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Message-ID: <61518asstr$1317168669@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Shon Richards <shonrichards@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: Shon Richards <shonrichards@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Hard Lessons (Mdom/Fsub, Books)
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Date: Tue, 27 Sep 2011 20:11:09 -0400
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<1st attachment, "HardLessons.doc" begin>

This erotic story was written by me, Shon Richards.  Please do
not reprint on your website, blog, love letters to your lover etc
without asking me first.  I have yet to refuse a reprint but
let's just be polite about it, okay?

You can write to me at shonrichards at yahoo.com.  I will be
delighted to hear your comments.

Find out what I am up to at http://erotiterrorist.blogspot.com/
as well as read my more current work. 


"Hard Lessons"
By Shon Richards
 
"A good librarian makes use of all of her senses," Mr. Dillon
said.

Claire Currie nodded but did not verbally answer.  She was
blindfolded and her blouse was unbuttoned.  Her skirt was on the
floor along with her panties.  Because it was a Wednesday, her
panties today were dark red.  The stockings that only came up to
her thighs could do nothing to protect her bare bottom from the
cold seat of the chair.  

It was just another Wednesday for Claire as an assistant
librarian for the Colette-Ashbee Collection.  Claire worked for
the world's greatest collection of erotica.  She accompanied Mr.
Dillon as he gathered books from all walks of life.  In between
book purchasing, he trained her in the many complex skills of
being an erotic librarian.  They also fucked a lot. 

She was being tested. Claire had a naughty thought and hoped Mr.
Dillon did not see her smirk.  In erotic stories, this would be
the part where the author would talk about the intricate knots or
invincible locks that were pinning her hands and ankles to the
arms and legs of the chair.  There were no physical bonds here. 
Mr. Dillon felt Claire's discipline should be the only restraints
she needed.  She still wasn't sure if this was a sign of
arrogance concerning his dominance, or an absolute faith in her
ability to submit.

A harsh pinch to her breast brought her out of her thoughts.  Mr.
Dillon's fingers had an inch of her large breast and he was
twisting it viciously.  She knew from experience that purple
bruises will decorate her dark skin in the morning.

"Pay attention Ms. Currie," Mr. Dillon said.  He released her
breast.  "You have a passable mastery of determining whether a
book is a first edition or a later edition fraudulently altered.
You have shown some progress in recognizing the major printing
houses that publish erotica as well as a little improvement in
recalling the history of written erotica."

Claire almost blushed.  From Mr. Dillon, this was the equivalent
of gushing praise.

"But all of these things rely on sight," Mr. Dillon said.  "Now
is the time to test your cognitive ability using your other
senses."

Claire nodded.  "Just in case I ever have to sort through books
during a blackout?"

This time he pinched her thigh.  Cruel fingers bit into her skin
like a vice.  The twisting hurt, but that wasn't the bad part. 
The bad part was that his fingers were so close to her sex.  It
was painful but it was also so damn teasing.  

 "Your attempts at humor are as weak as your ability to analyze
Miller," Mr. Dillon said.  "Please refrain from further attempt
today.  Are you ready to be tested?"

"Yes, Mr. Dillon," Claire said.

The fingers released her thigh.  "Excellent," he said.  "Let us
begin."

Claire braced herself.  The sensation of being pinched lingered
on her thigh.  She was nervous but she refused to move her hands
or feet.  A good librarian behaves,

A smell assaulted her nose.  It was musty, old and a little
damp.

"Does this book have mold, or not?" Mr. Dillon asked.

The smell moved away.  "Let me smell it again, please," she
requested.

"No," Mr. Dillon said.

Claire concentrated.  "I believe it was moldy," she said.

"Believe, or know, Ms. Currie?" Mr. Dillon said.

"I know," Claire said.

"Hmm," Mr. Dillon said.  

Claire felt something mark her left breast.  It was one stroke
and it felt like a marker.  She knew better than to ask what it
was. 

He asked her nine more times to identify mold by smell alone. 
When she gave her answer, he would mark either her right breast
or her left one.  After ten books, she had six on her left and
four on her right.  

"Terrible," Mr. Dillon said. "You only got six of them right."

Claire sighed with relief.  At least she had more right than
wrong.  

"Open your thighs, Ms. Currie" Mr. Dillon commanded.  

Claire spread her legs as wide as possible.  She knew what he
wanted to get to.  Her pelvis shifted to give him as much access
as possible to her cunt.

Hands gripped her thighs and Claire gasped as she felt Mr.
Dillon's mouth.  His lips pushed through her thick pubic hair and
licked at her sex.  She shivered as he found her clitoris and she
moaned as his tongue lapped away at her.

Claire lost herself.  She grinded against her boss's face.  Her
hands stayed on the arms of the chair, and her feet stayed
planted on the floor, but the rest of her body was in motion. 
Mr. Dillon was eating her and Claire was going to enjoy that rare
privilege as much as possible.

 A bell chimed.  Mr. Dillon stopped suddenly.  Claire whimpered
as she felt him move away.  She could hear him wiping his face of
her desire.  Her own seat was soaked.

"You got four wrong," Mr. Dillon said.

The first slap landed on her right breast.  She cried out at the
sudden pain but the second slap was to her face.  With her cheek
still tingling, the third slap struck her open thigh, followed by
a slap to her left breast.  

Claire squirmed in her chair.  The slaps struck her randomly bt
she knew he had a system.  A slapped breast was to distract her
from a nasty slap to her thigh.  A slap to face was to knock the
scream out of her mouth that was rising from the slap to her
nipple.  Every instinct told her to cover herself but Claire did
nothing.  She gripped the arms of the chair as her punishment
continued.  

Mr. Dillon slapped her as hard as he had previously eaten her. 
It was all the same to him.  Punishments and rewards were equally
important.  He didn't flinch from inflicting either.  It made for
an amazing lover but also a relentless punisher.

The bell chimed.  It took Claire a moment to realize the slaps
had stopped.  Her breasts stung.  Her thighs ached.  Her face
burned.  Worse of all, her sex was awfully aroused.  She wanted
to be filled.  She wanted to be taken.  

"Oh my," she said.  "Is the test over?" she asked.

Mr. Dillon snorted.  "That was just the first of four."

She heard a book being opened.  It was a quick sound, as if Mr.
Dillon had held one cover and let the book fall open.

"From the sound alone, Ms. Currie," Mr. Dillon said.  "Tell me if
the spine on this book is broken."

Claire swallowed.  What does a broken spine sound like?  She
didn't care to be honest.  She wanted to be pulled out of the
chair and fucked.  She wanted the sting of her tits to go away. 
She wanted sex and all Mr. Dillon cared about were impossible
skills she may never learn.

"It was broken," Claire answered.  Hell if she knew, but she had
to answer.  

Mr. Dillon made a mark on her right thigh.  Did that mean she was
wrong?  Claire wasn't sure.  It would be nine more attempts
before she found out.

Understanding blossomed within Claire.  She knew one thing.  By
the time today's ordeal was over, she was going to know what a
damn broken spine did sound like.  The slaps and licks will see
to it.

It was an informative day.


The end.

If you enjoyed this story please drop me a line at shonrichards
at yahoo.com.
Or visit my blog at http://erotiterrorist.blogspot.com/


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