John Friday - Chained, whipped librarians

Letha Gerard sat naked on a stool in the bathroom of her suburban condominium. She spread her long shapely legs and slid her hands down from the taut plane of her trim belly to the softly padded dome of her pussy mound.

Slender fingers teased through a broad wedge of blonde cunt hair. With the fingers of one hand, she parted the puffed outer lips of her juicy pink pussy slit.

With the long middle finger of the other hand, she teased the moist bud of her tingling clit. Letha climaxed with her fingertip.

"Oh, God," she moaned, still trembling. "I need a big cock!"

Letha was thirty-two, widowed three years before by a motorcycle accident that took the life of her sexy and extremely well-hung husband. She had never fully recovered from that loss, and no one knew what tormenting need there was in her simmering pussy.

Letha had gone to work at a branch library, where she was strictly supervised by a prudish bitch with a rigidly old-fashioned moral code.

No makeup was allowed, and only "sensible" shoes – cloddish things with thick stubby heels. Nothing was supposed to distract male library patrons from studious pursuits. Letha had even been scolded for smiling at a man checking out books.

She'd have told the bitchy head librarian to take her job and shove it, but work, was hard to find. So Letha suffered and played the role of frigid prude during working hours and maintained an air of rigid respectability whenever anyone who might report misconduct was around.

It hadn't been too difficult at first. Crushed by the death of her loving husband, Letha found comfort retreating into a cocoon of sexless propriety. But now her period of mourning was over.

Letha grinned lewdly and plunged her long middle finger deep into her cunt. She groaned as her cunt muscles shivered and squirmed, squeezing her finger in a pliant vise of moist flesh.

She fucked the probing finger in and out and whirled her thumb on her distended clit nub, cumming again after just a few quick strokes. Her anxious pussy was seething, strained by a need for the thrilling hot sex she'd done without for too long.

But Letha still needed her job, at least until she could find one where the rules were less restrictive.

Relaxed by the tremors of two self-induced orgasms, Letha grinned. She was pleased with the plan she'd worked out. It was so daring that a prim and proper librarian would never be suspected.

Letha turned on the hot lather machine her husband had used. Watching its spout gush creamy foam made her squirm, it looked so much like a jetting cock. She cupped the flowing hot lather in her left hand and smeared it all over the blonde bushy mound of her cunt. The hot cream made her pussy lips quiver with desire. Letha was so horny that she had to take several deep breaths to steady her hand. Then she took a razor and shaved her seething cunt.

Purring softly, she put on a black leotard. It hugged her lithe body and sleek curves like a second skin. Letha adjusted the snug-fitting top so that her firm, sharp-peaked tits thrust proudly nude through twin round openings she'd cut and hemmed for them.

An open V she'd cut in the crotch of the slinky black suit exposed the smooth hump of her newly shaved pussy. Letha smiled and opened a bottle of the clear gummy liquid actors use to put on false beards and mustaches.

She brushed the sticky goo all over her denuded pussy mound, not minding the brief chill or mild sting of the wet glue. Then she carefully put on a furry black muff shaped to match the wedge of her own missing cunt hair.

Letha had cut and shaped the pussy toupee from the black mink collar of a coat found on sale in a charity thrift shop. It was an essential part of her disguise. Who would expect a mousy blonde librarian to have shimmering cunt hair blacker than coal?

Next Letha put on a long black wig that covered her own tightly coiled hair. Soft bangs fell over bet forehead and a raven cascade swept down to the small of her back. She brushed the wig until it sheened like a crow's wing.

Tinted contact lenses made her pale-brown eyes look vibrant and sky-blue. Letha's anxious smile curved wryly.

She hardly recognized her reflection in the bathroom mirror. A black sequin-trimmed bandit's mask with slanted cat-like eyeholes covered the upper half of her face, disguising it completely.

Letha next slipped on long black cavalier boots that reached up over her knees. Their slender spike heels added four inches to her already-impressive height.

Then she shrouded herself in a flowing black silk cape and put on a long blood-red false fingernails. She picked up a black leather satchel and slipped unseen out of her back door to vanish into the dark of the night.

Careful to say out of the moonlight, Letha moved silently toward her destination two blocks away. She thought more about poor Jim Carver with each stealthy step she took.

In the last few weeks he'd checked out several books and medical journals – everything the library had on the subject of frigid women. At other times Letha had waited on Jim's stiff and tight-lipped wife, Ellen, who read nothing but religious books.

It wasn't hard for an attentive librarian to figure out what was wrong in their marriage. Nor was it hard for a daringly restless widow to come up with a cure unlike anything likely to be found on public library shelves.

Letha crept up to the Carvers' side door. Silent as a shadow, she went to work with a lockpick, using techniques she had learned by reading a police handbook on burglary. The cheap lock yielded quickly, just as the book said it would.

She took a deep breath of the cold night air and slipped quietly inside. Using a penlight, Letha found the hall and then the Carvers' bedroom. Her heart beat like a trip-hammer. The forbidden thrill of it made her pussy throb with heat.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Letha peeked in and saw the couple sleeping soundly in twin beds set on opposite sides of the room. The situation was as she'd expected.

Letha went to the wife's bed first and quietly opened her satchel. She took out two lengths of black nylon cord and carefully bound one around each of the woman's wrists. Then she looped the loose ends around the bedposts and slowly pulled the slumbering woman's arms above her head.

Ellen Carver stirred slightly while Letha was cinching the knots tight, but did not wake up.

Very cautiously, she pulled away the bedcovers. Mrs. Carver shivered and stirred again, Letha held her breath until the woman settled again. Then she took out two more lengths of cord and bound the woman's ankles to posts at the foot of the bed.

Letha couldn't help noticing that Ellen Carver had a luscious ripe body, but she'd hidden her voluptuous curves under a baggy flannel nightgown. Letha vowed to take care of that later.

Letha wadded up a ball of silky black cloth, gently eased open the woman's slack jaw and then quickly stuffed in the gag. Ellen's lush body stiffened and swelled with a choked-off scream. She started in shock and tried to sit up, straining the cords around her wrists and ankles. Her dark eyes flared wide with a look of stark terror.

Letha placed a strap across the woman's gaping mouth and tied it behind her neck to keep the gag in place. Ellen's face was whiter than the sheet under her head. Muffled grunts of fury came from her gagged mouth.

"Shhh! Don't be frightened," Letha said. "I'm here to help you." She kept her voice soft and low and made it far more breathy than her normal tone.

Mrs. Carver could not believe that a fearsome specter masked and cloaked all in black meant no harm. Waking up bound and gagged was the most terrifying experience of her whole life. Her body trembled and shivered.