The Librarian

"That's enough, now," he said huskily. "You now have 60 seconds to decide what will happen next." This time she did not wait the full time, but slipped into his lap facing him and began working his penis with her hand until it was hard enough to push its way into her. She stood up on her knees and held him in place as she sank down on him, forcing the half-hard member into her very tight and very dry vaginal opening. Only a slight film of saliva served as lubricant, and both felt the painful friction as he finally settled into her.

She then began rocking her pelvis on him, rising slightly on her knees when he began to thrust. This time Stan was able to block out the sight of four co-workers quietly masturbating as they stood just a couple of feet from the chair. He concentrated on the wonderful bare breasts that swayed gloriously in front of his face with every thrust of his pelvis. He came in a manner of just a few minutes and hugged her down to himself as he did. He could feel the semen slipping out around his penis and running down her crack to fall on his thighs, and saw the four men watching the same thing, entranced – but he did not care, he just wanted to hold Sandra tightly for a minute or two, wondering what could possibly happen next that he would not hate himself for in the morning.

Finally he sat up and looked at his watch.

"Sixty seconds," he said softly, looking at the girl with loving, hurting eyes. The eyes she looked back with were not the resigned, sad eyes of an hour before, however, but carried a hint of confidence and determination he had not seen before in the woman.

Sandra pulled herself away from her lover, grabbing a tissue from a box beside the couch to catch any additional discharge, and walked to the door. Turning, she looked at the four men who had followed her every move with leering, lustful eyes.

"I want you four to get dressed and leave, now," she said without inflection. "It is time for my man and I to have private time together, you have had your fun."

The four quickly looked at Stan, their eyes shouting accusation when he nodded.

"It is her call," he said, relieved. "I made no promises and have played by the rules we set beforehand." The four then dressed, nodded to Stan, leered at Sandra, and left the house.

"How much time do I have left?" she asked shyly, smiling for the first time that evening.

"All night," he said, smiling back, telling her with his eyes that he was grateful the night had not been any worse.

"Then I want a warm bath in the Jacuzzi, and a sensual all-body massage from my man," she said, her breasts rising and falling with her heavy breathing. She was not accustomed to being in control, but was willing to test his resolve to let her call the shots.

Stan rose, took her hand and led her to the bathroom, where they filled the tub and luxuriated in its warm, probing jets . . . and in each other's silent, respectful presence.

As he later kneaded her body with loving hands, Stan reconsidered the events of the evening. His friend had told him such a test would reveal whether the woman was submissive by nature, or had just been beaten down into a pattern of submission. Stan knew he could not have stayed with a truly submissive woman, though he now understood why many men could – her vulnerability and passive acceptance of his commands had given him a sense of power he had never known before, even as a foreman with absolute authority over very strong-willed construction workers.

But his own nature was not dominant, and he therefore needed someone who would let him know when they were uncomfortable and who would themselves ask for relief when they might become sexually frustrated or in need of cuddling or loving.

He knew he still had one more test. She had accepted the fact she did not have to submit to every desire of their four guests – would she be able to do the same with him? He would soon know.

Stan rolled his lover onto her back and began to slowly stimulate her, kissing her with his mouth as he worked her lower body with his index finger. She responded almost immediately with a warm wetness that invited his entry – and he wasted no time doing so.

As he slowly glided in and out of her accepting body, he leaned forward and took her left nipple in his mouth, playing roughly with his tongue and lips, feeling it swell to a fullness he had come to love.

Then, suddenly, he grabbed the nipple with his teeth, pulling back and stretching it and the breast beyond its normal extension. Sandra let out a gasp and instinctively clamped every muscle in her body tight, filling him with even greater desire as he felt her grab him inside. He pulled back further and she began to release, accepting what he was doing to her. The strokes again began to rhythmically slide in and out while he pulled on her nipple with clamped teeth.

He let the nipple slide harshly free from between his teeth, then, feeling her flinch all over as the tender flesh was abused by the roughness they had been subjected to. A few seconds later he leaned forward again to take the nipple between his teeth, and felt her body tense briefly before yielding again to his pleasure.

This time be began to move more powerfully in and out of her, biting down harder with each thrust. He had just felt the tender skin give way and the taste of blood hit his tongue when her hand reached up to grab the back of his hair, trying to pull him away from her.

"Stan, please . . . Stan, please stop. Please!"

He let go of the nipple, this time not harshly but cleanly, and then leaned forward to gently surround the bruised and torn flesh with the softness of his lips. He did not need to continue moving in her, he had come at the moment he tasted blood. It had excited him, but it had not pleased him . . . because it did not please the one he had learned to love.

He gave her time to clean up and wrap a robe around her body and then led her to the living room. She sat beside him and he saw nothing in her eyes but love and a slight hint at fear. She had not remained submissive in the face of pain, and was afraid she had disappointed him, knowing that he must have enjoyed the moment due to his immediate ejaculation.

Stan opened her robe and gently fingered the abused nipple, squeezing it lightly and sensing her desire to withdraw it from further abuse, though she did not.

"That was pretty uncomfortable, huh?" he asked watching her eyes. She nodded, looking up at him, pleading with her eyes not be angry or dismissive. He waited to see if she would speak.

"If felt good for a long while, just not at the end," she offered.

"How do you mean it felt good?"

"It was painful, kind of, but because it was happening together with us making love, it was like it was part of the love," she tried to explain. "It was pain, but it was delicious pain . . . at least for a while."

"And then?"

"It just became real pain and blocked out everything else."

Stan nodded.

"So, if you had a special word to use to let me know when it was just enough pain, then you might have had an orgasm with me, is that right?" She nodded quickly, looking at him with shining eyes.

"Alright, then, from now on, whenever you call me Stanley, I will know to back off a little and not go any farther. Would that work?" She leaned over and kissed him warmly on the lips.

"Would that also go for things like earlier this evening?" she asked after a minute's hesitation.

"Absolutely. I guess that was pretty uncomfortable for you?"

"Yes," she almost whispered. "Everything but the chair."

"What about the chair?"

"I enjoyed having you tie me up and knowing I was completely helpless and at your mercy and subject to your every desire . . . at least until the other guys got here."

"There won't ever be any other guys again," he said, stroking her hair gently and loving her with his eyes. "That was just to get a point across."

"I think I understand . . ." she began, then paused thoughtfully. "I do understand, Stan, and will be a willing partner from now on, letting you know what pleases me and what does not, and letting you know if it is the wrong time or wrong situations for me to enjoy it." He smiled acknowledgement of her understanding.

"And you will not just wait until I want sex, but will take the initiative yourself when you are horny so I can feel like I am fulfilling your needs as well as my own?" She nodded, and gave him a warm hug.

"I will."

"Then I have something for you," Stan said, slipping a small box from the pocket of his robe.

She looked at him, surprised, and then opened the box to see a modest diamond engagement ring. As if in a trance she slipped it from the box and onto her finger, touching it gingerly as if it would break.

"Will you marry me, Sandy?" he asked quietly.

Her reply was to slip off her robe in one breathless motion, straddling his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately.

He opened his own robe, and picked her body up slightly, allowing his newly-erect penis to slip into her. They embraced as they began to move together, slowly, sensually.

Finally she broke the embrace and moved her mouth down to his left nipple, roughing it up with her tongue and lips before playfully nipping it with her teeth.

His strokes became quicker, more meaningful.

She nipped again, this time more aggressively.

Then he experienced it. . . delicious pain.

And the two shared a double orgasm that they would forever remember, and duplicate for many years to come.