The Library

Stepping into the elevator, i'm already sure the people around me know. It must be a pheromone i give off, some nervous hyper sexual energy, though "submissive" isn't exactly written all over me as i continue some idle, mindless talk with a few people from my last class- my composure is in place for now. There's this sense of hesitance that grips me but only momentarily, as i wait to cross the street to the library. i could just take the train home now, and pretend that none of this ever happened. How does He know i'll follow through, anyway? It occurs to me, that, yes, He knows i will be there shortly, He knows i will follow His explicit orders. He can be confident in this because He didn't ask, He told me. He knows because He'll be watching my every move Himself.

The second floor is brimming with people-more than i expected for early Friday evening; immediately taking a seat is not an option. Shuffling of papers, half-murmured muttering into cell phones and the low, excitable chatter of students in little groups is amplified by my state- flushed with anticipation. i smooth down my white silk button down and run my fingers through my hair as if this sense of being watched was just paranoia.

The instructions were clear, the day rife with progressive tease- upon waking i'd take my vibrator on a morning run, tucked into the pouch of my hoodie, shave carefully in the shower without any indulgent lingering touch and go about the rest of the morning as usual.

Standing there, i'm aware of the fleeting eye contact with every man i see. A few lingering glances to my frame let me know it's not a man with thick white socks stuffed into his loafers- too obvious- and breathe a sigh of relief. i wonder if He's close-by or watching from afar, or perhaps He. . .

"Are you . . .?"

Shaking out of my daze i look up to see a well dressed man (a professor? A peer? my Dom?) smiling amicably down at me, collecting his papers and pushing in His chair.

"Excuse me?"

"you look like you could use a seat."

Thanking him, embarrassed at my flighty appearance, i take my place at the desk top he had been occupying. i busy myself trying to look casual, at a loss as to how i can subtlely follow instructions. The first ones were so much easier to execute, though harder to stand- i thought back to my second set of orders that morning, halfway through my second class.

Leaning against the wall, i had pulled out my vibrator from his hiding place in my purse. Grateful that no one else seemed to be around, i slid the controls to "low" and gasped as it made contact with my sensitive, slick clit, its loud whirring echoing in the stall. As instructed, i teased myself until breathless, famished for my Dom's cock, and absolutely soaked. i turned it off reluctantly and whimpered slightly as i slid the vibrator into my hot, needy cunt. Pulling my panties back, low on my hips, i had whined at the thought of His next command- sit attentively through my next few classes, ignoring my stuffed, craving pussy and take notes as per usual.

Slowly, now, hyper aware of the activity around me, i move my hand up my thigh. Holding my breath, i am not sure whether it'd be more agonizing to constantly look for a pair of distant eyes watching my every move or to ignore the thought all together. The constant typing and scribbling around me is comforting, knowing that no one in the immediate vicinity is aware of the salaciousness only inches away. Moving slowly, my fingers meet a hard protrusion between my thighs, covered with a thin layer of cotton- the only thing separating this lewdness from the open air.

Moving the fabric aside, every nerve is exposed and i can feel the lazy atmosphere overwhelm me as i feel this performance begin. i've been dreading it all morning- never one for exhibitionism- but conversely felt the thrill of my brash sexuality contrasting with the dullness around me, the rush of my Dom's will painted over my own. Clicking aimlessly on the homepage of the school's website as my left fingers grasp the base of the vibrator, this heady, near violent urge to come rips through me. The constant teasing has been inciting a crescendo of want, at first madly distracting and now demanding satisfaction. Shame doesn't have a face here any longer as i'm overpowered by lust. Anyway, when given permission to orgasm after prolonged absence of release, there isn't room for doubt.

i try to hide the low whine that's building in my throat as i pull the thick tool from my contracting pussy- it always surprises me how unaccustomed i am to my own vibrator. i feel this simmering need evolving and its strength is intimidating, even to the one that bares it. Greed for pleasure but more potently, the greed to please my Dom overwhelming my panicking impulses to be more conservative with what is now a slow, rhythmic pump of this pseudo-cock dragging in and out of me.

The tease of secrecy all at once exacerbates my frustration and heightens my excitement. i want nothing more than to graduate to quick, long thrusts, to turn it on high and fuck myself to total and absolute ecstasy. This gag of restraint i must endure in composure is agonizing, the moans and sighs are swallowed, but not without difficulty. i feel egregious in my exhibitionism, and the eyes burning into me are not imagined. i want Him furiously now- His strength overcoming mine and His cock churning my need to utter bliss. i think of Him watching me inches or feet away, pleased that it takes but a few words to elicit such a response, knowing His word creates a willingness to submit, a willingness to overcome reluctance and inspire an eagerness to please, to show what a good sub i can be, to realize my boundaries are by no means rigid, and no longer at my discretion.

The pressure within me has built to a fevered high, the slow, small methodic rocking of my silent, demanding vibrator has me on edge. These careful, staggered movements provoke a different breed of release- the sensation one of a fire being slowly spread throughout my limbs, but with cool, icy undertones enveloping me, prickling the soles of my feet. i have to let go of the mouse and bring my hand up to my mouth. In a way i'm past caring if it looks casual, past caring if these fleeting glances my way share the secret or look on in indifference, and just that, that knowledge and empowerment of my wanting, my sexuality takes me to a higher plane of being.

It couldn't have been long, but the sensation was an incapacitating one. i think of my posture and its twin in mental bondage- my legs curled around those of the chair, tied in obedience, the gag of silence between my lips (slightly parted at the intense spike of pleasure emanating from my core). i can't help but collapse slightly as i feel the residual contractions of orgasm release me, the soft, soaked fabric replaced over the tool embedded into my cunt. A quiet, all encompassing orgasm that held onto me, and wouldn't let me go- the gaze, the knowing, that familiar Stranger enjoying the display and His own power, and yet i still wish for, undeniably crave His cock.

"Are you done?" snapping to attention, i notice the well dressed man with his briefcase, gesturing to the log in page that has popped up- my session expired.

"Oh, yes, sorry. . . " flushed at how dissolute i must appear, wondering just how much he had seen, i get up, smoothing down my skirt and collect my books, swiftly walking to the elevator.

Closing in from behind me as i turn in the confined space, He's close now, pushing me against the far wall, growling low into my ear.

"The answer I was looking for was, 'yes Sir.'"