Dominated by the Librarian #3: 'Surrender to Obey' (male submission erotica)

B
y Tara Jones
:
‘Surrender to
y
our Desire’
Part #
1
in the “Dom
inated by the Librarian” series

‘Surrender to Please Her’
Part #2
in the “Dom
inated by the Librarian” series

‘Surrender to
Obey
’
Part #3
in the “Dom
inated by the Librarian” series

Dominated by the Librarian
Male submission: Surrender to Obey

by
Tara Jones

“I thought ‘Forbidden Planet’ was located somewhere in Soho?” Dave said as we walked past Regency Park. He gave me a quick curious look. “And I didn’t know that you were into comic books.”

Dave was one of my closest friends. I had known him for more than ten years, ever since I first moved to London. He was a programmer, but less geeky than you could expect, although I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if he had some weird comic book collection or a set of action figures
–
probably
in the original packages, of course!
–
somewhere deep in his wardrobe.

“No, we’re not going to ‘Forbidden Planet’,” I told him when I understood that he had got the names of the two stores mixed up. “This is... another kind of shop.”

I had decided I needed manly company for this mission and I didn’t really want Dave to back out, so I’d been deliberately vague about exactly where I wanted him to accompany me.

Because really, what the hell should I say?

“Oh, and Dave, do you mind following me to some kind of kinky sex shop where I can buy some stuff that this girl I meet... well, she’s actually a librarian and her name is Eleanor... ah, never mind. She‘s really hot and I can’t stop thinking about her and now she has asked me
–
well ordered me, to be honest
–
to buy certain things for our next... date? So, do you want to tag along? No?”

The handwritten note that she had given me last time I had seen her seemed to burn in my pocket.

How on earth had I managed to get myself into this situation?
I pondered for at least the hundredth time. But disobeying was of course not a question.

Still, I felt like I should have worn a grey trench coat, preferably accompanied with a large felt hat pulled down on my head to avoid being recognized, instead of my ordinary boring, but heavily branded, casual fashion clothes that a graphic designer from London was supposed to wear.

My thoughts were interrupted as we reached our destination.

“You are joking right?” Dave said as we stopped in front of the shop. His voice was a perfect blend of awe, genuine surprise, and perhaps a little bit of jealousy.

The outside of shop didn’t look like what I had anticipated. I had thought it would be some sort of Ann Summer shop in stark pink and since it was located in close to Camden market I had indistinctly envisioned lots of black latex and leather in the shop window.

Clearly I was mistaken, because the shop looked more like a sophisticated lawyer office and had a classic designed logotype in strict black and grey that vaguely reassembled an Italian fashion brand.

“Wait a minute...” Dave continued. “Does this have anything with that young girl you are dating at your work...? What’s her name again? Josephine?”

“Well...” I paused.

The fact was that Josephine, the pretty trainer at my office that I had been briefly involved with, had been giving me long, hurt looks for weeks.

Clearly, she had taken it rather personal when I had arrived to the office one day with bite and claw marks decorating my neck from my new lover. My ex-girlfriend Christine hadn’t commented on it at all, but her icy glances had force me to start wearing suspicious-looking turtle neck sweaters to avoid becoming the latest gossip at work.

Luckily however, Josephine had apparently moved on, because earlier this week I had walked into her kissing one of the handsome-looking project leader by the automatic coffee machine at the office. So Josephine’s hurt looks had been replaced by Alpha male challenging stares from the project leader, instead.

Why was my life so complicated?
I wondered and stifled a sigh. It was annoying, but I could live with it.

But I couldn’t tell Dave all that, so I felt slightly guilty when I finally said:

“Yeah, Josephine sent me here.”

“Wow,” Dave said before he recovered. “She’s into that?
BDSM and stuff?
Does she let you tie her up too?”

“Well, what do you
think
we are here for?” I asked rhetorically to avoid answering his question and I smiled a crooked smile that I knew could mean anything.

I didn’t really want to admit that my newfound lover had future plans that I was pretty sure of didn’t involved
her
getting tied up, but there was a certain possibility that the other way around may occur, but you could torture me for hours before I would admit that to Dave.

A part of me hoped that the handwritten note that Eleanor had given me before we parted was a joke. That is was some sort of “I dare you” game that I hadn’t figured out yet.

But what if it was not?
A small voice whispered in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
What do you think she will do to you?

I shook my head, trying to get rid of the naughty thoughts that threatened to invade my mind. To be honest, I felt slightly guilty over that the ideas of what she may want to do held such a promise over me.

“Come on, don’t be such a ninny,” I said and before Dave
–
or myself for that matter!
–
had time to change his mind I pushed brass handle to the glass door open. “I’ll buy you a beer afterwards.”

The windows had been tinted and as I stepped through the doors I suddenly understood why. The shop was large and brightly lit and looked like a combination of a pharmacy and some sort of modern elegant spa, with one large difference: The items that were at display were most certainly not the kind of items that you could find at any pharmacy or spa.

“You owe me more than a beer for this,” Dave muttered behind me.

The shop assistant, a tall woman in her early thirties with auburn hair, was helping a middle-aged couple choose between different kind of sex toys and I heard them discuss the pros and cons of rubber versus silicon like they were discussing which kind of colour they would have on the curtains. The shop assistant gave crisp and professional comments in a way that almost made me look twice to see if they really were still discussing dildos or not. I tried not to blush as the shop assistant finally held up the winning toy for the middle-aged couple to admire, before she wrapped it and the couple left the shop with an air of satisfaction over a “mission accomplished” surrounding them.

Clearly, someone is going to have a nice time on Friday,
I concluded and felt a twang of jealousy over their natural approach to buying sex equipment. Personally I rarely felt awkward in most situations, but this apparently was the exception to the rule.

Dave meanwhile had wisely fled the exhibition of dildos in their glass cabinets and he was inspecting various full body latex suits in different colours. The clothes made me slightly uncomfortable, because there always seemed to be too many holes in them somehow for my imagination.

“Can I help you, sir?” the tall shop assistant asked in her cool and professional tone. Her auburn hair was cut in a neat bob exactly to her cheek and she was dressed in a smart grey office suit that would let her blend in at any business meeting downtown. She was actually quite attractive I realized, with almond shaped eyes and perfectly white teeth.

If I hadn’t been messed up by a certain short and curvy redheaded librarian I would have tried to hit on her and as on cue Dave had started to move closer, pretending to inspect some of the dildos that looked like some sort of futuristic space ships.

“Ah, yes
–
” I started to say, but Dave interrupted me.

“Are these any good?” he asked and pointed at a rubber dildo that seemed to be designed for more than one person somehow. He smiled a roguish smile; the kind of smile that one day surely would get him into trouble.

Despite being slightly geeky, a lot of women seemed to think that Dave was charming in his own way, something that I never really understood. Perhaps it was his Scottish heritage of simply being himself in combination of his rather playful mischievous nature.

This time however, he had clearly met his match.

“Yes, they are quite popular,” the shop assistant replied without even a hint of embarrassment. “They are from the new autumn collection and they were recently rewarded five stars in QX.”

I stifled a smile as the shop assistant mercilessly continued, unaware that she was deflating poor Dave’s attempt to flirt with her with an almost cruel efficiency. “Is it a present for your boyfriend, or is it for your own enjoyment?” she continued professionally.

Dave blanched visibly and it looked like his eyes would fall out of their sockets. I don’t think I had ever seen him taken that aback.

“I-I-I’ll wait outside,” he said finally and threw me a haunted look before he left the shop.

“Oh dear,” the tall shop assistant commented and tilted her head to one side as her gaze followed Dave as he stalked out of the shop without looking back.

“Don’t worry. He’ll get over it,” I assured her.

“So, how may I help you, sir?”

“Well, I ‘m here to buy a present to my girlfriend,” I lied smoothly. “She has... ah, expressed certain desires that she would like to perhaps try to get tied up.”

By me of course,
I wanted to add, just so that there could be no room for misunderstandings, but I decided not to say anything more. It would appear strange if I did.

“Oh, yes, bondage has become increasingly popular,” the shop assistant told me and with a small smile she added, “A lot of girls fantasize about that.”

“I see,” I said neutrally as she guided me over to a glass display cases where various handcuffs in both metal and leather were placed in rows.

“So, your girlfriend...” the shop assistant said and gave me a sideway glance. “Does she have approximately the same diameter of her wrists as you do, by any chance?”

I had a sinking feeling that she had seen straight through me the moment I walked through the door and I could almost see my lies evaporating in front of me.

“As a matter of fact, yes, she does,” I lied on bravely.

I left the shop with a discreet paper bag with various items wrapped in pink paper.

The shop assistant had almost been gleefully amused over my attempt to deceive her and had happily played along, including insisting to wrap all the items in pink paper with large red bows.

“I hate you,” Dave greeted me.

It had started to rain a little and he looked rather miserable in his thin jacket.

“No you don’t,” I replied and smiled at him. “I got her phone number for you.”