Nathan Silvers: Lash the librarian!

"Well, I guess that's all right, Mrs. Benson," Annabelle Jackson said hesitantly. She looked around the library as if somebody might overhear her. It was quiet, late Friday afternoon and there weren't many people around.

"Oh, call me Hilary, please," the woman on the other end of the phone cooed. "It's so good of you to do this for me. You've got the address? Good. Sexual Repression in the Nineteenth Century, I need it for a paper I'm doing."

"I'll get it for you," Annabelle said. "I can take it out on my ticket."

She put the phone down vaguely irritated. Hilary Benson was a woman in her early forties, Annabelle guessed, who had started coming into the library only a few weeks before and made a special point of being attentive to Annabelle. Hilary was a sophisticated woman, and Annabelle found her interesting and the attention irresistible.

So she wasn't sure why she should feel as she did when Hilary phoned and asked if she could possibly deliver a book to her after work. It was really against library policy, but there was no danger.

She turned to walk back to the counter and almost bumped into a tall young man.

"Sorry," she said and swung aside.

"No problem," he replied, and his eyes ran up and down Annabelle's body.

She blushed and hurried to the safety of her desk. No matter how many men stared at her and paid her compliments, Annabelle still blushed and hated it. Men were all the same, she had decided, they all wanted to get her into bed. It was true that she had wonderful, almost ash-blonde, hair falling to her shoulder blades.

It was also true that she had a soft, beautiful face and luscious figure with large round tits pressed out against the front of even the conservative, dark suits she wore to work. She looked up, saw the young man staring at her, blushed and stamped the book hard. She was saving herself for Mister Right, a tall, handsome man who would protect her from everything and always treat her with respect.

She found the house easily and was impressed, which almost removed the last of her irritation. It was large, stone built and in its own grounds. So Hilary hadn't been lying when she laughed about how her husband had made a killing in real estate.

Hilary opened the door almost as Annabelle rang the bell.

"Oh, how wonderful," she gushed, "do come in."

Annabelle was curious to see the house and didn't need much urging.

"Sit down, have a drink," Hilary said, waving at a stool against the large wooden table.

"Er, well thank you, but I don't drink often," Annabelle said, "and I must be getting along." She glanced around the room and wondered if she'd ever live like this. Of course she would, when her prince came along.

"Oh, you must stay to dinner," Hilary said, "my husband is dying to meet you, after what I've told him. Now, gin and tonic?"

"Er…" Annabelle said, but she was already sitting down at the table in a sort of a dream as Hilary poured her the drink. She watched Hilary, her assured movements, her grace as she paraded around. Annabelle wanted to look as good as she did when she was forty, for Hilary had a strong, handsome face, with a straight nose, clear brown eyes and high cheek bones. Her brown hair surrounded her face in a slightly ragged cut that complimented her perfectly, and even her casual skirt and while blouse seemed to increase the perfection of her figure.

The door opened and a young teenager came in.

"Ah, my daughter, Zoe," Hilary said. "Zoe, this is Annabelle."

"Hi," the girl said rather sulkily. She had something of her mother's beauty, though her eyes were darker and more sensual, and her mouth fuller, her red lips pouting with each move she made. For some reason she was dressed in a sexy little maid's outfit, with white apron, little white cap and a tight dress that showed her tits perfectly and had a hem that stopped well short of her knees. Below the skirt, black mesh stockings outlined a pair of curvaceous legs down to the high-heeled pumps she wore.

"I must explain," Hilary said to the rather startled Annabelle. "Zoe was naughty today, so she has to serve us all dinner as a punishment."

"Oh," Annabelle said, still ill at ease.

She could understand Zoe's sulkiness now as the girl got out the silverware and began to lay the table in the other room. Hilary urged her to talk on, but something was bothering Annabelle and she even made another attempt to leave, but it was brushed off by Hilary.

Then the front door opened and there was the sound of men's laughter. That made Annabelle even more nervous and she was scarlet with embarrassment as four of them came in. Three of them were in business suits. The first one was a tall man in his forties and Hilary went up to him and kissed him before she introduced him.

"All of you," she said, "this is Annabelle, our librarian. Annabelle this is Antony, my husband. This is Patrick, a business associate, and his friend, Kirby, and this is Lee, another business friend of Antony's."

Annabelle almost ran out of the room as the introductions were made. Not only was it terribly embarrassing, but she realized that Kirby was the young man she had almost bumped into in the library and who had stared at her. He grinned as he shook her hand, his casual jacket swinging open.

"Well," Hilary said, "dinner."

Annabelle didn't say much as the meal progressed, even though Hilary and Kirby tried their best to bring her out. Zoe served them all, still looking sulky and aggressive, but she didn't make any mistakes.

It was over the coffee that Annabelle got the shock.

"Now, clear the table, Zoe," Hilary said.

"No," Zoe said, "clear it your fuckin' self."

She flounced off into the kitchen.

"Come back here, Zoe," Hilary said, "or you know what will happen."

"Fuck off," Zoe said from the kitchen. "I had to serve, not clean up your crap."

"Antony," Hilary said, "she's not going to learn."

"I know," he said and swung to his feet. "Patrick, get the bar in."

Annabelle sat horrified as Antony went into the kitchen. She heard the sound of a slap and Zoe screamed once, before yelling and fighting at her father. It didn't last long. Very soon she was being hustled in by him, struggling, her maid's uniform already torn slightly at the neck, showing the top of her little white slip.

Annabelle wanted to sink into the carpet. She tried to move, but Lee and Kirby had moved their chairs closer and were blocking her way out. She stared at the table top, but had to look up as she heard Patrick coming back.

He was pushing a piece of apparatus with a padded metal bar across it at about waist height. But that wasn't what gave it its menace. There were straps and metal rings all over it, particularly around the base. It looked as if someone could be tied to it in almost any position that was wanted.

"Good," Hilary said. "Now, Patrick, would you like to administer the punishment?"

"Sure," he said and went back into the other room. Suddenly his grey business suit had terrible menace in it and Annabelle found herself trembling.

"I really must…" she started.

"Shut up, you're getting very boring," Hilary said.

Annabelle felt as if she was going to break into teats. She tried to get up, but suddenly Kirby and Lee had their hands on her arms.

"Sit down," Kirby said, "and watch. This is for you too, if you don't behave."

Annabelle broke out into a sweat. She had no real idea of what he meant, and she was in such a state of shock that she sat down, trembling from head to toe.

Patrick came back and Annabelle's horror got worse. He carried a metal-studded black collar with a long chain attached. In his other hand was a thin wooden rod, about four feet long and so thin it trembled as his hand moved.