Dominated by the Librarian
Male submission: Surrender to Please Her
by Tara Jones
A couple of weeks went by.
Some days I was convinced that the whole incident at the local library that late Thursday evening had been a result of my overactive sexual imagination in combination with too much stress at work.
Other days I just plainly denied that it had ever happen ed .
Because , I mean really.
My mind still had a hard time accepting that my charming seduction attempt had ended with that I lay pinned down on the floor by a short and curvy red-headed librarian , who reminded vaguely of a fierce Marilyn Monroe with slightly violent tendencies and a horrible fashion sense from the middle of the last century. And I most certainly couldn’t believe that after that she had teasingly started touching me , while whispering all kinds of things in my ear , we had ended up having incredibly hot sex together.
Things like that just didn’t happen at your local library, regardless what anyone said. E xcept possibly in some men’s fantasies or certain porn movies with low budget and bad scripts, but that doesn’t count.
Still, I could easily remember her tantalizing scent and the soft feeling of her skin against me as she forcefully pressed herself against me , exited and ready , while she held my wrists in a tight grip behind my back.
I’ll confess that I was rather uncomfortable with admitting to myself just how turned on I had been by her holding me down and how much I had enjoyed the sensation of feeling slightly powerless as she rode me mercilessly, but I had decided not to think about it anymore .
It’s not like I’m not one of those guys who get all excited by the idea of women with whips and dressed in latex. Well, perhaps I found the thought about that a little bit exciting, but what kind of man doesn’t?
However, the bizarre incident at the library must have happened, because I still had the Swedish thriller that I had borrowed in the hazy aftermath of what could easily be described as the best and the most unexpected sex I ever had, including that weird time in the lift at D ebenhams with that tall shop assistant few years ago.
Every now and then I wondered if we got caught on the CCTV cameras and sometimes I worried slightly what would happen if those clips suddenly went viral. Hopefully my face wouldn’t be too recognizable.
T he day after my sinful adventure at the library, I seriously overslept.
I woke up feeling oddly mellow, even though I was ridiculously late to work, and I arrived to the office with a small smile on my face and a general feeling of contentment that was so unusual I was worried that people would think I was stoned.
I completely forgot about the claw and bite marks on my neck that I had earned during the night before, so I had to suffer through a rather horrible work lunch with Christine.
Christine was my ex and she worked as a project leader at another web designer agency and I was meeting her and two other colleagues over sushi to discuss a joint project together.
I had during the last couple of years slowly come to realize that I found less and less inspiration for the latest “new and exciting project” and that my interest in my job was somewhat lukewarm, however that was something that I carefully hid from my boss and colleges, since I liked to keep my employment as a graphic designer.
Nevertheless, t o say that Christine was cold to me when she noticed the long red nail marks along my throat would be to describe the weather at the North Pole as “just a tad bit nippy”.
On the way home I had to buy a couple of stupid turtleneck sweaters to cover the marks and I felt like a bad copy of Steve Jobs for the entire week.
It was absurd , of course. All of it.
But the worst part, really, was that the adorable little red headed librarian refused to leave my thoughts alone.
At night, she visited my dreams and we did all kinds of things together that could only be