The Dark Library (11 page)

Hannah had no clothes. He'd left them in the
'dungeon', and so she had to borrow a robe and scurry through the
halls and back to her own little room.

At least she still had her socks!

She locked herself inside for a bit, then
anxiously slipped down and into the big washroom to take a shower.
After her time in the dungeon and then... with Carling... she
definitely needed one. But being naked like that made her anxious,
and she was relieved to get back into her room and lock the door
behind her.

Showering might have washed off sweat and
dirt but it certainly couldn't wash away the memory of that...
bizarre sexual interlude. She alternated between bushing with
embarrassment and flushing with excitement at the dark and perverse
things she'd experienced.

She'd taken his cock right down his throat!
That was a shocking and wickedly exciting thing! And it had been so
easy! She'd only done it once, granted, and it had been
involuntary, but really, it wasn't that difficult! She was sure she
could do it again.

Being sodomized, well, she was rather rueful
about that, but it hadn't really hurt, and there was something
darkly, nastily exciting about the thought. Bastard! He'd taken her
in every orifice, and not asked permission either! And she'd begged
him to fuck her!

Wow!

His sex slave!? Of all the gall! She was no
one's sex slave! The very notion was ludicrous! Well, it was also
horribly arousing, but in a fantasy eroticism sort of way, not in a
`Please whip me, master while I grovel before you' sort of way.

She rubbed her backside resentfully. It
wasn't sore, but it certainly had been. Imagine him spanking her
like that!

Her eyes flicked to the butt-plug sitting on
the floor where she'd tossed it. He'd shoved it back into her
before sending her off, telling her she should wear it from now on
so she was ready whenever he wanted to bend her over and take her
there. What colossal gall!

Not that he'd been serious, or at least, she
didn't think he was, really. But still, even having the nerve to
say that, in his pompous, arrogant, confident tone, was
unbelievable.

She had been down in the dungeons and then in
his bed for half the day! Her stomach rumbled hungrily, for she'd
missed dinner, yet a part of her was afraid to show her face. Could
any of the others have known, or heard?

What a slut they would think her!

And yet she couldn't honestly regret any of
it. It not only overshadowed any sexual experiences he'd ever had
in her life it overshadowed ALL the sexual experiences of her life
COMBINED!

When she was a little old lady of ninety two
she'd still remember it.

But then the presumption of that struck her,
and she hesitated. The presumption was, of course, that she'd never
again have that kind of wild, kinky, thrilling sexual experience,
that it was unique, once in a lifetime, and that now she'd return
to her dull, largely sexless existence save for her bottle and
fingers. That was a depressing thought.

She shook her head. There were plenty of
attractive men out there! She could find them if she only looked!
And unlike Carling they wouldn't shackle her to the bed!

She was surprised, though, at the feeling
that thought provoked: disappointment.

Did she want to be shackled to the bed? Did
she like the idea of being... mastered, as it were? Well, she had,
certainly. But of course, not as a matter of routine.

But she wouldn't mind doing it again, she
knew.

* * *

Over the next several days she continued to
catalog the collection. She was left in peace to do it now. At
first she was relieved, and then irritated by Carling's absence.
Had he gotten bored with the little commoner girl now that he'd
gotten what he wanted? Was he out trying to seduce some other cheap
little commoner? What happened to her being his little sex slave
anyway? Did he think he didn't need to do anything more for that to
happen?

Maybe he was fucking the maids. Her face
flushed a little at the thought. She had come back to her room the
next day to find the robe – his robe – which she'd left flung
across the table, gone. Her trash can was emptied, the little
bathroom cleaned – and the butt-plug she'd left on the floor
sitting by the sink.

Her face had almost burned off at the thought
one of the maids must have come in and found it – and the robe!
What they must think of her!

Had it been her imagination or had the blonde
one smirked at her when they'd passed in the hall?

Her resentment leant her another thought. She
knew where his bedroom was now. That was probably where he'd placed
that video call to, and the TV there probably contained the
recording of what he'd seen.

She would certainly not go at night, but
during the day the room ought to be empty. She could go in, check
the TV, and erase it if it contained the video she suspected it
did. Imagine the disaster of that got out!

She wasn't quite sure how to get there,
though, given that she had to pass through the central part of the
house where she might well run into one of the servants. Since she
had no business beyond the kitchen they would probably ask her
where she was going.

But there was a way past them. She could go
down the passage into the dungeon, walk through it to the basement,
then through there to come up the other stairway he'd used which
had opened right near his door.

It was her right, after all. She had never
given any permission for that sort of video to be taken – nor would
she! So, telling herself that, Hannah let herself into the passage
and went back down to the dungeon. Once there she looked around
very carefully for the light switches. Perhaps to preserve the
authenticity of the place there was no sign of a light switch, but
she found them in place, right where they would normally be
expected to be, but behind false stone panels which swung out.

Turning on the lights gave the room a much
different, less dangerous atmosphere, and she couldn't help looking
at the cells and remembering what had happened there, especially
how Carling had taken her, while she was shackled and naked, how
she had embarrassed herself with her reactions and acted like a
total slut.

The memory was tinged with embarrassment, but
also a raw, dark sexual heat, and she actually went to the door and
put her hand on the bars, looking in, imagining herself there naked
again, shackled, his prisoner...

But then, with a snort, she turned out the
lights and continued through the dungeon, taking the stairs up to
the basement, taking the same route he had carried her along –
naked and shackled, she thought – and making her way up the stairs
to the corridor where his bedroom was found. Here she began to get
nervous, anxiously looking up and down the hall, fearful of
discovery. How would she explain her location?

She opened the door slowly, peered in, then
slipped inside and closed it behind with a sigh of relief. Once
inside, she glanced at the bed, remembering other things, then
searched for the control box for the TV and electronics. She opened
the side table and, unsurprisingly, found handcuffs, straps, a
dildo, a vibrator, and other... things which made her blush
slightly. But there was no control box.

She hurried around to the other side, and
found more sex toys and bondage gear, but again no box, and then
she spotted it on a chair across the room, and hurried over with a
curse of relief.

The TV was left in the up position, turned to
face that direction, so she muttered at her own stupidity as she
turned it on, and then looked to see if she could find her
video.

The difference, however, was that this TV was
in regular use, and had apparently recorded dozens of
conversations. And more.

The first one she pressed popped up as
considerably more than a conversation. It was rather like the
recording he'd made of her masturbation session, in fact, except he
was recording his own bed. And he wasn't masturbating.

No, it was the maid, what was her name,
Molly, the blonde. She lay spreadeagled tied to the corners much as
Hannah had been the other day. Hannah blushed to see the nude young
woman spread out like that, and her thumb hovered over moving on,
but the sight of Carling stepping into view, or at least, she
assumed it was him, made her pause. She only saw him from the chest
down as he climbed into the bed near the girl's head.

But it certainly looked like him. Then he
gripped her hair and jerked her head back – and how she remembered
that – and leaned in, sliding his cock into the girl's open mouth.
As Hannah watched, she saw Carling move around so his back was to
the headboard, his knees spread wide as he slid his cock deep into
the girl's throat, angling her head up and back as he drove himself
into her to the balls.

The blonde choked and gagged a little,
twisting against the shackles, but didn't appear to be making any
serious effort to pull free. Instead she was writhing and twisting
her hips, perhaps because of the vibrator stuffed into her pussy.
From the angle of the camera, Hannah could actually see the bulge
in her throat as Carling's cock slid into it.

She felt a hot little quiver between her legs
thinking about how she had taken his cock down her throat that one
time. She wished she had a dildo or something she could practice
on. The idea of doing that again was quite exciting. She felt
jealous, watching how easy the blonde took his cock.

Slut, she thought as she watched the girl
with more than a hint of jealousy.

She turned it off, trying the next one. This
proved to be an uninteresting conversation with a man she didn't
know. As did the next call. The one after was he and Patrick
discussing dinner. Then came another home porn video, this time
featuring him and both the maids. Now they were both handcuffed as
he sat up and back against the backrest. Their mouths were in his
groin sucking and licking at him as he stroked their heads and
hair.

“Pervert,” she muttered.

And the girls, of course, were worse, but
what could you expect of that sort?

She jumped ahead to the final video, and
gasped to see herself. It wasn't her private masturbation session,
however, but what had just happened in this room. He had recorded
it! She gaped at the sight of herself spreadeagled naked, at
herself writhing at his touch. She also felt a hot thrum of
excitement as she saw herself, as she heard herself, as she
remembered what they'd done.

She deleted that video, then checked the one
before. It was the blonde again, lithe and nude, and not tied up,
she noted. Though she did have leather restraints around her
wrists, and a collar around her throat. There was no sign of
Carling, at first, but then he appeared, nude from the waist up,
holding some sort of little crop or quirt.

“Down,” he ordered.

The girl dropped her face and chest to the
bed, but kept her bottom raised high, and Hannah noted she had what
looked to be dildos in both holes.

I shouldn’t be watching this, she told
herself, blushing. It's as much of an invasion of privacy as him
looking at me.

Of course, he had looked at her, and told her
afterward that it was only natural that he not look away.

The girl shifted position to all fours,
spread her legs, then turned and lay back, drawing her knees up and
back, spreading them wide, all at Carling's instruction – like a
trained seal, she thought snidely.

He wasn't slow to snap the quirt across her
bottom, either, or in one instance, across her breast when the girl
was slow. The sight was both disgusting and strangely fascinating
to some dark side of her. Watching the naked girl perform, watching
Carling taunting her, caressing her, calling her his slut, made her
pussy throb with the remembrance of how he had done similar things
to her.

But I'm not some cheap little commoner maid
he can dally with, she thought angrily, turning off the thing.

She tried others, but as she kept moving back
down the list it was obvious that she had gone past where her own
video ought to have been. So it wasn't here. So where would it
likely be?!

She looked at the desk and the computer on
it, then turned that on. It required a password, much to her
annoyance, but then she saw a white card propped up next to the
keyboard with password written on it. Perfect, she thought!

She typed in the password, and waited for the
machine to finish booting up, then began looking through the
folders in search of videos. And that was what she was doing when
he walked in and caught her.

“Doing a little hacking, Quinn?” he asked
dryly.

Hannah yelped and leapt to her feet, whirling
to stare at him guitily.

“I don't believe breaking into my computer
was a part of your cataloguing job,” he said.

“I uhm, I didn't break in. The password was
right there,” she gulped.

He shook his head with a faint smile. “Not
the password. It's actually a trap word meant to set off an alarm
for any snoops who want to look at my computer.”

She blushed and then glared defensively. “I
was only trying to get the video of me! Which you have no right to
keep!”

“You mean the video of your little
masturbation session?” he asked innocently.

Her blush deepened. “Yes!”

“Ah, he said. “I deleted that.”

“I... you... how am I supposed to believe
that!?”

“Because I said it,” he replied. “Are you
questioning my word, little library girl?”

She glowered. “I found the video of us on
your TV!”

He shrugged. “I sometimes record my little
games on the bed. Some of my partners enjoy looking at it
afterward, but I'll delete it if you like.”