The Librarian Was Waiting for Me in the Book Basement

Lucía was a week away from her last exam of the term and was already dreaming of closing her books forever. The late-spring heat had turned her bedroom into an oven, so every afternoon she gathered her notes, crossed the village, and took refuge in the municipal library.

The building was an old eighteenth-century manor house with thick walls and high ceilings. Inside, it had been completely renovated: discreet air-conditioning ducts, adjustable lamps, long tables of dark wood. It smelled of varnish, paper, and something else, something metallic that Lucía had not been able to identify until that week.

The smell was Helena’s perfume, the librarian’s.

Helena had returned to the village a year earlier, after nearly two decades living in Lyon. She was blonde, the same height as Lucía, with her hair always pulled into a bun so tight it looked painful. What impressed Lucía most were her eyes: bluish gray, cold as a knife freshly taken from the drawer. Whenever Lucía came in and said hello, Helena replied with the slightest movement of her head and a smile that never quite became one.

That night, as on so many others, Lucía walked past the desk and headed for the back of the ground floor. There was almost never anyone there, and the lamp on her table cast a warm circle of light over her notes. She felt Helena’s gaze fixed on her back until she sat down, and noticed her pussy growing wet without having done anything, simply from knowing that those gray eyes were undressing her from behind the desk.

***

What Lucía did not know was that the previous Friday, Helena had seen her somewhere else.

It had been at a discreet venue in the nearby city, one of those places without a sign where you entered through a side door and showed an ID at the entrance. Helena had gone with Adriana, a childhood friend who had stayed in the village while Helena left for France. They shared the same taste for Dominance, although each had refined it in her own way.

Adriana had found Lucía at the bar and, with the patient instinct of a huntress, had won her over in less than an hour. When Helena returned with two soft drinks, she found the girl wearing a blindfold and sitting on a low bench while Adriana removed her blouse button by button with the tip of a small dagger.

Helena stayed in the shadows, holding the glasses. Adriana worked slowly, pausing between each button to caress the bare skin with the flat of the blade. Lucía was breathing faster and faster, and beneath the skirt pulled up to mid-thigh, a dark stain showed on her white panties. When the blouse fell, Helena understood that the girl was wearing no bra. Her nipples had hardened like stones, two pink points that Adriana proceeded to pinch between two fingers until she made Lucía moan. She removed Lucía’s belt and left it on a chair. Helena picked it up without Lucía seeing her. When the girl bent over to pull down her pants, the first blow came from the belt, not the crop. It crossed her buttocks with a dry snap, and Lucía flinched, unconsciously arching her ass backward without realizing she was asking for the second. Adriana took the opportunity to slide two fingers into her pussy from the front, check how wet she was, and show them to Helena, glistening, before putting them into Lucía’s own mouth. That night, Lucía never knew that two pairs of hands had tended to her, or that the tongue that later licked her clitoris until she came screaming against the gag had not been Adriana’s.

***

A week later, Lucía tried to concentrate on a topic in commercial law. She couldn’t. At ten that night, she got up and went to the bathroom. When she came out, Helena was in the hallway, washing her hands. Their eyes met in the mirror. Helena did not look away. Lucía did, lowering her head as she passed, feeling the summer dress with straps—the same one she had chosen knowing it left her back bare—sticking to her legs.

She returned to her table and opened the book. The letters shifted before her eyes. Twenty minutes later, Helena passed on her way to the storeroom and, as she went by, made a subtle gesture with two fingers. Come.

She wasn’t going to go. Of course she wasn’t going to go.

Lucía closed the book and followed her.

***

The door at the back led to an enormous room she had never seen before. Row after row of dark wooden shelves rose to the ceiling, packed with books that smelled of ancient dust. Helena was waiting for her in the first aisle with a tablet in her hand.

“Look at what you’ve been requesting, Lucía,” she said in a low voice, showing her the screen.

It was a list. The list of loans associated with her library card. Lucía looked at it and felt the blood drain from her face. The works of the Marquis de Sade. Story of O. Venus in Furs. Three essays on contemporary BDSM practices. Diaries of a Submissive.

“If you like, you can explain this one to me,” Helena said, touching the title by Pauline Réage with her fingernail.

Lucía opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“I’d also tell you that I saw you at that place last Friday,” Helena added, placing one hand on the shelving and reducing the space between their mouths to barely a handspan. “A very dear friend helped me with your blouse. And I licked your pussy until you came like a bitch in heat. Do you remember that tongue? It was mine.”

Lucía felt everything speeding up. Her face, her hands, her breathing, her pussy, which began throbbing hard against the seam of her panties. Helena smelled of that metallic perfume that filled the entire library. Before Lucía could answer, the other woman slid three fingers beneath her dress, moved the fabric of her panties aside, and buried the knuckles of her heart inside her. Lucía moaned with her mouth open against the wooden shelving. Helena withdrew, brought her soaked fingers to her nose, smelled them, and smiled.

“Just like Friday. Follow me.”

***

On the floor between two shelves was a trapdoor with an iron ring. Helena lifted it. A spiral staircase descended into darkness. Lucía went down behind her, gripping the cold handrail while the wooden steps creaked beneath each foot. Halfway down, she felt two hands on her back. The fasteners of her dress gave way with a dry snap, and the fabric fell to her waist. Helena pinched both nipples at once, pulling them backward until a gasp tore from Lucía, then twisted them with calm cruelty while licking her neck from top to bottom.

“Keep going down,” Helena said from below.

When she reached the basement, those same hands finished pulling the dress down over her hips and ordered her to remove her panties. Lucía obeyed, barefoot, in a room whose ceiling she could not see. The stone floor was surprisingly warm. Helena picked up the panties from the floor, ran them over her face, and confirmed with a contemptuous smile that they were soaked from top to bottom.

“Suck them,” she said, pushing them into Lucía’s mouth. “I want you to know what you taste like.”

Lucía obeyed, the cotton fabric soaked with her own juices between her teeth.

“Hands in front.”

Lucía took two steps toward the voice. Her wrists came to rest on something that seemed like a board with two carved semicircles. Helena closed the upper piece with a firm blow. It was a pillory. Lucía was left bent forward, her head and hands immobilized and the rest of her body exposed: her ass raised, her legs spread, her pussy open at the perfect height for the hands of anyone passing behind her.

“You’re trembling,” Helena said. “And soaked. Look at those thighs; you’re sticky all the way to your knees. You’re very indiscreet for someone who studies so much.”

Lucía felt a tongue between her buttocks without warning, licking from her clitoris to her asshole with excruciating slowness. Helena stopped just as Lucía began pushing her ass backward, begging for more. Then she heard footsteps, and something whistled through the air before the first impact. The hazel rod left a line of fire that climbed her spine to her teeth. Lucía cried out, and Helena fitted a leather gag between her lips before the second stroke. There were ten in all. Lucía counted the first five; after that, she lost count. Between strokes, Helena ran two fingers over her pussy and said aloud how the little slut was getting wetter and wetter.

“Look at this,” Helena told her, showing her glistening fingers from the front. “The more I hit you, the wetter you get. You’re exactly what I thought you were.”

What came next took her by surprise. She felt Helena’s hands on her hips and then something thick and cold slowly pushing between her legs. Helena had put on a harness Lucía would never get to see, with a silicone cock of a size that made her eyes open wide when she felt it stretch her pussy. The toy grew thicker toward its base. It entered, lubricated by Lucía’s own juices, centimeter by centimeter, until she moaned against the gag. Helena took her calmly at first, with long, deep thrusts that brushed her depths, and then with increasing roughness, while one hand gripped the loosened bun in her hair and the other delivered quick, loud smacks to the buttocks already marked by the rod.

“That’s it, bitch,” Helena told her between thrusts, her voice barely altered. “Squeeze that pussy, squeeze it well, so I can feel that you’ve been asking me for this for weeks. I read it in your eyes the first day you entered my library. I knew you were a submissive slut. I knew it when you requested those books. I knew it when I saw your ass on Friday. And now I’m proving it to you myself.”

She pulled the cock all the way out, then drove it back in to the hilt, and Lucía screamed against the leather. Helena kept up the pace, harder and harder, her pubic bone striking Lucía’s red buttocks with a wet, fleshy sound that echoed through the basement. With her free hand, she found Lucía’s clitoris underneath and began rubbing it in fast circles without stopping fucking her.

“For your first time in my basement,” Helena said, her breathing barely disturbed, “I’ll let you come. Come on my cock, in front of me, and make it strong.”

And she let her. Lucía came against the wooden pillory with a muffled sound, squeezing her pussy around the toy in long waves, almost pissing herself, a thread of saliva escaping beneath the gag. Helena kept her impaled while the orgasm shook her whole body, never stopping the finger on her swollen clitoris, prolonging it until she sobbed. Then she withdrew slowly, with a wet pop, and Lucía felt a warm stream run down her thighs.

“Look what you’ve left on my floor,” Helena said.

She opened the pillory, removed the gag, and, before anything else, forced Lucía to kneel. She took off the harness, grasped the cock gleaming with juices, and held it in front of her mouth.

“Clean it. With your tongue. All of it.”

Lucía licked it from top to bottom with her eyes closed, tasting herself. When she finished, Helena ran two fingers over her chin, gathered what had dripped there, and put it in her mouth. Then she pulled the dress over Lucía’s head and fastened it up her back like a mother dressing a little girl, without giving her panties: Helena kept them in her trouser pocket.

“You’re going home stained. Without panties. Let it show beneath your skirt when you cross the library. You’re a bitch.”

Lucía nodded.

“By the way, you’re very well-muscled. Do you go to the gym?”

She handed her a white card with a telephone number and one word: Camila.

“Some friends of mine have opened a place. They have a time slot reserved for bisexual or lesbian women, preferably submissives. The two instructors come from the military world. Ask for Camila and show her the card. Now go back to studying.”

***

Lucía let the final exam pass her by. Pass or fail, she no longer cared. She had the whole summer ahead of her.

The next day she went to the gym. It was a discreet place in an industrial park, with no sign facing the street. Behind the counter appeared a woman with blond hair shaved down to the skin, a military-green T-shirt, and cargo pants with many pockets. Her forearms were covered in veins, and her eyes were honey-colored.

“You must be the new recruit,” she said, reading the card. “Come to the office, little slut.”

She whispered the last word in her ear and, as she did, bit her earlobe hard enough to hurt.

In the office, Camila sat on the edge of the desk and left Lucía standing. Without warning, she slipped a hand beneath her skirt and confirmed that she was still wearing no panties.

“Helena warned me. Good girl.”

She buried two fingers to the knuckles, moved them inside with excruciating slowness, withdrew them, and smelled them.

“I imagine Helena told you just enough. If you’re here and you’ve come on her recommendation, you’re submissive. The rules are simple. During the training hour, you’re naked. You may be used by me, by Sabrina—the other instructor—or by any of the submissives you train with. Helena and Adriana may come whenever they like. Your ass remembers Adriana, doesn’t it?”

Lucía lowered her gaze and nodded.

“The group consists only of Mistresses and submissives. You all have similar tastes. If you want to train outside the scheduled hours, you can come then too, but you’ll wear leggings and a green T-shirt like ours. Do you accept?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good girl.”

They filled out her file, she paid the monthly fee, and they gave her her first summons: that same afternoon, orientation at nine.

***

She arrived half an hour early and changed in the locker room. She emerged naked into the gym, her heart beating in her ears and her nipples stiff from the air-conditioning. Camila was waiting for her, leaning against an Olympic bar. Without saying a word, she took Lucía by the chin and kissed her with a calm Lucía had not seen in her, sliding her tongue all the way in and biting her lower lip as she withdrew. With her other hand, she seized one entire breast and pinched the nipple until she drew a moan from her. Then Sabrina appeared, brunette, with light-blue eyes and a more slender body than Camila’s but just as hard. She gave Lucía an almost affectionate smack on one buttock, then crouched and ran her tongue along the cleft of her ass, from bottom to top, with quiet composure.

“What a beautiful backside,” she said, without looking her in the face. “And what a wet little pussy. Welcome.”

Lucía felt like a piece of meat displayed on a counter, and was surprised to discover that she loved the feeling.

The others arrived. Including Lucía, there were six: a very thin redhead, a brunette with tattoos on her ribs, a woman around forty with gray hair cut with a razor, another very young woman with the look of someone who had no idea what she had gotten herself into, and another who seemed to have been training for months, because she greeted the instructors as if she had known them all her life—and in fact, when greeting Camila, she knelt and licked her boots before standing.

“Five kilometers on the treadmill. We’re starting,” Camila barked.

***

The first half hour consisted of warm-ups, weights, and bodyweight sets. Sweat began to shine on their skin, and with it the smell of the gym grew stronger, a thick, sweet odor of pheromones, open pussies, and hot skin. Camila and Sabrina moved among the machines, correcting postures. A hand on the hip to straighten a squat. A finger beneath the chin to raise someone’s gaze. Quick caresses on a breast when someone did an exercise well. A finger entering two centimeters into a pussy and emerging glistening, to check its condition. Each gesture was both a correction and a reward.

At exactly the half-hour mark, Sabrina stopped the stopwatch.

“Five-minute break. Come here.”

The six of them gathered in a circle. Sabrina took six small, silver vibrating bullets from a box, along with a bottle of lubricant. Camila passed one to each of them. Lucía inserted hers slowly, biting her lip to keep quiet, feeling the cold metal disappear inside her hot flesh. Sabrina collected all six remotes and placed them in a wicker basket on a bench.

“Second half hour. Same program. If I make a mistake, I’m sorry. If you make mistakes, you’ll be sorry.”

***

Minor mistakes were punished with a crop stroke across the upper back. Serious mistakes received a stroke that left a mark. But successes were rewarded too. Camila or Sabrina would take a remote from the basket and activate the bullet of whoever had performed the exercise correctly. Two seconds at first, four seconds later, eight seconds when they had been going for twenty minutes.

Lucía was corrected three times. All three corrections were gentle. She was rewarded six times. On the sixth, the bullet vibrated for twelve straight seconds while she was holding a plank, her elbows trembling, and she almost fell to the floor. She felt her clitoris swelling against the vibrating casing and her pussy beginning to squeeze it inside without permission.

“Hold on, recruit,” Camila said, crouching beside her and sliding two fingers underneath to check how wet she was. “Don’t come yet. I’ll tell you when. The first slut to come without permission gets the full crop.”

Lucía clenched her teeth and held on. The bullet switched off just as she was about to explode.

The final set was a complete circuit. Five stations, two minutes at each. When it was over, Camila raised her hand.

“Now.”

All six bullets activated at once, at maximum power. Lucía let herself fall onto the mats, legs spread and hands clutching her hair. The orgasm rose from her feet, tore through her entire body, and left her screaming against the shoulder of the thin redhead who had collapsed beside her. Some girls came silently, others screamed, and one burst out laughing. Lucía did not know which group she had joined because she stopped hearing herself. When she finally opened her eyes, her thighs were soaked to the knees and Sabrina was standing over her, arms crossed and wearing a half-smile.

“Good recruit.”

***

The showers were communal and long. The instructors showered with them. Sabrina soaped Lucía from head to toe, lingering over her breasts and the cleft of her ass, pushing two soapy fingers into her pussy to “clean her inside,” while Camila approached from behind, bit the nape of her neck, and pinched her nipples beneath the hot stream. One of the other submissives—the thin redhead—knelt in front of Lucía on the wet tiles, spread her legs with her hands, and buried her tongue in Lucía’s clitoris. She licked hungrily, sucked, pushed her tongue inside, then climbed back up. Camila seized Lucía’s hair from behind and pulled her head back, forcing her to look at the ceiling while she came again, mouth open, with a long moan that bounced off the tiles. She left the gym with weak legs, wet hair, a throbbing pussy, and a smile too big for her face.

Outside, her phone vibrated in her purse. It was a message with no greeting and no signature.

“Country house. Friday at eight. Three days. Bring little clothing.”

Lucía read the message again. Who did Helena think she was? That Lucía was her submissive? She smiled at the screen and, before putting away her phone, wrote a single word in reply.

Yes, Mistress.