tagBDSMThe Bookstore Ch. 01

The Bookstore Ch. 01

byzenmackie©

By lamignonne and Zenmackie



(This is a story that was originally posted under a different title and in a different listing than mine because it was co-authored. I thought that some of the readers who enjoy my stories might have missed it because of that, which is why it's being re-posted here. This is the first of ten chapters.

My co-author, lamignonne, was my first online submissive, and we are still friends today. At the time of this posting, however, (January, 2013) I'm currently looking for a new online submissive in need of training. So if you find something of yourself in the character of Marie in this story, please check my bio and feel free to get in touch.)




She thought, for perhaps the 1oth 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.

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byzenmackie© 18 comments/ 48985 views/ 38 favorites

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