Checking Out the Librarian
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The Librarian free porn video
The Librarian
It was never meant to be like this, her ambitions thwarted, her life bluntedto a compliant daily grind. By now her life should have blossomed into a sensualexploration of existence, full of fascinating ideas and interesting people.Instead she found her self trapped in a small town world. Her mother, thougha day's drive away, still riding on her back like a grotesque growth. Her fatherhad left her mother when she was very young and she had to live with her mother'simplied conclusion she was responsible. 'He was never cut out for domesticity.'she would say, as her eyes appeared to focus on some romantic vision of a gallantyoung lover. She took on the weight of the guilt and carried it stoically whilethrough her teenage years she planned her escape. After graduating with a Bachelorsdegree she felt lucky to get a position in the town's library to help her financeher studies for a Masters. It was then her mother fell ill and not having medicalinsurance needed support. Anna took the opportunity to work full time at thelibrary when it arose, putting her studies on hold. No doctor could find thecause of her mother's fluctuating symptoms and though she suspected hypochondriaand manipulation as the most likely cause of her mother's ailments, she couldnot bring herself to abandon her.
'Anna, could you sort these books before you leave?' said a whiney voicemore as a command than a request. It was Miss Henry, the head librarian, aschool ma'am type that had somehow been abducted from a bygone age and thrustinto the contemporary world to increase the blight on her life. Anna obeyed,she always obeyed and the resentment always grew. Miss Henry knew she was hopingto be away early tonight and this last command was taken as spite. She glancedthrough the pile of books and took them along the rows of shelves, disposingof them in the appropriate place. Even the books had become a measurement ofher discontent. She would take note of the books withdrawn by students andfeel pieces of her future were being secreted away from her between their coversand into someone else's. The philosophers that had once promised her so muchhad all the time been scheming to condemn to the half-light having once awakenedher eager mind. Philosophy was about the preparation for death she was oncetold but it was never mentioned that it increased the torture that precededit. The more she analysed her life the more the emptiness at its core grewlike a quiet cancer. Having finished her last chore for the day she collectedher coat and purse and left, saying goodbye to Miss Henry when she was halfwayout of the door and it was too late to be asked to do another task.
She passed the motels that fought for attention with their giant lollipopstyle signs on the main drag out of town but they simply merged into the anonymityof visual noise between the car lots and fast food restaurants. The motel shewas aiming for was simply called Brown's that was about thirty miles out oftown, a small rundown privately owned affair. She had noticed it once whiledriving over to her mother's in Belleville and was surprised that in all theyears she had took that route she had never spotted it before. It wasn't longbefore she was out of town and driving through the scrub before the desertstarts proper. Ten minutes later she was pulling off the highway and down ashort track to the motel which was set back from the road and the reason whyshe had missed it for all those years. Being so hard to spot made her wonderhow it had remained in business all these years, which intrigued her and waspart of the attraction of choosing to stay there for the night. That and acrossthe highway was a bar called Archie's, an establishment Miss Henry had calledthe Devil's shack. How Miss Henry knew of Archie's she had no idea but shehad a habit of pulling names and places out of the air and condemning them.To question Miss Henry about such things would force her to admit she was speakingout of ignorance and provoke a stream of put downs as a way of defence fromher spiteful mouth.
Pulling up outside the reception she began to feel apprehensive, the placewas more rundown than it appeared from the road. She was considering drivingaway when a face materialised like an apparition in the office window, shefelt caught and once she had hesitated felt unable to pull away. The receptionwas a dinghy affair with coffee stains on the counter and a yellowing postersaying 'Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing and obtaineth favour of theLord' and written under the last line in thick marker pen 'No Whores!' Theface she had seen in the window came through to the reception from the backoffice, it was pock marked and had a sallow colour like it had never seen thesun.
'D'yer wan' a room?.' Moaned the face as it exposed nicotine stained teeth.
'Oh..er..Yes please.' She forced the words out of her mouth. The registrationwas done in silence and she was given a key and simply pointed in the directionof the room that was outside to the left. Since all the rooms where to theleft outside the reception, the pointing was stating the obvious. She drovethe car the short distance to outside the room, parking it immediately in frontof the door and went in. The room was sparse, a bed, a chair and a small TVon a shelf. To her relief it was however clean and on inspection the sheetsfelt fresh as if just they were just changed that morning. She opened the doorat the back of the room, which hid a shower, to her relief that was also clean.In the opposite corner was a closet that was locked, she pulled on the door,it was definitely locked. Having investigated she lay on the bed and staredat the ceiling as she thought about what to do next. Shower and change herclothes then read awhile or read awhile and change later? She took a book outof her bag which she had brought to pass the but never got to reading it, fallingto sleep while whiling away the time in thought.
The lights outside came on which interrupted her light sleep and promptedher to take a shower and change. She discarded her professional clothes thatshe wore for work at the library and put on a blue tank top and denim skirtthat was just on the side of an acceptable length. Pacing the room, at intervalsshe admired herself in the three-quarter-length mirror on the back wall. Shehad just seen her thirtieth birthday disappear into her past but she was pleasedthat no one would consider her more than her mid twenties. Her figure was youngand though she accepted her looks were plain, she was thankful for her mother'smouth, which she considered her best feature. She brushed and readjusted herwig. It was fortunate that despite her being dark haired her skin colouringalso suited blond. Along with the expensive quality of the wig it was almostimpossible to tell she was wearing one. It was time to leave. Outside Archie'swas ablaze like a fairground ride and casting a dome of spectral colours againstthe navy blue sky.
Inside Archie's a country rock band was warming up on the small stage whilea gaggle of customer's shuffled in a circle on the dance floor. The band wasplaying some country rock music that was vaguely familiar but their arrangementhad obscured the original melody. The dimly lit bar was cavernous, made allthe more so by the empty tables but it was early and too early to be disappointedthought Anna. She went over and leant on the bar, placing her foot on the footrail she stuck out her butt like and advertisement.
The barman walked along the a to her while still polishing a glass 'CanI get you anything miss?'
'Barcadi Breezer please.' She said beginning to doubt Miss Henry's assessmentof the establishment. 'Do you get any people in here?'
'Hey George!' Shouted the barman along the bar to a regular Roy Rogers satat the end 'This young lady wants to know if we get any customer's in here!'Roy Rogers laughed and took a swig of his beer and left the barman to answerher 'You'll have so much muscle pushing up against you'll think you're in afuckery by nine.'
She winced at the implication she was a common whore 'There is no need tobe offensive.' She retorted.
'My apologies for being so graphic.' Replied the barman leaning into herface before adding 'But this is Archie's place!'
She felt wounded but reassured. By the time she was asking the barman fora third Breezer the place had substantially filled and the staff behind thebar had multiplied and had no time to socialise with the customer's. The bandwas rolling with more energy than talent, rendering conversation impossibleexcept at close quarters but the atmosphere was energetic and exciting. Ittruly was Miss Henry's hell she thought as she laughed to herself. The placewas hot, sweaty and physical, with people pushing past as they made their waybetween the bar and tables, calling out orders while exchanging jokes and gossip.
It wasn't long before she felt a hand on her butt and a sleazeball shoutingin her ear 'Boy! Have I got something you want!'
'It's the year of our Lord 2003.' Relishing her rhetoric 'A man can be putbehind bars for doing what you are doing to me.' She said without looking tosee who was molesting her.
'You wouldn't want the hunk who's going to give you a party arrested wouldyou?'
'Carry on doing what you are doing and you will either have a good time oryou will be playing solo with your manhood. Either way your balls will be busted.'She said ambiguously.
'Bitch!' Hissed the stranger in her ear and left.
She didn't look round but simply thought 'Gutless!' He deserved nothing,he was too stupid to realise if he had held his nerve he could have got hisparty. She sighed and pondered her behaviour and wondered whether it couldbe described as a form of addiction, habit or a positive life style choice.It is impossible to come to any conclusion she thought. None seemed to be anadequate description but all seemed an appropriate label at various times,depending on how she felt about herself and her feelings towards the worldat large. Addiction suggests a slavery to something that is dangerous or hasa serious adverse affect on ones life. If the danger of being seriously embarrassedfits the definition of addiction then perhaps she was an addict but it didn'tseem serious enough. As for habit, that draws a picture of mindless repetitivebehaviour. She was adamant her behaviour wasn't mindless but there was certainlya repetitive nature to it. That left a positive lifestyle choice but she hadnever really chose to behave like she did, it just sort of happened. This wouldlead her back over her previous contemplations. All the labels contained acertain element of truth but none really defined the whole. These musings forcedher to accept that her behaviour was too fluid to be definitively labelledand left her with intellectual contradictions that couldn't be reconciled.Things felt unresolved, they needed to be specified and categorised, she wasafter all an archivist and librarian.
She looked round and saw all the singles coupling up and all the couplesseemingly exchanging partners. It could end up a lonely evening thanks to thatspineless jerk. Her mind wondered under the morbid influence of the alcoholand pictured herself sliding her hand between two books to help ease anotherinto its correct place, it was Sartre's 'Nausea' and she was returning it toits appropriate section. It was the spine of 'Nausea' that she fixated on whenshe felt a pair of hands take hold of her hips. This she took to be Adam whohad been following her round the campus with his tongue hanging out for quiteawhile. He had never managed to corner her in such a situation that she wouldlet him simply have her rather than her having to confront the knotty problemof refusing him. Now he had her cornered and to her surprise provoked a physicalarousal in her but she was aware she was still mentally cold. She never turnedto acknowledge him but simply allowed his hands to hitch up her skirt and pulldown her panties, giving him the only outward sign of approval by parting herfeet slightly. There she stayed buttressed against the shelves as she felthim fill her and after several minutes of thrusting provoked in her a shalloworgasm. All the time she remained mentally unstimulated while she intellectuallyexplored the physical sensation of the act. It was only after the event thatshe turned to find her sexual partner was a complete stranger. She was takenaback to find the power of arousal she experienced at discovering this factwhere horror seemed to be the more appropriate reaction. Any pretence at beingin control of events at that point simply vanished, she had ceased to be arational being and had turned animal. It amused her to think that her sexualsavagery had initially startled her surreptitious lover. Afterwards when theywere both sated he simply left. She never saw him again and wondered if hewas a fellow student or just some workman who happened to be lost on campus.It left with her an arousing memory without the messy small talk to endurewith hidden embarrassment.
She was about to buy her last drink and admit the evening had been a failurewhen a hand slipped between her legs and pressed its fingers through her pantiesand into the entrance of her vagina. She took a sharp intake of breath butremained firmly fixed in the position she had assumed. She looked into themirror behind the bar but the rim of the hat of her assailant hid his facein shadow. The hand kneaded her pudendum and felt her body react favourablyto its crude intervention. Her lips parted as if she was going to speak.
'I know.' Said a confident voice 'A man could get arrested for doing whatI'm doing to a woman.'
'Then you know what comes next?' Her voice trailed off as she tried to copewith her arousal.
'Yeah.' He gave a small laugh 'You are going to toss a coin and decide whetherit's you or the cops that are going to bust my balls.'
'How do you know that?' She asked as she tried to keep her voice steady.
'You've got yourself a reputation as a ball breaker already.'
'Oh.' She said as if she had forgot her previous assailant and had now justremembered him but it came out sounding as much a response to the stranger'sstimulation of her 'Your friend?'
'I wouldn't call him that.' Breathed the stranger in her ear as he concentratedmore on what he was doing between her legs than on the conversation. 'Do youhave anywhere we can go?'
'I'm staying at the motel across the way.'
'Brown's?' He asked as if there was more than the one motel. 'Which room?'
'Twelve.' Freely giving the information.
'Okay.' He increased his stimulation of her. 'I'll see you there in an hour'and then he was gone. She breathed deeply to return a sense of equilibriumto herself and looked round expecting the bar to have noticed her lusting atthe stranger's brazen introduction. No one appeared to have noticed her willingparticipation in such exhibitionism. She took one last drink to kill the lasthalf an hour.
Outside the air had cooled with the night. She was giddy on drink and theprospect of the stranger waiting to have her. Although she enjoyed the physicalfeel of sex, as an activity it was something she always found embarrassingto discuss or confront. When she was a teenager she always found it easierto allow her boyfriends to have their way with her than to say no and so confrontthe idea of sex head on. It helped if there was some attraction but even ifthere wasn't, should she close her eyes and concentrate on the touch of sexshe enjoyed it up to a point. Like now she could still feel the stranger'sfingers pressing between her legs. She was still savouring his fingers probingher while lamenting the slow melting away of the sensation. It didn't matterwho the stranger was, he was a tool, a sex toy, she knew nothing about himand he, nothing about her and she preferred it that way. Tomorrow and for sometimeto come or until the next time he would haunt her fantasies and could be whoeverand whatever she wanted. She came back to the moment at hand, cars were leavingthe parking lot and shooting off each way down the highway. Lovers were hurryinghome to indulge in each other's bodies. All those vaginas, she thoughr, thatare lustily being filled with violent erections. Sadness fell about her asshe began to dwell on what she saw as her social inadequacy, her inabilityto open up to and confront her fantasies with a partner. It was a truck's blazinglight and horn that shocked her out of her morbidity as it blasted past heras she staggered aimlessly across the highway. She became more purposeful andmade her way across the highway and down the track to the motel. It was quietand there was no sign of her stranger who promised her a rendez vous. She lookedround, there weren't any shadows where it seemed possible he could be hidingto surprise her and why would he? She was just some flakey easy lay that hadthe dubious humour of threatening what she offered to potentially be freedomrobbing.
Dejectedly she opened the door to her motel room and was just entering theroom when she experienced a violent push in the back. She flew forward, divingheadfirst onto the bed where a heavy weight immediately fell upon her and heldher down. Her arms were forced behind her back and her wrists tied with somethingsharp which she later she found to be a cable tie. Before she could gatherherself and work out what was happening her skirt had been removed and herpanties ripped off. Whoever it was that was assailing her grabbed a hold ofher hips pulling her ass up so it was in the air and her face was buried inthe bed covers. She felt a violent lash across her buttocks that made her shriekinto the covers. Forcing her head sidewards she caught her breath as she triedto look behind her. It pained her neck but she caught a glimpse of the strangerwielding a leather belt. He was naked but for his cowboy hat. He had an athleticbody but the hat made him look ridiculous and would have broken her spell ifit were not for the fact it hid his face. Not being able to see his face andso keeping him anonymous was enough for her to remain captured by the eventthat was carrying her along. She could show her ass to the world as long asshe couldn't see a face staring back at her. Several more lashes cut acrossher ass as she buried her face once again in the covers to stifle her shrieksof pain and helped her to endure the assault. She was subject to violent thrashing,slaps and penetrations. Though all the violence was measured and calculatednot to cause her harm her. It was the symbolism that was the power. Her strangerinstinctively knew what she wanted but which she could not articulate untilthat moment of experience. She wanted to be dominated and her ego totally annihilated.He was orchestrating her escape into some inner space. It was as though shewas experiencing the pain by proxy. Her body felt detached from her mind, whichinhabited some parallel world in a state of euphoria. Eventually the violencestopped and her wrists were freed. It was impossible to know how long she hadbeen flying or how long she remained prostrate on the bed blanking her mindto delay the inevitable plunge to earth. Hovering on the peripheral of hersemi-consciousness was a vague realisation that it only a matter of time beforeshe would come round to experience the depressive aftermath of her flight.
'I knew what you was after as soon as I saw you.' Came a voice behind her.
She turned her head and looked down the length of the bed to see the invertedimage of the naked man in the hat sat on the easy chair in the corner of theroom 'How come?' she moaned.
'You're a junkie.' He said 'You need kicks.'
'Thanks.' As she returned her head back into what was a more comfortableposition.
'No need to thank me.' Said the stranger taking a mouthful of liqueur 'Ishould be thanking you.'
'You're welcome.' She groaned, feeling the aches and the accompanied fatigue.Even this small talk was too much as she gave up and drifted at first intoan inner world and then to sleep.
The dull light of the dawn had started to filter through the drapes but itwas the chill of the morning that woke her. Her bones had absorbed the coldof the room, which felt heavy as stone within her. She was still lying on herbelly as she had been when she had fallen to sleep and easing herself ontoher back made her limbs ache from cramp that had been induced in her by therigors of what could have only been a few hours earlier. The naked strangerwas still sat in the chair in a drunken sleep. His hat pulled over his eyesand his chin resting on his chest. He looked ludicrous with his legs partedand his pathetic little worm nestled between his thighs. She rolled onto herside and pushed herself up into a sitting position, her bladder was bloatedwhich increased her sense of nausea. Silence can be loud when it dominatesthe atmosphere like a dead weight. She went and emptied her bladder, remainingseated on the toilet as she absorbed the comfort of the relief. If emptinesscould be a physical phenomenon that had solid form, it now was in her headand plying pressure on her very being. Returning to the room she studied thenaked stranger whose body seemed to encompass pig like qualities. It was snoringand smelt of stale alcohol and tobacco. She went up to him and studied himcloser. In the dim light of the dawn his skin was pale and bloodless and hisbody lacked tone, as though he was a sack that had been dumped in the chair.She picked up the heavy empty whisky bottle at his feet and raising it aboveher head brought it crashing down on his. The bottle smashed and the strangerslumped in the chair. She immediately lunged at the stranger staking him inthe neck with the remains of the bottleneck and jagged glass blade that extendedfrom it. The bottleneck stuck out from the stranger's neck. Blood trickledalong the bottleneck, dripping from its rim, giving a bizarre image, like collectingsap from a tree. Only this was blood from pork. In her eyes the stranger wasno more than literally a pig. She backed off and sat on the edge of the bedbut remained fixated on the pig should he show signs of life. There was a voicewithin her telling her to remain vigilant of the pig's resurrection but shecould see that there was nothing more dead than dead meat.
She considered the incremental steps that had brought her here. The lovelesssharing of her body, touch without emotion, actions without morals but whatof these things, could they have made a difference? She pulled the wig fromher head and exchanged her tank top for the shirt she wore for the libraryonce she had distressed her work shirt enough. Then putting her grey flannelwork skirt through the same tribulations as her shirt she flung it on the floor.Gathering up the wig and clothes she had worn at Archie's she stuffed themin her bag. The lack of blood pouring from the pig had surprised her. It simplyemptied from him in a neat trickle. All the while she had constantly watchedthe pig with the same morbid fascination of passing a car crash on the freeway.
She picked up the phone and began to sob as she dialled 'Police?' snifflingbefore sobbing inconsolably once again 'I want to report a rape……'By the time the call had been made the sun was above the horizon and the dayhad begun proper. The pig remained slumped and docile in the chair while theunassuming librarian waited on the edge of the bed, listening out for the policesiren.
Madison
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