The Dark Library Read online

  Nude, she wrapped the towel around her head to partly dry off her hair, then wrapped it around her chest and body as she went to the sink. She brushed out her hair, dried it, then donned her robe and went back to her room, locking the door at the bottom of the stairs.

  Once upstairs, as was her habit, she tossed off the robe, and finished brushing and styling her hair in the large mirror over one of the dressers. She didn't really do a lot to her hair. It was a soft brown, and cut off above her shoulders. It was perfectly straight, and full, even silky, curling in ever so slightly above her shoulders and under her jaw.

  She decided to put just a trace of lipstick on, and pulled on her glasses to do it. She was far sighted, which meant she had to wear glasses when reading or working up close. Her glasses were stylish, as befitted her ambitions, half frames, with the top being a dark brown. they made her look, she thought, intelligent, thoughtful, and perhaps, she hoped, even a little posh. Her big brown eyes looked soft but intelligent behind them, and her small nose seemed even more delicate with the glasses perched upon it.

  She ran her finger along her lips, then through them and along her tongue, idly sucking on it, sliding her finger in and out of her mouth. She was still somewhat aroused from her experience downstairs. The sudden thought hit her that with almost no one living there, she could try to walk around naked in the still night hours, and no one would likely spot her. Her nipples tingled at the thought.

  The thought of doing naughty things always aroused her, though, of course, she never actually did them. She was far too controlled in her day to day life to do foolish things which might humiliate her, and damage her reputation.

  She licked her lips as she picked up the plastic bottle of skin lotion, feeling the prickle in her nipples becoming more pronounced. She carried it across to the bed and then turned and jumped back onto it, nude, then propped herself up amidst all the pillows back there and flipped through the television channels.

  There was a movie with Antonio Banderas on and she licked her lips appreciatively, then turned the lid of the plastic bottle and squirted a thick, creamy substance onto her chest between her breasts. She put down the bottle and dropped her hands to her chest, then filled them with the cream and spread them slowly over her chest.

  Her nipples began to tingle now as her breasts throbbed. Her fingers caressed her sensitive flesh, and began to knead it lightly as she watched Banderas. She imagined him atop her, thrusting, thrusting ,thrusting forcefully, with her entirely naked – naked – beneath him, his eyes feasting on her.

  She let her slippery hands slide down her body, caressing and coating her lower chest and belly, then her abdomen. Her right hand slid between her legs as she drew her knees up and spread them wide, and her fingers pushed into the mouth of her sex, rubbing and pushing, twisting and turning as her breathing became more ragged.

  She eased a finger into the tight center of her sex, dipping it lightly in and out. She was slippery, and the tactile sensation was delicious and erotic as skin stroked across skin. She added a second finger, then a third, moaning softly as she let the fingers of her other hand stroke across her throbbing clit.

  She groaned and arched back against the wall of pillows behind her. She put her feet flat on the bed, feeling the tautness of the tendons and muscles in her strain as she spread her raised knees wide apart. Her fingers caressed her breasts and pussy, and began to dip within, stroking and caressing the soft flesh at the mouth of her sex.

  Her hands moved slowly, softly, up and down her body as she lay her head back. Images flitted past her eyes, erotic images of men, and women. Her hands stroked up across her breasts and she squeezed them lightly, then more strongly. She gripped her stiff nipples between thumbs and forefingers and rolled and stroked them, then pinched, hard, harder, gasping, wincing, pulling them slowly outward, stretching them before letting them go.

  Her right hand slid back down her taut belly, her fingers framing her sex, rubbing up and down on either side. Then she let those fingers spread her labia and brought her other hand down, fingers dipping inside again, lightly, then pushing more deeply in and out.

  Her breathing quickened, and she picked up the bottle. She didn't really need skin softener, but this was slippery, slick, and all natural. You could swallow the stuff if you could stand the taste. It was a soft gel as she squirted it into her hand, but cool. She brought her hand down between her legs, spreading it against the opening of her pussy, then pushing her fingers in deeper, groaning, her mind still searching through erotic fantasies and images.

  Then it settled on one, and her pulse picked up.

  She was in the washroom, naked, putting on makeup. She was... beautiful, and leaned over the counter, putting lipstick on, her lips pursed as the door opened. In strode workmen from up the hall. They were rough hewn men, broad of shoulder, with powerful chests. They all looked dangerous, with flinty eyes and stubble on their faces. They wore tank tops, their shoulders and arms muscled and bare as they moved slowly into the room, staring at her, wanting her, licking their lips excitedly to see her.

  She was bent over, exposed to them from both sides as she concentrated on her lips, her glasses only allowing her to see close-up objects so that they were invisible to her as they moved quietly behind her.

  She bent forward further, spreading her legs for balance, and they stared down at her, their tight, dirty jeans now bulging in front.

  She was wearing high heels, for some reason, stilettos, though she didn't actually own a pair. And she had a black ribbon around her throat, or perhaps a choker. She straightened up, unaware of the three men standing silently behind her, and picked up a comb to draw it through her hair. Her breasts rose and tautened as her arms were raised above and behind her head, and the men stared at them in the mirror, filled with lust, with hunger and need as she unconsciously posed for them.

  One of them peeled his tank top up and off, revealing a heavily muscled chest. It was not the chest of a weightlifter, not filled with big, bulging muscles, but rather, of a very strong man, with a light sprinkling of hair. In her fantasy, something alerted her, and she turned, taking off the glasses, gasping, eyes widening in shock as she realized they were there.

  “Sorry,” one said with a smile. “We thought the place was empty and came to wash up.”

  “Just to wash up,” the next said, removing his shirt to reveal a second powerful chest.

  She covered herself with her arms, gaping at them, filled with a strange, dark sense of hunger, her pulse pounding in her throat as they looked at her and she looked back. Her eyes were drawn downward and she swallowed as she felt her fingers twitching, wanting to touch their chests, wanting to slide through the hair and over the muscled surfaces.

  And then, helplessly, she felt her hands move away from herself, felt a wild thrill of heat as she exposed herself to their eyes. Her hands reached out to the two closest men, one apiece, sliding across their chests as she moaned in excitement.

  Yet there was a dark thrill of fear, too, for they were rough, common men, dirty men, powerfully built men who might do anything to her! One moved forward, forcing her back against the counter. His hands slid around her. His hands squeezed her buttocks and he kissed her. She jerked her mouth away but one of hands gripped her soft hair behind her neck, jerking her head up and back, crushing her lips with his.

  His tongue invaded her mouth, sliding over hers, and she felt his hardness pressing against her belly as he picked her up and dropped her on the counter. Her hands were still excitedly stroking thei chest of both men, but she felt her right hand pulled away, slid down by the man there, down to his groin to caress him through his tight jeans.

  She shuddered at the feel of him, so thick and hard and long! The first man grasped her legs, jerking them up and apart, and she moaned as the other two moved in on either side, to watch. But each grabbed a leg, pulling it wide, holding it easily. The second man was undoing his pants, and pulling himself out, and her body crackled with elect
ricity as he guided her fingers around his thick shaft.

  *

  Hannah raised her head, her right hand reaching out for the bottle. Breathing rapidly now she drew it down between her legs. It had a rounded top, and she pressed it firmly against her sex, turning and twisting it, groaning as the pressure against her grew. In her dream, she imagined the man pushing his cock against her, rubbing it up and down, then slowly sinking it into her. And as she did, she slowly forced the thick bottle through the taut, aching lips of her sex.

  She gasped at the ache, for the bottle was quite thick, but she needed the ache, the pain, for some reason. It grounded her. And it made the pleasure so much hotter and wilder by comparison. She groaned as she slowly worked the thick bottle through her slick opening, her legs spasming a little as she tried to pull them wider. She lay her head back, moaning, half the bottle inside her now.

  She could use only one hand on it, now, and so the other slid up onto her breast, squeezing and needing it.

  With her head back, she was looking up at the roof, and even the roof behind her. She was certainly not looking at the big flat screen at the foot of the bed. If she had, she would have seen the scene change abruptly. First there was a red flashing light around its edge, then the letters “incoming call” appeared across the screen. A few seconds later, the screen changed and showed a head and shoulders shot of a man about ten years her senior.

  He was had a slender face, and boyishly cut hair with bangs spilling untidily across his forehead. He wore a crisp, expensive suit and tie, and had an impatient look on his face which quickly changed to surprise, then amusement as he watched what was laid out before him. His blue eyes flickered down to the thick bottle Hannah was slowly pushing deeper into her sex, and narrowed with interest and hunger.

  He made no sound as he watched the thick bottle slide in, then out, in, and out, pushing and twisting, deeper and deeper as Hannah gasped with excitement, heat, and effort. He could not see her face, but only her breasts and body, but what he could see was more than sufficient to keep his attention.

  *

  The first man pushed himself into her as she squirmed on the counter, her bare buttocks sliding across the damp surface. He was soon deep inside her, her belly straining to accommodate his massive cock as he thrust in and out, moving slowly at first due to his size, but leaning into her and moving faster and faster as she gasped and moaned in helpless pain and pleasure. She was slumped back on the counter, her bottom at the edge as his big cock slid into her, and then he leaned in and kissed her again, crushing her lips once more as his hips ground against her.

  Then, abruptly, she was in the shower, standing bent forward, forced face-first against the cool, shining tiles, her legs spread. One of the other men was behind her, the one with long hair past his shoulders. He was nude, as nude as she was, and he growled as he jerked back on her hips and pushed himself into her from behind.

  *

  Hannah gasped as she quickly rolled over on the bed, raising her bottom high, knees spread wide. She jammed her face into the pillows, reaching beneath her with both hands. One gripped the bottle, thrusting it in and out, while the other fingered her swollen, burning clit. She ground her hips back, visualizing the workman taking her from behind, his hands on her breasts, his hips slapping against her buttocks his big cock thrusting deep into her belly.

  God, he was deep! She forced the bottle in hard, not caring that it hurt. The pain only made her more aroused as she rolled her hips and whimpered excitedly.

  She forced herself up, gasping, legs spread. In her mind she was on the third man, riding his cock, riding up and down as her breasts hung over his face and his hands reached for them. The bottle was beneath her, and she rode it, shuddering, trembling as she sank down hard. When she was really excited she could get the entire bottle inside her. It was over ten inches, but she had most of it in now, and as she jammed herself down upon it and squeezed her breasts she felt the orgasm approaching and then threw her face forward, burying it against the pillows as she came, as she cried out again and again, grinding and bucking and jerking against the bed, against the bottle, against her fingers, as seething waves of sexual heat and pleasure rolled over her.

  Slowly, her body stopped its desperate movements, and went still, gasping, moaning. Hannah slowly half rolled over, groaning as the heaviness in her lower belly, at the strained feeling in her pussy. She rolled onto her back, at last, laying still, legs sprawled untidily out to either side, chest heaving.

  “Well, that was quite an interesting introduction, Miss Quinn.”

  Hannah's eyes abruptly widened. She hadn't hear that?! Had she?!

  She jerked upright, staring towards the stairs, but no one was there, no one was in the room. And then her eyes lit on the television, and the man there who could almost be looking at her.

  “My name is Robert Carling,” he said. “I called to welcome you to Carling Manor and to discuss your ideas for the library.”

  Chapter Two

  Hannah stared at the image in disbelief, jaw open, frozen, a sudden shocking suspicion filling her mind, one which she was too horrified to accept.

  “I suppose Patrick failed to familiarize you with the videophones which are set up around the manor?” he said. “Well, that's all right. I'm sure you'll come to understand how they work soon. In the interim, yes, I can see you quite clearly, so you might want to, er, cover yourself somewhat if you're feeling modest.”

  She was so stunned, so mortified she couldn't accept it. Hannah could only stare at the screen in disbelief.

  “Not that I mind, really. You have quite a beautiful body. It's good to know you're responsible enough to keep a good exercise regime, what with you being occupied in a rather sedentary occupation. I respect people who take care of their bodies.”

  Hannah screamed and threw herself out of bed, tumbling to the floor, out of sight of the TV, then scrambled on hands and knees around behind it, eyes wide, face turning beet red as the full enormity of what had happened sank into her horrified mind. He hadn't merely seen her naked! Oh no, he had seen her masturbating! With a bottle! The bottle which was still jammed into her pussy all the way to the base!

  She knelt on the floor and put her hands over her burning face, too shocked by the intensity of the realization to cope with it. Denial swept through her, but she knew it was useless. Even if he had come in at the last minute he'd seen her riding the bottle, seen her jamming herself down on it, seen and heard her orgasm!!

  The only thought in her head then was to get away! She had to run! She ha to grab her things and get out before he came near her, before she had to meet him!

  “Miss Quinn? Are you there? We still have a lot to discuss,” he said, ridiculously calmly.

  How could she turn the bloody thing off!? There wasn't even a cord to pull! But as she put her hands on the top corner she realized it could be swiveled, and so she slowly turned it, keeping right in behind, turned it away from the bed and towards the fireplace. Then she grabbed the control box and turned it off.

  The fucking bottle was still inside her!

  Frantically, she pulled it free, throwing it furiously against the wall as she grabbed for clothes. She would leave her wardrobe behind! She simply had to get out before he saw her! She would abandon the job and head home, and never answer the phone again without being certain it wasn't him! Before she saw him! She jumped into the clothes she'd worn up on the train, grabbed her purse, shoved her feet into the pumps, and ran for the door

  She half fell down the stairs, yanked open the door – and screamed, falling back onto the stairs as she saw him standing there, looking mildly irritated.

  “Miss Quinn,” he said, impatiently. “I don't appreciate being hung up on.”

  She turned and scrambled back up the stairs, horrified, but there was no way out, no way to hide, and he came up behind her. She moved as far as the far wall and then stopped, grabbing the window sill, refusing to turn around.

  “Bloody
women,” he said with a world-weary sigh. “Miss Quinn, we all have naked bodies. Yours is exceptionally attractive as compared to most, so you really have nothing to be ashamed of there. As for your masturbation – .”

  Hannah cringed at the word.

  “Well, virtually everyone masturbates. Just as everyone goes to the bathroom. I really never could understand the dreadful embarrassment around the subject. Mind you, I've never been exactly normal.”

  “P-please go away!” she said in a horribly squeaky voice.

  She was going to burst into tears in a moment!

  “I masturbate. Would you like to watch me?”

  “No!” she gasped.

  “No? Well, men are rather more voyeuristic than women.”

  “You could have warned me!”

  “Of what? Patrick was supposed to familiarize you with the videophones.”

  “You saw... that... and kept watching!” she gulped, fighting back tears, still refusing to look around.

  “Yes, well, I must admit, I am a male. But I don't think it's incumbent upon me to apologize for that. I don't know any males who would have turned away from a sight like that. Perhaps the pope would have, or a gay man. No one else.”

  “I-I need to leave now,” she said shakily.

  “Yes, I rather suspected that was your intent. I won't have it. I've already waited long enough to get that library in shape and I'm not putting it off for another month or two just because you're gotten all girlishly embarrassed that I've accidentally seen your naughty bits.”

  Hannah felt a sudden ferocious anger. How dare he make light of what had happened!? The filthy pervert! Staring at her like that!

  Her anger spun her around, her hand coming up, finger stabbing at him.

  “Now you're mad at me for not immediately ducking away the moment I saw your lovely body,” he said, “for doing what was natural for me to do even as you did what was natural for you to do. I was told you were a very grounded young women with an intelligent head on your shoulders. So stop crying about spilled milk that's already been cleared away and let's discuss your role here.”