling!”
He grinned, releasing her wrist, which was once again bound by the shackle.
“You're not the least bit funny!” she snapped, a tightness in her chest.
“Oh but I do amuse myself, and really, that's all that's important?” he said with a grin, “So what were you doing down here? Snooping?”
“I wasn't...! I was … the door opened up in the library, by accident and I... I just...”
“Went snooping.”
She pulled angrily against the shackles “I wasn't snooping! I was just... exploring.”
“And the difference between snooping and exploring is what?”
She glowered sullenly at him. Let him have his fun. She would not reward it.
“As I am the lord of the manor, I suppose I should punish you for violating my privacy like this,” he said. “Perhaps spending the night down here might suffice.”
“You wouldn't dare!”
His hand reached out and brushed back her tangled bangs.
“Been crying?”
“I was not,” she said, jerking her head aside.
“You have no need to cry, my dear. No harm will befall you in my manor,” he said softly.
His finger traced down along her cheeks, and she felt a sudden light-headedness as it continued on under her jaw, and down along the nape of her neck, then across her shoulder and down.
“L-Lord Carling!” she gulped, as his finger traced the top of her bra.
“Yes, my naughty little prisoner?”
“I-I'm not your... your prisoner,” she gulped.
“No?” He grinned. “Want to be?”
“Pity. We could have some fun.”
His finger slid down the middle of her bra, between her breasts, over the little purple bow, and then traced a zig zag line down her taut lower chest and belly.
“R-release me!” she gulped.
“That's not how an employee speaks to the lord and master, wench,” he said.
His finger circled her belly button, then descended across her abdomen to the top of her panties, and Hannah found herself speechless, a wild, dark storm of confusing thoughts and sensations swirling and churning within her.
“I-I... you... you can't... you mustn't... t-touch me!”
He grinned, and she gasped suddenly as his other hand slid through her hair, then jerked her head back tightly. He grinned, then his lips came down on hers. Hannah's eyes went wide, and she trembled for a long moment, shocked as his lips melded against her own, as his tongue began to slowly trace her lips, then explore just past them.
She moaned a protest as she felt her pulse racing, felt the dark thrum of heat and energy between her legs. A wild, scalding wave of excitement and hunger swept around her, and she felt herself physically tremble against him as his tongue reached hers and began to trace along it.
Then she jerked violently as his finger, the one which had been tracing the waistband of her panties, slipped underneath. It didn't go anywhere much, still gently moving from side to side along her abdomen, but now beneath the waistband. And, as she whimpered helplessly into his mouth, she felt it slide lower still.
His lips were moving moistly against her own, his tongue swirling and turning and twisting within her, slowly, as he pulled her head back even more sharply. She groaned helplessly, head and heart pounding, and then realized her tongue was moving against his. She moaned, falling into the kiss, her world narrowing to the joining of their lips as their tongues began to move together.
Then, another wild shock jolted her as his finger slid deeper, the knuckles passing the waistband of her panties. She felt the pad of his extended finger reach her clit, and her hips jerked and bucked against him reflexively. His finger slid across her clit, down along the neat, narrow line of her sex, and as it pressed in along its length she could feel that she was already wet.
His finger began to rub up and down, pressing down between the lips of her sex, along her pussy, rubbing lightly up and down, across her clit as she fought to breath against the force of his kiss.
He jerked her head to the side, and his lips came off hers, only to descend on the nape of her neck, his teeth biting into her as he sucked as his tongue stroked against her. Then he released her hair, his fingers sliding along her neck, undoing the clasp of her bra. The straps collapsed and she shuddered as her breasts were exposed.
His lips descended, and he sucked lightly on one of her already extremely stiff nipples, then bit at it so she yelped in pain. His hand was fully in the crotch of her panties now, two fingers rubbing against her as he against sucked and kissed at her nipple. Hannah lay her head back, gasping, chest heaving, the world whirling around her as the pressure built up within her skull.
“Oh! Oh God! Oh please! Oh! Uhmmm!” she whimpered, head rolling back.
He chuckled throatily, lips rising from her breast, and his hand came free of her panties. She blinked her eyes, drawing her head forward again as he undid her bra, then pulled it completely free of her.
She started to speak but his lips came down on hers again, then his hand plunged into the front of her panties, rubbing more insistently now. Her hips began to jerk, and her bottom ground against the wall. The wild storm of sensations built to an awful crescendo, and she cried out in pleasure as the orgasm burst over her. Her face was already flushed with heat, else she'd have blushed with shame as he chuckled in amusement. But that was a minor consideration as her body writhed and her hips ground helplessly forward against his fingers. Her nervous system was screaming with the intensity of sensations tearing through her as his fingers stroked skillfully across her clit and along her sex.
She groaned as he drew back, her head falling back against the stone again as she gulped in ragged breaths of air. He smirked and backed away, then turned and pulled aside her clothes, bending to get the key.
He turned back to her, reaching up for her wrists, but then stuck the key into the wrong shackle.
She was about to tell him that it was the other one that was locked when she felt and heard the click of the lock, and a hot rush of wary, anxious excitement swept through her as she realized he'd locked the other one.
He grinned at her and tossed the key behind him.
“Wh-what are... are you … going to do?” she gulped.
“My Lord,” he said, staring down at her.
She flushed again. “I... what are you... are you going t-to do... my lord?”
His grin deepened. “Anything I want,” he purred.
He plunged his hand into her panties again, and then Hannah yelped in shock as he tore them off her. She squealed and closed her legs tight, but he only smirked and forced his hand between her thighs. Again he grasped her hair, jerking her head up and back, his lips crushing hers, and Hannah felt the shock-wave roll through her as his finger pushed up through the rapidly swelling lips of her sex.
She writhed against the shackles, against his hold, yet as his finger pushed deeper she felt the heat deepening and spreading out from her lower belly, felt it rolling up her spine with such power she arched her back involuntarily and cried out into his mouth.
She felt his finger twisting within her, felt it draw back, then push up again, doubled in thickness. Her breaths became ragged as his tongue forced hers into motion, as the wild heat enveloped her mind. The cool, rough stone against her soft bare back and buttocks was a wild contrast to the soft heat of his flesh on hers and the churning emotions and sensations within her.
His lips drew back, but he held her hair tightly back as his tongue traced a meandering line along the nape of her neck.
“Nasty little slave girl,” he purred. “You must be punished for your impertinence, you know.”
His fingers pumped faster, now a third added, and it became almost impossible to breath, never mind think. Her clitoris felt swollen to twice its normal size, and as his thumb stroked back and forth across it Hannah's hips began to grind against them with growing desperation.
He bent his head and sucked heavily on her right nipple, which flared with wildfire heat. Then he closed his lips on it, slowly, tighter and tighter until she gasped and moaned and then cried out in pain. His teeth ground back and forth in opposite directions, then eased off and he licked her tortured nipple before sucking it lightly and rhythmically.
His fingers pushed up deeper, harder, painfully hard! She felt herself forced up against the wall, her buttocks grinding against the rough stone, up, and up and up, every time his fingers were driven up into her burning pussy. She could feel and hear the wetness of herself as he drove his fingers up inside her, and the raw, wild sensations tore across her mind and body.
And then she came. Her head jerked back violently, her back arching, her hips bucking frantically against his plunging fingers as the orgasm ripped through her nervous system. Her muscles spasmed and her eyes rolled back in her head as she jerked spastically, gurgling in dazed wonder as the howling storm of sensations battered at her mind.
She went limp, gasping, chest heaving, eyes slitted, and grunted dazedly as he abruptly turned her around to face the wall. She gasped, cheek pressed against the stone, gulping in air, trying to clear her mind of the continuing echo of that incredible storm of pleasure
Her eyes fluttered in confusion for a moment as she felt his hands jerking her hips back, and groaned, her breasts grinding against the rough stone as she slid down to the point her arms were now taut overhead. She felt his hand jerking her thigh apart, and moaned an uncertain complaint as the shackles dug into her wrists. She had to rise onto the balls of her feet to ease the strain and then...
She felt pressure against the hot, moist mouth of her sex, pressure that did not come from fingers. Her eyes widened, and then her mouth as she felt what had to be his cock pushing into her from behind.
“I-I... I...”
She didn't know what to say, and then she let out a shuddering moan as his cock forced the lips of her sex back and pushed up into her. It was thick – very thick! She whimpered at the tight, aching strain at the mouth of her sex, then groaned in helpless desire as she felt the thick girth of him pushing up through the warm, slick folds of her sheath, up into her belly, up higher, and still higher, until she ached deep inside.
Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, and then he ground himself against her and she felt the long length of his stiff cock moving around, twisting around inside her lower belly. She felt his hot breath against the nape of her neck, and then he drew himself slowly back, then pushed forward again. His right hand slid inward from her thigh, his long finger extended, stroking across her clit as he began to fuck her.
Ohmygod! She stared dazedly at the rough stone, disbelief sweeping through her that this was happening, that she had somehow allowed it, that circumstances had created it. It was simply impossible! She simply didn't do such things!
His cock moved faster, and he bit into the back of her throat, lightly, then shifted around to the side as she whimpered and moaned. She felt his other hand come up to cup and knead her breast, pinching the nipple, then grinding it against the rough stone.
“Slave,” he whispered into her ear. “You're going to be my little slave girl, Quinn. Do you like that thought, little librarian? Have you ever dreamed about being a sex slave?”
He thrust sharply, distracting her from any hope of a reply, and chuckled as he bit lightly into her earlobe, then sucked on it. His hips were working fast, now, and she could feel the growing impact of his hips against her out-thrust buttocks. It was impossible to think, to speak, to do more than absorb the sensations amid the buffeting shock of a situation her mind suddenly found so darkly and intensely erotic and arousing she felt as though her body was simply melting under the raw, carnal heat.
“Ahh!” she cried as he thrust up into her hard and ground himself against her.
He drew back, drew himself out entirely, and rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down against her sopping opening.
“Do you want it, Quinn?” he whispered. “Tell me you want it, little slave girl.”
“I-I... I do!” she gasped.
She yelped as he slapped her bottom sharply.
“Tell me you want it, slut!”
“I do!” she cried, eyes wide.
“Say `I want it', little slave!”
He fingered her clit and she shuddered and rolled her hips back
“Say it, slut!”
“I wa-want it!” she moaned.
“Then say please, rude girl.”
He slapped her bottom again and the stinging shock cut through the muzzled heat of her mind.
“I-I... please!” she gasped.
“Please what?”
“Please... fuck me!” she moaned.
Again she let out a cry as he slapped her bottom.
“You forgot to say my lord again, slave!”
“My lord,” she moaned, rolling her hips back wantonly as he continued to rub his cock along her pussy.
“Please, slave girl,” he said, slapping her bottom again, rubbing his moist, slick cockhead over her clit.
“Please fuck me, my lord!” she cried weakly.
She shuddered as his head spread her lips apart and then pushed up into her again.
“Oh fuck!” she moaned.
He drove himself balls deep in her hot, throbbing belly, then gripped her hips and began to pound himself against her, jerking her hips back to meet his thrusts so that Hannah's body shuddered and shook to the blows of his hips. The world seemed to shake, as though she were in an earthquake, everything jerking up and down. Only it was her, and not the wall, as Carling continued to thrust into her with deep, fast, savage strokes.
They hurt, but the pain was intensely arousing somehow, and she revelled in the hard, violent rutting even as her insides squirmed in a dark maelstrom of sensations.
Then the orgasm flashed into her mind and she cried out again and again as it overcame her. The raw heat released into her mind and body like a fever dream, and she felt herself tumbling, lost amid the churning violence of sensations.
Somewhere amidst it all he must have come, as well, for even as she sank limply against the wall his cock was sliding back out.
“I'll leave you with some time to think about your position, Miss Quinn, and how I should punish you,” she heard through a filter of dazed, languorous, shell-shocked numbness.
Then the door was clanging closed and being locked. She heard, uncaring, the outer door also being locked, and then slowly she groaned and got her rubbery legs under her to pull her weight off her aching wrists. She stood and with a gasp of effort, turned around again, putting her back to the wall instead of her belly and breasts.
The lights were out in the cell again, but he'd left some light on in the outer room so that she could still see. The cell was shadowed but the floor reflected the outer light coming through the bars and she could see her clothes no longer there.
This is... impossible, she thought weakly, staring out through the bars at the empty outer room, feeling the rough stone against her backside and the shackles around her bare wrists.
And yet she was indeed shackled naked in the cell, helpless, having just been... ravished by the lord of the manor.
Her mind squirmed away from such a foolish cliché, yet she could not ignore the eroticism of her situation. It wasn't as though she feared Carling, after all. And her body still thrummed with the aftermath of the intense orgasm he'd given her.
Unbelievable! This couldn't be happening to her!
Yet it was, somehow.


A lot of humor in this story. I loved the way Hannah kept putting herself into compromising situations. 5of5


A good read about a young lady that is turned into a young lady that knows how good it is to have sex. She comes to enjoy all that si done to her


Although five is the official highest rating, this story is a ten. The best by Argus so far, and he is the best writer on this site. Story was funny and has lots and lots of enjoyable, sex. It ended a bit abruptly. A few gang bangs would have enlivened the dungeon.

5/5- Lex



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