Nov 112009

“A good librarian makes use of all of her senses,” Mr. Dillon said.

Claire Currie nodded but did not verbally answer. She was blindfolded and her blouse was unbuttoned. Her skirt was on the floor along with her panties. Because it was a Wednesday, her panties today were dark red. The stockings that only came up to her thighs could do nothing to protect her bare bottom from the cold seat of the chair.

It was just another Wednesday for Claire as an assistant librarian for the Colette-Ashbee Collection. Claire worked for the world’s greatest collection of erotica. She accompanied Mr. Dillon as he gathered books from all walks of life. In between book purchasing, he trained her in the many complex skills of being an erotic librarian. They also fucked a lot.

She was being tested. Claire had a naughty thought and hoped Mr. Dillon did not see her smirk. In erotic stories, this would be the part where the author would talk about the intricate knots or invincible locks that were pinning her hands and ankles to the arms and legs of the chair. There were no physical bonds here. Mr. Dillon felt Claire’s discipline should be the only restraints she needed. She still wasn’t sure if this was a sign of arrogance concerning his dominance, or an absolute faith in her ability to submit.

A harsh pinch to her breast brought her out of her thoughts. Mr. Dillon’s fingers had an inch of her large breast and he was twisting it viciously. She knew from experience that purple bruises will decorate her dark skin in the morning.

“Pay attention Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said. He released her breast. “You have a passable mastery of determining whether a book is a first edition or a later edition fraudulently altered. You have shown some progress in recognizing the major printing houses that publish erotica as well as a little improvement in recalling the history of written erotica.”

Claire almost blushed. From Mr. Dillon, this was the equivalent of gushing praise.

“But all of these things rely on sight,” Mr. Dillon said. “Now is the time to test your cognitive ability using your other senses.”

Claire nodded. “Just in case I ever have to sort through books during a blackout?”

This time he pinched her thigh. Cruel fingers bit into her skin like a vice. The twisting hurt, but that wasn’t the bad part. The bad part was that his fingers were so close to her sex. It was painful but it was also so damn teasing.

“Your attempts at humor are as weak as your ability to analyze Miller,” Mr. Dillon said. “Please refrain from further attempt today. Are you ready to be tested?”

“Yes, Mr. Dillon,” Claire said.

The fingers released her thigh. “Excellent,” he said. “Let us begin.”

Claire braced herself. The sensation of being pinched lingered on her thigh. She was nervous but she refused to move her hands or feet. A good librarian behaves,

A smell assaulted her nose. It was musty, old and a little damp.

“Does this book have mold, or not?” Mr. Dillon asked.

The smell moved away. “Let me smell it again, please,” she requested.

“No,” Mr. Dillon said.

Claire concentrated. “I believe it was moldy,” she said.

“Believe, or know, Ms. Currie?” Mr. Dillon said.

“I know,” Claire said.

“Hmm,” Mr. Dillon said.

Claire felt something mark her left breast. It was one stroke and it felt like a marker. She knew better than to ask what it was.

He asked her nine more times to identify mold by smell alone. When she gave her answer, he would mark either her right breast or her left one. After ten books, she had six on her left and four on her right.

“Terrible,” Mr. Dillon said. “You only got six of them right.”

Claire sighed with relief. At least she had more right than wrong.

“Open your thighs, Ms. Currie” Mr. Dillon commanded.

Claire spread her legs as wide as possible. She knew what he wanted to get to. Her pelvis shifted to give him as much access as possible to her cunt.

Hands gripped her thighs and Claire gasped as she felt Mr. Dillon’s mouth. His lips pushed through her thick pubic hair and licked at her sex. She shivered as he found her clitoris and she moaned as his tongue lapped away at her.

Claire lost herself. She ground against her boss’s face. Her hands stayed on the arms of the chair, and her feet stayed planted on the floor, but the rest of her body was in motion. Mr. Dillon was eating her and Claire was going to enjoy that rare privilege as much as possible.

A bell chimed. Mr. Dillon stopped suddenly. Claire whimpered as she felt him move away. She could hear him wiping his face of her desire. Her own seat was soaked.

“You got four wrong,” Mr. Dillon said.

The first slap landed on her right breast. She cried out at the sudden pain but the second slap was to her face. With her cheek still tingling, the third slap struck her open thigh, followed by a slap to her left breast.

Claire squirmed in her chair. The slaps struck her randomly bt she knew he had a system. A slapped breast was to distract her from a nasty slap to her thigh. A slap to face was to knock the scream out of her mouth that was rising from the slap to her nipple. Every instinct told her to cover herself but Claire did nothing. She gripped the arms of the chair as her punishment continued.

Mr. Dillon slapped her as hard as he had previously eaten her. It was all the same to him. Punishments and rewards were equally important. He didn’t flinch from inflicting either. It made for an amazing lover but also a relentless punisher.

The bell chimed. It took Claire a moment to realize the slaps had stopped. Her breasts stung. Her thighs ached. Her face burned. Worse of all, her sex was awfully aroused. She wanted to be filled. She wanted to be taken.

“Oh my,” she said. “Is the test over?” she asked.

Mr. Dillon snorted. “That was just the first of four.”

She heard a book being opened. It was a quick sound, as if Mr. Dillon had held one cover and let the book fall open.

“From the sound alone, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said. “Tell me if the spine on this book is broken.”

Claire swallowed. What does a broken spine sound like? She didn’t care to be honest. She wanted to be pulled out of the chair and fucked. She wanted the sting of her tits to go away. She wanted sex and all Mr. Dillon cared about were impossible skills she may never learn.

“It was broken,” Claire answered. Hell if she knew, but she had to answer.

Mr. Dillon made a mark on her right thigh. Did that mean she was wrong? Claire wasn’t sure. It would be nine more attempts before she found out.

Understanding blossomed within Claire. She knew one thing. By the time today’s ordeal was over, she was going to know what a damn broken spine did sound like. The slaps and licks will see to it.

It was an informative day.

  2 Responses to “Fiction Hard Lessons”

  1. I ALWAYS love a good Mr. Dillon & Claire story. My favorite parts this time were: your description of her daily underwear (do you have a list of what each day is? I remember one of them is dark green), and the tension created by the marks that count the right & wrong answers.

    p.s. I loved your Tweet about Lou Dobbs.

  2. Bridget- I made a list at one point and realized that Mr. Dillon would rotate through colors depending on the season.

    Lou Dobbs deserves all the mocking scorn we can muster.

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