The Bookstore, Ch. 1 free porn video

She thought, for perhaps the tenth time since getting into the car, Just play it cool, but the more she admonished herself to act natural, the more self-conscious she got. When she parked her car at the bookstore and got out, she looked like any other undergrad with her backpack, jeans, and flip flops, bent on a night of study at the Barnes & Noble. No one had any reason to look at her—but she couldn't help feeling that everyone in the parking lot, and then in the store, could tell that her pussy was already warming and twitching in anticipation.

She could feel it throbbing as she casually strolled down one of the aisles. Without meaning to, she saw her own plump pussy lips in her mind's eye, delicately enclosed in her most adorable pair of panties, the pink lacy pair with the matching bra that she'd put on earlier in the evening—though she wasn't quite sure why she had.

No one was going to see her lingerie. Marie didn't have a boyfriend, wasn't even dating anyone. In fact, she'd been spending more time with her professors lately than the students her own age. She was doing brilliantly in school—had turned in a paper just last week that her English Lit professor wanted her to try to publish. It was a particularly inspired explication that pointed out the rape imagery in the poetry of John Donne. Yes, that was her focus right now—school, and her backpack loaded with assignments.

There was just one thing to do first. Marie lingered in the literature section, letting her fingers skim along the rows of titles, pausing every now and then to take out a book and examine it, as if browsing. Except her heartbeat kept getting louder and louder as she progressed through the rows of alphabetized authors' names... Porter... Pyle ... Ratliffe ... There. Ann Rice—The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty. With a quick look around, making sure she was unobserved, Marie soundlessly slid the slim book off the shelf with hands that had gone clammy. She clutched it against her chest, her arm effectively obscuring the title and plot synopsis on the back cover.

Marie made her way to a cluster of armchairs grouped invitingly around a little coffee table. There was an elderly woman already there, and Marie experienced an agonizing moment of indecision about whether to make eye contact with her. The old lady looked up and nodded at her, and Marie managed a weak smile as she slipped off her backpack and slid into the chair opposite. She carefully spread open her book on her knees, leaned forward, and began to read.

Despite her precautions, Marie hadn't been entirely unnoticed by the staff and customers at the bookstore. Despite her unremarkable clothes, her blonde hair pulled back into two French braids, her petite, slender figure, and her pretty green eyes behind her glasses were enough to catch the attention of at least a few of the males present. Then there was the way her expression changed as she read. While Marie was reading about the Prince making Beauty walk naked alongside his horse, or tying her naked outside a tavern for the villagers to fondle and gawk at while he slaked his thirst inside, her eyes would grow rounder and rounder, and her skin would flush perceptibly. She appeared utterly absorbed in her dirty story, and to at least one interested observer, she seemed to be squirming a bit in her chair.

He knew exactly which book she was reading—and even had a fair idea of where she was in the story—because this wasn't the first time he had observed her reading it.

And he was quite familiar with the book himself.

He wondered if she had any idea how obvious she was. The rhythmic way her legs moved slightly apart and then together, slowly or quickly depending on what she read, her occasionally ragged breathing and the way she unconsciously rubbed her palms against her thighs made her arousal evident to anyone who was paying attention.

He had been paying attention. Oh, yes. And he thought this might be the night he'd allow her to know it.

Marie finally tore herself away from the book, telling herself sternly it was time to get to work studying. But she was feeling pretty desperate. Her pussy was so hungry it was all she could do not to put her hand there and press for even just a moment to get some relief—and she knew she'd already been moving her hips while she read, wriggling her ass like some whore. Maybe she could step into the bathroom for just a minute... Get a grip, she thought.

She was ashamed at herself for feeling so out of control. Normally she managed everything and was so responsible, completing her assignments early, always making it to class on time—hell, she even ate a balanced diet. What was it about this book—this fantasy, the bound, naked, and helpless princess, that so obsessed her? Why didn't she get this excited when boys her own age kissed her or fondled her, in their fumbling way, at parties or during the few dates she'd been on?

Pressing her hands against her burning cheeks for a moment, Marie prepared herself for the next challenge—putting the cursed book back where it went with no one the wiser. The old lady had left, but there was a middle-aged woman sitting next to her now, and a mother arguing with her teenaged daughter in an aisle nearby. One night, when there was a bigger crowd around her in this same store, she'd made a show of getting something out of her backpack and then discreetly shoved the book into the chair cushions out of sight rather than risk putting it back on the shelf. She'd agonized for days about what the store employee who'd found it must have thought, prayed whoever it was hadn't noticed her sitting there earlier. But tonight the store seemed empty enough for her to risk it.

Taking care to hold the book so as to conceal its cover, Marie stood, shrugged her backpack on, and walked carefully in the direction of the Fiction section. With her arms crossed across her chest, she had to resist the urge to squeeze her own breasts—and was disgusted with herself for having the impulse in the first place. Truly, the sooner she got the book back in place and had some dry school text in front of her—preferably seated on a cold, hard chair—the better off she'd be. But she couldn't rush this. She'd die of shame if anyone found out what she'd been reading so raptly.

Marie was relieved to see that the Ann Rice row was empty. Without relaxing her guard, she made straight for the telltale gap where she'd removed the Beauty story from the tightly packed shelves. No one was in sight—this was not the moment to take her time pretending to browse. Gingerly, without making a sound, she reached up and slid the book back into place—and suddenly knew there was someone right behind her.

Her breath catching in her throat, Marie spun around in panic, only to find herself staring at a very near, very male chest.

Above that chest was a dark, close-trimmed beard, shot through with gray, within which was a mouth with a slight, ironic smile.

But it was the eyes that gripped her and held her there, speechless. Not that there was anything particularly special about his eyes, in and of themselves; they were blue-gray and bright with intelligence beneath heavy eyebrows and a broad forehead. Their expression was friendly, with a hint of amusement.

But what was making it difficult for Marie to breathe was the overwhelming sense she had, from the way he was looking at her, that this man knew her—knew her in a way nobody else did; knew her better than she knew herself.

She knew who he was, though not by name. This was his store and he was usually there. He had often been at the register when she had bought books so there had been the kind of brief exchanges that accompanied such transactions. But she had never paid much attention to how he looked, other than finding him vaguely attractive in an older-guy kind of way, and wouldn't have thought he had ever taken particular notice of her either.

Until now.

His voice, when he spoke, was casual—but somehow intimate, as if the two of them had had many conversations before.

"I see you're an Ann Rice fan," he said, glancing briefly at the shelf behind her.

Marie's sense of panic ratcheted up a notch. Had she put the book all the way back onto the shelf? Had he seen?

"...And not an ordinary Ann Rice fan, either," he continued, reaching over her head and plucking The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty from its place. "A...connoisseur, shall we say."

And with that he flipped open the book, leaned towards Marie and to her astonishment read her a paragraph from the very page she had been reading. A paragraph that had made her flush when she had read it to herself, but now, hearing it read out loud to her by a man she hardly knew, struck her absolutely white.

Marie wanted to run. Brush past this man who knew too much about her, hurry out of the store and never return.

But then he closed the book and returned it to its place behind her. And when he lowered his hand he rested it lightly on her shoulder then placed his other hand on her other shoulder.

Holding her in his gaze, he used his thumbs to slide the straps of her backpack off her shoulders. The sudden noise as it hit the floor made her jump, but he steadied her with his hands.

He leaned in close and said, "Stay here."

Then he turned away from her, walked to the center of the store and announced, "Closing time, ladies and gentlemen. Closing time."

Marie stood rooted to the spot, numb with shock. Good Lord, the worst possible thing had just happened. Not only had she been caught reading porn, but she'd been caught by him, the store owner, this—this magnetic man who was not going to let this go. She felt shaken to the core, recalling his voice in her ear, reading aloud the words, the images, that made her feel such powerful arousal. Oh, God, how did he know?

Suddenly Marie realized that she was standing there with her mouth hanging open. She became aware that the store's customers were trickling out, some grumbling, but no one attempting to question the man's announcement. And they were leaving her... alone with him. How much time had she wasted standing there like an idiot? He was close, but his back was to her. She should be long gone—surely there was a back door, or an emergency exit, or something.

Feeling strangely weak, Marie forced herself to move and started edging towards the opposite end of the aisle, away from him. That last command of his—stay here—kept echoing in her head, and she thought she could still feel his hands on her shoulders, holding her still. It had been a gentle touch, but, combined with the heat of his intense gaze, a compelling one. She had almost reached the end of the row, and was just about to duck around the corner and make a run for it, when he turned around and looked at her.

Marie felt pinned. And when he started striding purposefully towards her, she couldn't help letting out a little squeak of terror. But he just reached down and grabbed her backpack off the floor where she had left it. Giving her that same twisted smile, he walked off with it, out of her sight.

Oh, shit. Now what? How could she have forgotten to pick up her bag? It had everything in it—her wallet, her keys, not to mention her expensive textbooks. She couldn't just leave it here, even if she found another way out of this damn store. Get a grip, Marie, she said to herself. She was acting like a frightened child. So he embarrassed you—so what? She was just going to march right up to him and demand her stuff back. Just as soon as she could breathe again. She could hear the last couple of customers going out the doors. And then the lights went off.

Or most of them, at least. The soft, spot lighting in the café area and the children's section stayed on, plus a few scattered fluorescent lights, left on for security, she imagined. For a brief, crazy moment, Marie wondered if he'd just left her in the store alone—locked the door behind him and gone. But no, he'd told her to stay put, implying that they had unfinished business. Well, she wasn't going to stay here, cowering in this dark aisle, for one second longer. She was taking control of this situation right now. Squaring her shoulders, she took three determined steps out into the store—and was promptly caught by the arm.

Jesus, how did he just come out of nowhere like that? Marie thought wildly as the store owner, who now seemed bigger and even more enigmatic in the dim light, hustled her back to where she had been standing. To where she had been told to wait.

He positioned her exactly as she had been. Dropped the backpack at her feet. Then simply stood and held her in his gaze for a long moment before reaching up and pulling Beauty from its shelf again...and handing it to her.

"Your turn," was all he said.

For a moment, Marie just stood there, clutching the book and staring at it as if she didn't know what it was. Then she looked up at him, her mouth open in surprise, her eyes wide. "You... you want me to read it?" Her voice, barely audible before, now dropped to a whisper. "Out loud?"

He smiled by way of reply. He thought it was telling that the first words out of her mouth were not a protest. She was looking down and fidgeting, and her face was red, but she wasn't running away, and he could sense the simmering arousal in the sound of her quick breathing and the tension in her body.

Marie was thinking fast. Maybe she could just get it over with, and then he'd let her go. If he was just trying to humiliate her, maybe she could thwart him by finding some perfectly innocuous passage to read out loud—but who was she trying to kid? There was no innocuous passage in the whole stupid book. That's why she had to be so careful about reading it, and why she kept coming back to it, truth be told.

She'd been staring at her feet, but now Marie risked a quick look at the man's face, to see if he'd changed his mind. He was still looking at her, hemming her in, waiting patiently, as if he knew she'd eventually give in and do just what he asked. For the second time, Marie felt a flare of indignation, and she latched onto it eagerly. She'd show him she wasn't intimidated. He'd probably lose interest if she acted like she wasn't embarrassed. With one defiant glance up at her tormentor, Marie opened the book at random and started to read.

To her horror, she'd selected the chapter where the Prince makes Beauty crawl on the floor at the inn and kneel at his feet while he eats. So much for not being embarrassed—although her voice started out strong, she hadn't gotten through a paragraph before her face flamed and her throat dried up. Good Lord, this was not the kind of stuff she would have shared with anyone, let alone a strange man! For them to be reading it together like this was obscene! And yet the images were working on her, the way they always did, and she saw herself again as Beauty, cringing and ashamed as she crawled naked in front of the villagers and the soldiers. As always, her skin seemed to tingle as if she were the one so mercilessly exposed, her nipples hardening, heat rushing to pool between her legs. Marie knew a terrible desire to take one step closer to the man, just to bring her itching, tingling breasts into contact with his hard chest.

She tried to continue reading but her voice had now completely vanished and all that came out when she opened her mouth was a strangled, incoherent whisper. She was sure he knew exactly why, too. But when she dared to glance up at him his expression was sympathetic.

"Your throat is dry. Wait a moment." He left her and Marie watched as he disappeared behind a door marked "Employees Only." Again she considered the possibility of escape...but now the thought seemed irrelevant. She felt as though her feet were rooted to the spot and that she wouldn't be able to move from it.

Unless he said she could.

So Marie simply waited--not reading the book, not thinking about anything—just staring at the door and waiting for him to return.

And in a moment he did, carrying a paper cup of water. But instead of simply handing it to her he held it up to her lips, his eyes on hers. Marie eagerly opened her mouth to drink but something about the way he was making her drink from his hand and the way he was holding her in his gaze seemed to arouse her even further. She fought to control her breathing as she drank, to not let him see the effect he was having on her.

But she was sure he knew.

When he took the now empty cup away from her lips he simply asked, "Better?" And when she nodded he nodded slowly in reply, as if agreeing with her, and said, "Continue."

Marie hesitated. She knew that, just on the next page, the princess was going to be spanked. She couldn't possibly read that part out loud! Please, let him stop me before then, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she read a little farther, in a halting, whispery voice, then trailed off before the prince gave the fatal order for Beauty's punishment. She closed the book defiantly, with a panicky little snap, but kept her gaze on the floor, her face red.

"What happens next?"

Marie felt her face get even redder as he spoke in that quiet, commanding voice. Damn the man—he had no mercy! But she realized vaguely that her embarrassment was now vying with some other feeling, some other impulse, which had everything to do with the man in front of her and the fact that she'd been waiting for years for someone to come along and give her orders, just as he was doing. And yes, she was still a little afraid of him, but she was also experiencing the most delicious anticipation, could hardly wait to know what he'd make her do next. So she took a deep breath and started to stammer, "She—well, she, um—"

"Look at me."

Marie was startled into doing just that, and when she encountered the heat in his gaze, her breath failed her again. Somehow, she managed to squeak, a bit desperately, "She gets spanked, Sir!" And then she clapped a hand over her mouth in astonishment, her face so dismayed it was comical. She couldn't believe she'd just called him that! But she realized that she was hornier now than she'd ever been in her life.

Completely flustered now, her face burning, Marie dropped her hand to grip the book again and watched to see if he would smile at her slip of the tongue.

Instead, he nodded again, gravely--the nod acknowledging not only the correctness of her statement but of the way she had addressed him. And that gaze...damn him, he knew exactly what she was feeling, she was sure of it; knew the effect he was having on her, knew she was just waiting for him to...

"That's right," he said, interrupting her thoughts with his matter-of-fact voice, "She gets spanked."

Marie knew he was no longer talking about the princess even before he lifted Beauty from her now trembling hands.

"Pull down your pants," he said, his voice soft but commanding.

Her instinct was to obey him, and Marie's hands went almost immediately to the button on her jeans. But then she froze, as it suddenly occurred to her that they were in public. The store was empty of people, but anyone walking past the giant windows facing the parking lot could see into the store, might even notice the man's head where it showed above the bookshelves.

He saw her eyes flick nervously towards the windows at the front of the store and responded with another brief, sympathetic smile. "Let's go somewhere more private," he said, and caught her arm again, leading her, unresisting, towards that same door he'd gone through earlier.

Marie's relief that the man had understood her fear only lasted a moment, before she was overcome with confusion. Oh, God, could she really about to willingly submit to a spanking from this total stranger? Was she really on the verge of pulling down her pants for him? It was not as if she was with a boy her own age, both of them disrobing while they made out in her dorm room. This was different—he was controlling the situation, controlling her, pushing and prodding just the right way to make her weak with desire. What would he do next? She couldn't help but wonder. Surely he'd make her bend over...the thought made her so hot she let out a little moan.

She tried to muffle it, unsuccessfully, and was mortified when her tormentor stopped in mid-step and turned to face her. The knowing look in his eyes made her want to melt into the ground.

He released her arm, stood close to her and said, "I see you're in a hurry." His voice was as calm as if he was discussing the weather. "Pull down your pants. Now."

They were still out in the store, at the very back, just outside the "Employees Only" door. But Marie knew that he was right: that she was going to do what he told her to do; that she was so aroused now that she would do it even if they were standing in the store window.

She looked down and watched, hypnotized, while her hands unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans...then tugged them past her hips. Then, unable to help herself, she raised her eyes to his, desperate to see him watching her as she slowly lowered her pants to her thighs...then her knees...and finally to her ankles, the very act of bending, then crouching in order to do so while holding his gaze sending a shudder of pleasure through her as if he were the one bending her over.

Which he was, Marie realized.

She stood up as slowly as she had bent, her arms hanging by her sides, her gaze never leaving his for an instant. When she was fully upright, however, she watched his gaze travel downward to take in the lacy pink panties she was now displaying to him—and for the first time that day she was very glad she had worn them.

His reaction was a laconic, but appreciative, "Mmmm."

Then he simply turned and disappeared through the door, leaving it open and calling "Back here," over his shoulder as he went.

Marie was stunned for a moment. Was he expecting her to-- Yes, obviously he was. Marie stood, clenching and unclenching her fists. Then, with her pants still around her ankles she shuffled through the door after him, cursing him—first for humiliating her this way, and then for knowing it was exactly what she wanted.

He didn't even have the decency to look away while she awkwardly made her way into the room. No, he had turned to face her and stood there staring unapologetically. He seemed amused. He indicated with a gesture that she should continue to come forward, and as she did, Marie furtively looked around. They were in the employees' break room. There were a couple of vending machines, a refrigerator, a sink, and two long folding tables, pushed together end to end. A few boxes of new merchandise and promotional materials for the store were stacked around.

Marie stopped when she was still a few feet away from him and looked up uncertainly. He was staring at the wispy pink triangle that covered her mound. She quelled an obscene urge to push her hips forward, give him a better view. He met her eyes, then said, "Turn around," making a pirouetting motion with his finger.

When she hesitated a bit too long, reluctant to resume her awkward shuffle, he suddenly snapped, "Now!"

Marie jumped and rushed to spin around, but when her back was to him he said, "Stop." She obediently froze. Her heart pounded. She could feel him staring at her ass. Her skin tingled, and again she had to resist the impulse to push it towards him. She knew he'd be able to see how damp her panties had gotten if she did that, and her embarrassment made her stay still.

"Turn," he said again, and Marie started to complete her circle, but he stopped her again before she was through, and she found herself facing the table. She gave a startled gasp as she felt his hand on her back, warm even through her clothes, and she let him guide her a few steps closer to the table.

"Put your hands on the table."

Marie did, bending forward at the waist.

"Now, put your nose to the table," came his voice, and God help her, she did that too, aware that her ass was now sticking obscenely up into the air. She was barely aware that she moaned again, and that she was breathing loudly out of her mouth. She felt his breath brush her ear as he said softly, "Good girl," and a surge of intense pleasure went through her at the praise.

She heard his footsteps retreating...then the loud click of the door as it latched closed. Marie suddenly wished they hadn't come into this room. The door closing seemed to say to her, No turning back now. She started to shake.

He was coming back towards her. Marie heard his footsteps approaching and gritted her teeth against what she was sure would be an immediate, open-handed slap to her behind.

The footsteps stopped just behind her.

There was silence.

Marie imagined him studying her behind as if deciding on the most sensitive place to land his first below. Slowly raising his hand to shoulder height...then back, ready to strike. She felt the muscles of her behind tensing in anticipation and at the same time was shocked to feel tears well up and begin to run down her cheeks and drip from her quivering chin.

The silence continued. And continued.

Oh Christ, why didn't he begin? The waiting was killing her! What the hell was he waiting for?

Her entire body was shaking now. She couldn't stand the torture another second. She lifted her head and prepared to push herself upright...

...Only to be shoved back into position, hard enough to bang her nose on the table, by his hand on the back of her head. She cried out with the pain of it and struggled briefly to free herself from his hand, but to no avail. He simply continued to hold her in place until she subsided. Only then was his hand removed.

The silence continued as she calmed herself and allowed her anger—some of it, anyway—to drain.

Only when Marie was completely settled into her position again did he finally speak.

He said only one word: "Ask."

Marie's whole body stiffened. Ask to be spanked by him? He had to be kidding. She couldn't possibly—she opened her mouth to protest, got as far as "But—" before she caught herself. Of course. It fit the pattern. That bastard wasn't going to let her pretend, even for a second, that she didn't want this, that she was an innocent victim. If she wanted him to spank her, and oh, God, she did, then she was going to have to beg for it.

With a valiant effort, Marie choked out, "Please...Sir, will you..." Her voice came out a trembling whisper, and it didn't help that she was talking into the table, so it wasn't surprising when he said, "What?"

She turned her head to one side and tried again. "Please, Sir—"

"I can't hear you."

In that moment, Marie hated him. She felt her hands fisting in frustration and suddenly growled, in a much louder voice, "I want you to spank me!"

She couldn't see his face, but could picture him raising his eyebrows at her outburst, smiling in that supercilious way. She blushed. Before he could admonish her, she quickly added, "Please," in a softer tone. After another pause, she gritted out, "Sir."

He must have leaned down from her blind side because suddenly his lips were almost touching her ear as he said, softly, "I know."

It was such a stupid, obvious thing to say. Of course, he knew that was what she wanted—why else would she be in such a ridiculous, humiliating position? Hadn't he just forced her to ask for it?

But something about the way he'd said it –intimately, caressingly, so close to her—implied a depth of knowledge far beyond those two simple words. Knowledge of her, Marie, and her most secret, shameful desires; needs she'd never dared to admit even to herself.

He knew. Oh God yes, he knew—and that simple fact sent Marie right to the edge of orgasm; would have sent her right over the edge if she hadn't clamped down on herself, biting her lip, to prevent it.

She fought it down... and then wondered why she had done so.

His hands were gently lifting her head, returning it to its nose-down position.

Because he didn't tell me I could, she suddenly realized—and had to fight off yet another orgasm at this sudden knowledge of his power over her.

Power she had surrendered to him.

Gladly.

Oh God, her panties were sopping wet. She felt his hands releasing her head and wanted them back. She wanted...she wanted...Oh Christ...

She began to beg, realizing dimly that she'd lost the last shred of her self-control. She was babbling, nearly incoherently, "Oh, God, please do something...please help me...I need—I need..."

He silenced her with a hard swat to her upraised ass. "Be quiet," he snapped. Marie, still trying to catch her breath after the shock of that first blow, was incapable of speech, but she felt a little shiver of pleasure at his firm tone.

And then, all at once, it had begun. Whack! Whack! Marie started to weep again almost immediately, although she tried to stifle her cries. Her arousal momentarily lessened with the pain of the spanking. In all the years she'd dreamed of this very thing happening to her, she'd never thought it would hurt this much. He certainly wasn't going easy on her.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

When Marie started to wiggle desperately, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and squirming under his hand, the man paused. He ran his hand over her reddened cheeks, slipped one finger under the edge of her panties and followed the line of the fabric down...down...

Marie held her breath. Please, please, let him touch me... All her desire came flooding back, stronger than before. She closed her eyes. She moaned out loud.

Suddenly he grabbed her braids, pulled her head up, and slid the book under her nose. In dismay, Marie saw that it was open to the same page she'd been reading out loud in the store. She'd forgotten he had it.

"Now, read."

What?

Oh God, she had been so close, so close...and now he wanted her to read again? Jesus H. Fuck, she was so horny she couldn't focus her eyes, let alone read.

There was no way, and she started to turn her head to tell him so...just as he grabbed hold of her panties and jerked her up until her feet left the floor, the crotch digging painfully between her legs. Then with his free hand he landed another vicious slap on the now exposed cheeks of her behind and roared, "I...said...READ!"

The flare of anger Marie felt this time was brief and promptly faded. Her predominant impulse was to obey him as quickly as she could. "Okay, okay!" she gasped out, relieved when he lowered her feet back to the floor. He didn't let go of her panties, though, and the thin fabric felt delicious pressing against her pussy, and, ever so slightly, against her hungry clit. She wanted badly to rock against it... Focus, she told herself, and determinedly turned her eyes to the open book.

The problem was, even if she were alone in her own room, Marie would have trouble reading this particular section out loud. It included Beauty's second spanking, ordered by the Prince and administered by the innkeeper's daughter—with a paddle. In the scene, the Prince's soldiers in the room watched with interest, while the curious villagers, pressed up against the windows outside the inn, had a perfect view of the mortified Beauty's crotch as she lay across the other girl's lap. The cool way the Prince handed her over to another, the use of the paddle, the crowd—why did these details make it so much worse? Marie licked her lips nervously and took a deep breath.

Whack!

She yelped, but got the message. She had hesitated too long. Hurriedly, Marie read out the first sentence. She'd always been good at reading aloud, but now her voice came out shaky and quiet. When she came to the word "paddle," it dropped to a whisper and she stuttered.

Whack!

So this is how it's going to be, Marie thought grimly. It made sense. If she were "in trouble" for reading BDSM erotica in public, spanking her while she read it out loud was an appropriate punishment.

But the punisher was not going to play fair, she soon discovered. As she recovered herself and tried to go on reading, his free hand started to explore again, stroking the silky skin of her inner thighs, brushing ever so lightly over the tight bulge of her pussy lips through the stretched fabric of her panties. When he did that, she completely lost her focus. She stopped in mid-sentence, gasping, "Oh! Yes..."

Whack!

And so it went, for several paragraphs. Whenever she managed to focus on the page, he'd start touching her, and when she got distracted, or made the slightest error in her diction, he'd spank her hard until she was back on track.

After a while, it no longer seemed to matter whether he was spanking her or stroking her, whether she was reading correctly or stumbling over every other word, whether she was Marie or Beauty. She had entered a beautiful, hazy dimension where every sensation was an erotic one, where she was always just seconds away from reaching an orgasm of life-altering intensity--if she could just...surrender...a little more deeply.

So she read and she was stroked and she stumbled and she was spanked and she knew that it would go on like that forever, and it made her very happy.

But eventually, with no idea of how it had happened or how long it had taken her, Marie reached the end of the chapter. She hesitated for a moment and was about to go on when the book was whisked away from beneath her face. Then his hands were on her shoulders and she was flipped over onto her back as easily as if she were a feather pillow.

Her legs would no longer support her and slid backwards beneath the table. Marie slithered downward and would have landed jarringly on her knees if he had not continued to hold her and let her down gently.

But the sudden change in position had shaken her awake. She opened her eyes, which had been half-closed, the better to enjoy her erotic dream-world...

...And found herself facing, at a distance of a few inches, the front of his pants.

She stared, transfixed, at the distinct bulge there. Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut and she licked her lips nervously. She didn't see the grimace, as if in pain, on the man's face when she did that. She reached out one hand, but just as she was about to touch him she suddenly came back to herself, yanked her hand back, and peeked nervously up at him. It occurred to her that she should have his permission before she grabbed his cock.

He smiled to reassure her, then his face was serious again as he said, "Take off your shirt."

She did, showing him the pretty, pink push-up bra that matched her panties. She couldn't resist watching for his reaction, and was gratified to see his eyes heat in appreciation. She felt suddenly powerful, on top of the world, even though she was on her knees and her pants were still bunched around her ankles. She suddenly wished he had tied her hands. She put them behind her back. She smiled up at him, and he nodded solemnly. She leaned forward and put her lips to the bulge in his pants.

They both moaned, and Marie felt her sense of power ratchet up another notch. She was submitting to his will--and loving every second of it--but right now she was in charge. She kissed him again, a little harder, right at the very top of the bulge and began working her way down, a kiss at a time, adding a little more pressure and lingering a little longer with each one. When she reached the bottom she opened her mouth and tried to reach his balls with her tongue through the thick fabric of his pants, her open mouth pressed against the crotch, her breath gasping through her nose.

"Ahhh...Christ!" she heard him moan. But even as she was savoring the effect she was having on him she felt her head being seized in his hands. And before she knew what was happening he had shoved her face against the front of his pants and was rubbing it back and forth and up and down, grunting like an animal as he crudely rutted against her.

Marie was shocked for a brief moment. Then she had an idea, and to her own amazement she managed to catch the tab of his zipper in her teeth as her mouth passed over his fly. When he pushed her head back down, the loud unzipping sound made him freeze. He looked at her and she released the zipper and gave him an impish grin.

He looked so enthralled that Marie almost giggled. She leaned forward again and carefully drew his zipper the rest of the way down, using only her teeth. She pressed her face into the gap and reached out with her tongue again, his thin cotton boxers the only barrier now between her mouth and his cock. She would have worked the button on his pants undone, too, but he made a sound of impatience and did it for her, pushing his boxers down at the same time and stepping out of his clothes.

Marie gulped. Now that she was faced with his cock, it looked huge. Huge and... delicious. She leaned toward it, as if mesmerized, and took him in her mouth. As if from far away, a little voice in her head was trying to tell her that she was crazy, that this was a total stranger, that they were in the back room of a bookstore—but she resolutely pushed those thoughts away. It felt so good to taste him, to please him, and she loved having his cock in her mouth. What would he do next, she wondered vaguely. Would he hold her down and fuck her hard, the way she was dying for him to? The thought made her pussy throb. She felt the wet spot in her panties growing and growing, and she went a little wild, sucking and licking him frantically, trying to swallow the whole length of him.

With a growl, he grabbed her arms and yanked her up and off her feet. He sat her down, none too gently, on top of the table, so that her ass rested at the very edge. He pushed against her shoulders and she obediently lay back. He was in control again, she thought, and felt exhilarated. Before she could bring her legs up to keep her balance, he was grabbing the waistband of her panties and yanking them off of her, finally divesting her of her pants at the same time, her flip flops having fallen off long before.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, a bit hoarsely.

Marie closed her eyes, shuddering with lust. She bent her knees and brought her heels up to rest on the table on either side of her ass, aware that her pussy lips stretched apart a little with the extreme position, aware that he could see everything. Yes...yes... her hips started to pump uncontrollably, and Marie knew that she was going to come. Oh, God, she was so close...

A sharp pain brought Marie back to earth. Her eyes flew open. He had reached into her bra and was pinching one of her nipples hard, looking into her eyes. His face was so close she gasped in surprise.

"You...do not come, unless I say you can," he growled.

He seized her bra in both hands and tore it apart, then yanked it from beneath her and threw it on the floor, leaving her completely naked. He grabbed her braids again with one hand and began slapping her breasts with the other, just hard enough to make them tingle and burn.

"You...belong...to me—is that understood?" he went on. "Your tits." He slapped them again. "Your mouth." He shoved three fingers so deeply into her mouth that she began to choke, and then just as quickly removed them. "Your ass." He inserted his middle finger up her passage to the knuckle of his hand, making her scream with the shock of it. "And your pussy," he concluded, using his thumb to press down on her clitoris.

Marie cried out and writhed and groaned and whimpered nonsense as he went on tormenting her ruthlessly...wonderfully.

"You...belong...to me! You...are my property!" He jerked her braids upward until her face was literally touching his, and his eyes burned into hers. "Say it," he told her. And when she didn't immediately respond he jerked her head back and forth by her braids. "Say it!"

Marie was a little frightened by his intensity, but the thing was, she agreed with him. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to be his, to have him continue to torture her so deliciously, to have him put his cock in her. She'd do almost anything if only he'd fuck her. "Yes!" she cried, her voice trembling with passion and a little bit of fear. "Yes, I'm...yours. I—I—" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I belong to you." She closed her eyes, feeling herself blush once again, wondering if he saw her pussy spasm as she said the words.

He let go of her hair, and lowered her head back to rest on the table. But he stayed leaning over her for a moment longer, standing between her spread legs, his face close to hers, and she opened her eyes and looked at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "You...your cock—it just makes me so horny." She thought she saw his lips twitch as if he were holding back a smile. "It's so hard to hold it back, Sir," she finished, dropping her gaze.

As apologies went, it was pretty damn good, he thought. He was secretly charmed. He brushed his lips over her forehead, her closed eyelids, and murmured, for the second time, "Good girl."

Again, Marie felt joy and relief wash over her at his words. She thought she'd do anything, anytime, to hear him praise her like that. The feeling was quickly replaced by trepidation, however, as he returned his attention to her pussy. She was already burning and wet; how was she supposed to avoid climaxing under his skillful hands? She'd never in her life attempted not to come when she was this horny—if she'd ever even been this horny.

The first thing he did was use both hands to pull her outer lips apart, and then just stood, looking. Marie immediately felt herself coming close to the edge. She moaned, loud and long, and thrashed her head from side to side. He looked up. "I haven't even started yet," he said.

Good Lord, he was teasing her! Didn't he know how hard she was trying to obey him? Couldn't he see how desperate she was? For God's sake, her pussy was practically dripping. She whimpered.

"I can help you," he said, "but it's going to hurt. Do you want that?"

She took a deep breath. "I want...I want to please you," she stammered, hoping that was the right answer.

He stood up and walked away from her without another word. For Marie it was if he'd thrown a bucket of ice-water over her. Had she given the wrong answer? Was this how it would end—he was just going to leave her there? She started to raise herself up on her elbows...

Just as he returned. He saw what she was doing and without breaking his stride simply pointed a forefinger at her...and Marie collapsed back onto the table as if he had physically pushed her down. She gasped with relief.

And then she gasped with pain, and then shrieked out loud as it suddenly doubled. She tried instinctively to reach for the source of her agony—her breasts—but found her wrists pinned to the table under his hands. She began to thrash wildly on the table as she looked down and saw the two large paper-clamps--the spring-driven, sharp-edged metal ones for thick bundles of paper—that he had attached to her nipples. For a moment she panicked, afraid her nipples would be damaged irreparably, but then she looked at his face as he stared, fascinated, at the clips, and she calmed somewhat. For some reason, she trusted him. He must know what he's doing, she thought. And she realized how sexy she must look to him, writhing helplessly in pain.

Somehow she'd managed to keep her heels up on the table, maintaining her spread position. When her wild struggling subsided, and she was just whimpering helplessly at the burning pain in her nipples, he released her wrists and stroked her wide-open thighs. "You're doing great," he said soothingly, and Marie felt absurdly proud. "Don't move your hands," he added.

The initial pain had lessened, and Marie thought she could stand it now. He'd been right, though, about it taking her mind off of her pussy. Her concentration was divided between her clamped nipples and her hungry pussy as he returned his attention to her crotch.

She was able to hold still as he stroked her outer lips, and even when he slid one long finger into her, though she panted and grunted with the effort to keep from humping it. But then he used his other hand to pinch her clit, and her whole body jerked. Crying out, she instinctively grabbed for his hand, trying to force him to release the horrible pressure on her sensitive bud, which was making intense sensations of pain and pleasure shoot through her body. "I told you not to move your hands!" he snapped. "Put them back—now." Sobbing, Marie obeyed, and felt him release her clit at last.

But then he started rubbing it, simultaneously sliding his finger in and out, and she arched her back. It seemed now that the clips on her nipples were not distracting her, but only allowing her arousal to climb higher, the pain somehow blending with the crazy pleasure of his hands on her. "Oh, please!" she wailed.

Her hands gripped the edge of the table then clawed at its surface as she tried desperately to obey his command to keep them still. But it was so fucking hard when he was standing right there between her legs with his huge erection plainly visible as he stroked her to madness—and her entire being was overwhelmed with the desire to seize him by the shoulders and pull him down on top of her.

"Please!" she cried out again, knowing that she couldn't hold out much longer without her entire body shaking itself to pieces.

He continued to work on her, but allowed a tiny hint of a smile to cross his features. "Please...what?"

"Please..." Oh god, she didn't know! Let me come...keep torturing me...make me beg some more! "Please..."

And then it burst out of her, from a place of need so deep that it seemed her whole life had been building up to this moment.

"Fuck me, Sir! ...FUCK ME!"

He hooked his arms under her knees to push her legs back towards her chest then entered her with a single, powerful thrust.

That was all it took for Marie. She screamed as her entire body tightened in rapture. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her toes curled and uncurled, her hands clawed at the table, and then she had no more breath to scream, but kept coming and coming as he fucked her violently, his cock touching her womb, his pelvis mashing her clit with each thrust.

He had never felt anything like it. She was clamped down on him like a vise, her vagina clenching with relentless pressure as he plundered it. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried to hold back his own orgasm, but he soon realized he couldn't hold out and allowed himself to speed up, pistoning in and out like a jackhammer until finally he felt it begin.

He grabbed her throat in one hand and squeezed just enough to make her open her glazed eyes. "Fuck, I'm coming in you!" he growled.

"You...are...MINE!" As his cock began to spurt, he yanked the clips off of her nipples, and, unbelievably, the sudden pain as the blood rushed back to them sent her into a new series of spasms, prolonging his climax, until finally he collapsed on top of her.

When Marie came back to earth, his head was on her chest, nestled between her breasts. His cock was still inside her, and her legs were wrapped around his back. She ran her hands through his peppery hair, over his back, stroking. She'd just had sex with a total stranger in the bookstore. Not only that, she'd submitted to him, begged him to spank her, to fuck her, to let her come. She smiled.

When he lifted his head to meet her gaze, she was still smiling in satisfaction. Her eyes shone with adoration. He smiled back, and they both savored the moment. Then his smile faded and he said sternly, "You came without my permission."

He abruptly stood up, his cock sliding out of her with an audible slurping sound. He reached down to the floor and picked up her panties. He used them to wipe off his cock, still glistening with their combined juices, then did the same for Marie's pussy, roughly, as if wiping down a piece of furniture.

Then in the same brusque manner he proceeded to use her panties to wipe their juices all over Marie's face. Then he seized her by the wrists and pulled her to her feet, saying, "Don't wash your face before tomorrow night."

He held up her panties. "I'll keep these in the cash register. Every piece of change I hand out tomorrow is going to smell like your cunt. Tomorrow at closing time you will meet me at the register. You will apologize for coming without permission and then beg me to punish you."

And with that he scooped up the rest of her clothes with one hand, seized her wrist with the other and dragged her out of the break room and down a short hallway to a door.

He jammed her clothes under his arm and pushed the door open. Marie barely had time to register that it was an unlit alleyway that ran behind all the stores on that block before she was yanked in front of him and then shoved, stumbling, naked, out onto the cold asphalt.

He threw her clothes after her. A moment later her backpack followed. Then without another word he slammed the door.

ooOOoo

Historical Note: “The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty”, referred to in this chapter, was originally published under a pseudonym but by the time of this story had been reissued under the author’s actual name, Ann Rice.