CHAPTER 11: LIBRARIAN SUBMISSION PT 2

Marcus stood close in the narrow aisle between the tall shelves, and his voice was low and steady as he looked at her. 

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” he said. “Having you here after hours. Making you stay quiet while I tell you exactly what I want. I want to bind your wrists so you can’t push me away. I want to open your clothes slow and look at every part of you. I want to feel how wet you get when I order you to spread your legs. I want to hear you say you’re mine to use in this library, on your knees, with your mouth open for me. I’ve pictured bending you over a table and taking you while you try not to make noise. I’ve imagined holding your hair and fucking your throat until your eyes water behind those glasses. All of it controlled. All of it because you want it too.”

Sophia’s breath came short, and her hands trembled at her sides while heat rose in her face and chest. She swallowed and forced the words out. 

“I’ve had thoughts like that for years. Secret ones. About someone taking control. About being told what to do and not having a choice once I say yes. About being used and still needing more. I never told anyone. I thought about it at night and felt guilty in the morning. But I never stopped.”

Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out a dark silk tie, then held it up so she could see it. 

“I want to bind your wrists with this. In front of you. Not too tight. You can still move a little. Tell me yes or no.”

Her voice shook. 

“Yes.”

He stepped closer. 

“Say it clear.”

“Yes. Bind my wrists.”

Marcus took her hands and brought them together in front of her body. He wrapped the silk around her wrists, crossing it once, then twice, and tied a firm knot. The fabric was smooth and cool at first, then warmed against her skin, and she tested the hold while it held. Her pulse beat hard under the silk.

He looked at her face. 

“Still yes?”

“Yes.”

Marcus started with the buttons of her blouse and worked from the top down, slow. Each button came free with a soft tug, and the fabric parted. He pushed it open and looked at her pale, heavy breasts in the plain bra. He reached behind her and unhooked the bra with one hand, and the cups loosened. He slid the straps down her arms until the bra hung useless at her waist, and her breasts settled free with nipples already tight from the cool air and the way he stared.

He cupped them, and his palms were warm and rough from work. He squeezed gently at first, then firmer, lifting the weight of them and letting them drop while his thumbs brushed over her nipples in slow circles. Sophia’s breath hitched, and her bound hands twitched.

Marcus lifted the hem of her skirt next. He pushed it up around her hips and held it there with one hand while the other slid up the inside of her thigh. His fingers traced the soft skin until they reached the edge of her underwear. He did not push under the fabric yet. He just pressed the flat of his hand against the heat between her legs and felt the damp fabric.

“You’re already wet,” he said.

Sophia made a small sound.

He leaned in and kissed the side of her neck, and his mouth was open and warm. He dragged his lips along the tendon there, then bit lightly. Sophia’s glasses fogged at the edges from her quick breathing, and the lenses blurred for a second before clearing again.

Marcus whispered against her skin. 

“Keep your hands where they are. Don’t try to cover yourself. Stand still while I touch you.”

He pinched one nipple between finger and thumb and rolled it, and the pressure was steady. Sophia’s knees softened. He did the same to the other side, then he went back to her thighs with both hands this time. He pushed her legs a little wider and rubbed over the crotch of her underwear in slow strokes, and the fabric grew wetter under his fingers.

From somewhere on another floor came the faint sound of a cart wheel and a mop bucket, and the night janitor was still working. The noise was distant but clear enough. Sophia’s body tensed, and Marcus felt it.

“He won’t come up here,” Marcus said against her ear. “But you like that he could. Admit it.”

She stayed quiet.

He pressed harder between her legs. 

“Say it.”

“I like the risk,” she whispered.

Marcus slid two fingers under the edge of her underwear and found her slick skin, then rubbed slow circles over her clit. Sophia’s hips jerked forward once before she forced them still, and her bound wrists rested against his chest now while the silk grew tight when she pulled.

“Tell me how wet you are,” he ordered. “Out loud.”

Sophia’s voice cracked. 

“I’m very wet.”

“More. Describe it.”

“I’m soaked. My underwear is stuck to me. I can feel it running down a little.”

Marcus pushed one finger inside her, and she was hot and tight and dripping. He added a second finger and worked them in and out with a steady rhythm, and the wet sound was quiet but clear in the silent stacks. Sophia’s breathing turned ragged. Her glasses fogged again, and a small drop of condensation slid down one lens.

He kept talking in that same controlled voice. 

“I’m going to make you stand here and take this until your legs shake. Then I’m going to put you on your knees. You’re going to open your mouth when I tell you. You’re going to let me use it. And you’re going to stay quiet enough that the janitor doesn’t hear. Nod if you understand.”

Sophia nodded. Her cheeks were flushed dark, and her nipples stayed hard under his free hand as he pinched and rolled them in time with the thrust of his fingers.

The cart sound came again, a little closer this time, then faded. The adrenaline made her clench around his fingers, and Marcus felt it and smiled against her neck.

He pulled his hand free and wiped his wet fingers across one of her breasts, leaving a shiny trail. Then he stepped back just enough to look at her. Skirt rucked up. Blouse open. Bra hanging. Wrists bound. Glasses slightly fogged. Chest rising fast.

“On your knees,” he said.

Sophia hesitated for half a second. Marcus put a hand on her shoulder and guided her down, and the carpet was thin and hard under her knees. She settled there between the shelves with bound wrists resting on his thighs as he stood in front of her. Her face was level with his belt, and she looked up while he looked down.

Marcus rested one hand on the back of her head, fingers sliding into her hair but not pulling yet, and his other hand stayed free at his side.

“Stay like that,” he said. “Hands on my thighs. Mouth closed until I say otherwise. Breathe. Feel how hard I am.”

Sophia’s bound hands pressed against the solid muscle of his thighs, and through the fabric of his trousers she could feel the thick ridge of his cock. Heat radiated off him, and her own body ached between her legs where his fingers had been. The distant janitor noise came once more, then silence again, and the risk sat sharp in her chest and made her even wetter.

Marcus kept his voice low and even. 

“This is what I pictured. You on your knees in the stacks with your wrists tied and your tits out. Waiting. Needing. I’m going to open my pants next and put my cock against your lips. You’re going to keep them closed until I tell you to open. Then you’re going to take what I give you. Slow at first. Then deeper. And you’re going to look up at me the whole time. Understand?”

“Yes,” Sophia whispered.

He stroked her hair once. 

“Good. Stay still. I’m not done looking at you yet.”

He stood there a few more seconds, just watching her. Her heavy breasts moved with each breath, and her nipples were dark and tight. The silk around her wrists had left faint marks already. A thin line of wetness showed on the inside of one thigh where it had escaped her underwear. Her glasses had cleared again, but the lenses still caught the low light.

Marcus finally reached for his belt, and the metal buckle made a soft clink. He opened it slow, and the sound of the zipper was loud in the quiet aisle. He freed his cock and held it in one hand. It was thick and hard, the head already slick. He stepped half a step closer so the tip brushed Sophia’s closed lips.

“Feel that,” he said. “That’s what you’re going to take. Keep your mouth shut for now. Just feel the weight of it against you.”

Sophia stayed still, and her lips pressed together. The heat of him was immediate, and a drop of precome smeared across her lower lip. She did not lick it away.

Marcus rested the head against her mouth and rolled his hips once, dragging the underside of his cock across her lips and chin. Then he stopped and looked down at her again.

“You’re going to open when I count to three,” he said. “Not before. And when you open, you’re going to keep your tongue flat and let me push in. No sucking yet. Just take it. Ready?”

Sophia’s answer was a small nod. Her bound hands stayed on his thighs, and her fingers dug in a little.

From far away the janitor’s cart rolled again. The sound was faint but real. Sophia’s pulse hammered in her throat, and Marcus felt the tension in her shoulders and smiled.

“One,” he said.

Sophia’s breath came faster through her nose.

“Two.”

Her glasses fogged at the corners once more.

“Three. Open.”

Sophia parted her lips, and Marcus pushed the head of his cock into the wet heat of her mouth. He stopped there, just the first thick inch, and held still.

“Good,” he murmured. “Stay like that. Breathe through your nose. Feel how full your mouth already is. This is only the start.”

He kept one hand in her hair, not forcing, just holding, and the other rested on her bound wrists where they pressed against his thighs. Sophia’s tongue stayed flat under him like he had ordered. Saliva started to gather, and a thin line of it slipped from the corner of her mouth and ran down her chin.

Marcus stayed still for several long seconds, letting her adjust to the weight and the stretch. Then he pushed another inch deeper. Sophia’s throat worked, and her eyes watered slightly behind the glasses.

“That’s it,” he said. “You’re doing exactly what I want. Keep those wrists on my thighs. Don’t pull away. I’m going to use your mouth now. Slow. Controlled. And you’re going to take every bit of it.”

He began to move with short strokes at first, the head sliding over her tongue and back to her lips, then deeper again. The wet sound of it filled the small space between the shelves. Sophia’s heavy breasts swayed with each careful thrust, and her nipples stayed hard in the cool air. The silk around her wrists creaked softly when her fingers flexed against his legs.

Marcus kept his voice low and steady the entire time. 

“I’ve wanted this for months. Watching you work. Watching the way you push your glasses up your nose. Imagining them fogged while I fuck your throat. Imagining these tits bouncing while you choke a little and still stay on your knees for me. You’re going to come for me later with my cock still in your mouth. But not yet. Right now you just take what I give.”

The distant sound of the janitor faded completely, and the library was quiet again except for the wet slide of Marcus’s cock in Sophia’s mouth and the soft sound of her breathing through her nose. Her bound wrists stayed where he had put them, and her knees pressed into the thin carpet while heat pulsed between her legs with every slow thrust.

Marcus looked down at her and kept moving, measured and deep, exactly as he had said he would.