I don’t easily panic. But as I was sitting at the computer in the library I could feel myself start. It started about 3pm when I first arrived. I was there with my friend Kate for the first few hours. Our assignment is due in tomorrow. The case study is on gender law, does it matter if it is a man or a woman who committed the alleged assault?
I first noticed the woman who worked there, when Kate and I were in animated discussion about the case study. We were arguing out the case on each side. Prosecution and defence. Granted, we had books everywhere and were talking quite loudly but it was one of the private rooms to the back. It was not our fault the room was warm, the air conditioning was broken so we had jammed the door with a chair to let some air in.
I noticed her though the window to the main floor of the library. She stole my train of thought, my logical mind as I chewed on the lid of my pen and watched her. I was mesmerised, though I could not put my finger on exactly why. There wasn’t technically anything particularly special about her. She had dark hair, but it was not long down her back, nor cropped above her neck. It hinted to a curl, but was pulled back into a normal ponytail. The thin shirt she wore was custom uniform for the library staff, but something about how the deep blue cotton moved looked different on her. My mind drifted briefly to what was lower, what I could not see though the window but was quickly snapped back to focus as Kate launched once more into an argument about why the Lady in the case, was justified in beating her husband with the handle of a brush. Not a hair brush, a floor brush. A wooden floor brush. I argued that the idea of consenting to such a thing, was insanity.
I looked up, startled, as a bang sounded though the room of books dropped. It was her, library lady dropping the pile of books onto the end of our table. “I will remind you girls this is a library. There are rules about noise and you’re currently breaking them.” Her voice was sharp. We both apologised and dropped our voiced for a little. Continuing to work though the case study. I stood and paced the room, going around and around the table. My hands move when I talk, they try to explain to you what my tongue can not get around in words. They try to focus and improve what my mouth says to you.
Around 5.00pm we walked down to the vending machines need the entrance. You are not allowed food up in the main area, but can eat in the small snack area there. As I curled my knees up on the chair in front and we discussed the previous night and who I had seen in the club the rest of our group had gone to. I yawned. 2am was a bad time to stay out till, when I had to get this case study finished today. I nibbled from a bar of chocolate and watched the main desk. That is a lie, I watched that woman behind the main desk. My mind wandered over the old, comfortable jeans and loose t-shirt I had pulled on this morning in my slightly hung over state to study. I hate sitting around when I’m not comfortable. Kate pulled me once more back to earth as she stood from the other side of the table, looking over to where I was focused but did not comment. We headed back up to the room.
By about 7.30pm I was done. I had lost all desire to finish the study, and hand it in. I had no desire to write it up. I would just quit. Of course I wouldn’t actually do that, but this really was the last place I wanted to be. Kate sighed also, she had to catch the next bus to make a connection home. Living closer to the library I debated going home to write up, or staying. I knew I would just crawl into bed if I went home. I forced myself to stay. I had not seen that woman since we ate, she was likely day shift anyway. She would not still be here at this time.
As I watched Kate leave, I scanned the floor we were on. It seemed empty. Moving from the table to the computer at the window I took out my phone, and turned on some music, setting it beside the keyboard on one side, my notes on the other. My fingers danced over the keyboard as I began to type up my piece.
I was sure someone was coming up to me now and again, I was taken over by that feeling of being watched. That sensation that someone else is close, yet as I looked back now and then I still saw no one. In fact, the lights which are motion controlled out of the room, had dimmed. Going back to typing I sang along now and then to the music. I hate writing case studies.
I screamed. I screamed as a hand closed into my hair and spun me around on my chair, lashing out towards the person. My god, it was her. Library woman was there, behind my chair, pulling my hair. As my senses began to flood I realised it didn’t matter if it was her, why was she pulling my hair? As I yelled at her to stop she yanked it hard and leaned over, looking into my face she turned it one way, then the other using my hair to direct it. I tried to stand, but failed as she had the chair pushed against the computer bench, effectively pinning me against it if I wanted to keep possession of my hair. “How difficult is it, to be quiet in a library girl? Do you think you are special? Do you think you are above following our rules?” I could feel the heat of her breath on my cheek as she seemed to hover around my body, moving from one side to the other. I was frozen, bewitched within her spell as I realised she wore plain black trousers, which I could not have seen earlier when I admired the shirt which I could now see clung to her breasts when she leaned over as she was now doing. I could smell the faint hint of perfume, or maybe body spray from that morning on her skin as her fingertips traced over my lips. Wait.. her fingertips are on my lips.
As the chair spun once more I realised my head was being pulled back. My hair had been secured in something, and was behind lifted over the back of the chair and pulled down the back of it by her hands. Rope. She has rope! My logical mind told me to scream. Some other part of me, kept the logical part silent. I am not sure how. “Silly girl, do you need to be taught how to stay quiet? Do you need to practise being quiet in a library?” Confused and shocked, I murmured yes.. yes I did need to be taught that.
As her fingertips moved along my jaw, and down the side of my beck towards my t-shirt where she walked them down over my breast to my nipple, then stopped a mere fraction from it she inquired, “Do you want me to teach you?” I am not sure whether she or I was more surprised when I said yes, yes I did want her to teach me these things. She was gorgeous. If she wanted to teach me something, I was not going to send her on her way.
Her laughter sent a shiver down my spine as she turned, opening a box which had appeared on the table, “I thought so,” she commented, taking a scarf from the box. She wrapped the silk scarf around my wrist, smoothing it over my skin then pulled it down to the chair arm. She tied my wrist to the chair, then repeated this also for my other wrist. I was unsure. Why was this arousing me? A stranger had just tied me to a computer chair, by my wrists, and my hair. I moaned as I remembered my hair, feeling the pinch in the roots where it pulled tight each time I moved.
Just as I was about to argue she stepped back and unbuttoned the top of her shirt. She undid one, two, three buttons and pushed it open a little before taking a pair of scissors from her box. She leaned over the chair, and placed them behind me before moving my knees apart with one of hers. Her hand went straight between my thighs, pressing her knuckles into me. I felt my body jolt towards her hand, press towards her up from the chair. My cheeks burned from the amused laughter which filled the room. With her second hand she undid the button on my jeans and pushed them open. Reaching in she pulled my underwear up sharply and I gasped in shock as the cotton tightened against my clit. Before I realised, she had cut the sides of my underwear at my hips, and pulled it out from between my legs. All I felt was the burn from friction against my lips as I tried to follow the pressure that felt so good. She again, laughed “Wanton little thing, aren’t you?” she commented, more to herself it seemed than me. She leaned in towards me then, pressing her lips to mind. I melted into them, my eyes closed. I didn’t even see my underwear coming towards my mouth till it was pressed between my lips, a further scarf moved over it, and around the back of my head. I was gagged. I was aroused. “That should keep you quiet I would think, don’t you agree?” she asked, untying my wrists now from the chair she kept them knotted, to my hair behind my back and walked me out of the room. I could feel my jeans slipping down from my hips as I tried to walk and keep them up. They were open and it was hopeless as they began to slip over my thighs. She walked me out into the main room and in between the rows and rows of books. We kept walking till a tug stopped me and I was thrust into a row of shelving, my wrists moved in front and towards the ground. I tried to keep my balance as she pulled my hands lower to the ground.
I could feel her warm palms, then the sharp scratch of her nails over my thighs as she pushed my jeans on down past my knees. The only good thing of being bent over like this, was that she could not see the crimson embarrassment in my cheeks. The burning of my skin as I listened to her movements, tasting still from my underwear the physical release of my bodies true response. She took one of the books from the shelf and ran the cover up over my thighs, against my ass. Thud. She landed the book sharply against me, causing me to roll forward on my toes as I tried not to fall head first into the shelf. Oohh I moaned, though it was muffled into my underwear gag. “See, now you want to make noise in a library, but you can’t. You must be quiet it is a library.” She was amused, I could hear it in her tone as she landed the book against my ass, and thighs again and again. I moved though stages of pain, of fear, anger and into acceptance “I will be quiet in the library” chanted though my mind. As the burning took over she seemed to be lost in the dull thud of the book landing against my skin.
Her fingers of one hand moved down over my ass, smoothing over my skin a while later. Her second hand untied the scarf from my head, and wiped over my cheeks, pushing tears from them towards my lips. I licked the moisture from her skin as I felt her nails tease over my clit. Then she kissed me and smiled, “Perhaps some other time, it is time to lock up”. As she untied my wrists and pushed me back towards the room to pack my things.
