The High Cost of Used Books

by [email protected]

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© Copyright 1997 - [email protected] - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; fpov; denial; bookstore; boots; whip; domme; cons; X

WARNING! This story is only for adults over the age of 18 and contains Strong Sexual Content. It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS only, and the author does not in any way condone similar behavior. If you are under the age of 18 or 21 and reside in a state, country, or planet that prohibits such behavior, stop reading immediately!!

Archiving permitted, but only if you include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author by e-mail.

The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.

However, individual readers may make single copies of the story for their own non-commercial use.


Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to me. I do want to hear from you!

The day had not gone according to plan. I was supposed to have gone riding with my friends, but instead had to fill in at our used bookstore. Worse, it was now snowing heavily outside at the rate of two inches an hour, with no letup in sight.

My family had owned the used bookstore for years, and it gave my family a pretty good living and had sent me to college. My college education had been paid for by romance novels, comics, science fiction, and porn.

I had long since ceased to be embarrassed by porn since it was the most profitable thing that we carried. Sitting behind the counter I had a good view of most of the store, but I had a special view of the adult section, which was composed of paperback books, glossy magazines, and videotapes.

There are two kinds of customers in the adult section: buyers and lookers. The buyers could either be nervous or relaxed, but they would at least purchase something. The lookers thought that we were some kind of library where they could just look at every magazine for free and not buy anything.

So there I was, alone in the store except for one guy in the adult section. He was the nervous quiet type, a looker that I can't ever recall buying anything. He was glancing through yet another magazine thinking that I was watching the weather outside instead of watching him. Except that this time I noticed that he was holding the magazine in one hand while his other hand was inside his pants, jerking himself off.

Exiting from behind the counter, I entered the adult section. He was so engrossed in the magazine he didn't hear my silent approach.

"Just what do you think that you're doing?" I exclaimed in my loudest possible voice.

"Um, ahh, looking at the magazine," he answered, with his hand still down his pants.

"Come here, wacko, let me see what you're reading," I ordered.

He showed me one of the hardcore magazines, which was composed of pictures of dominatrices clad in black leather outfits tying up naked men and women. I had long since ceased to be interested in things like that, but it had provided for some interesting reading and some college papers.

"Now you're going to come behind the counter with me while I decide what to do with you," I yelled.

"Yes, mistress," he answered.

So he thought that I was his mistress did he? Grabbing both him and the magazine, I pulled him from the adult section through the swinging doors and around the counter. Behind the counter was the cash register plus some of the collectibles for the serious book lover.

Ordinarily I would have just thrown him out and told him never to return. But he seemed so meek and with the storm outside I knew that we weren't going to have more customers that day.

"On your knees, worm," I ordered as I held the magazine in one hand and my riding crop in the other.

"Yes, Mistress," he answered, sinking to the floor in front of me.

"I'm tired of seeing you come in here and treating this place like a free library. You either buy this magazine like a man, or you never come in again. Understand? How could you never buy something?" I demanded.

"My wife would never permit it," he answered.

"Your wife would never permit it," I replied, mocking his tone, "Well, we're not a free adult library, you either buy something or never show up here again. Unless..." I began to wonder out loud, "You serve me the way they do in the magazine."

"How?" he stammered.

Arranging myself on the stool I lifted my skirt and showed him my black leather riding boots that I had so lovingly cleaned and polished anticipating a day of riding.

"Lick my boots," I order.

He was attracted to the gleaming black leather and gradually started to lean over and lick the black leather. Intensely aroused myself, I pulled him between my legs and watched as he continued to lick at the leather. I tapped him on the shoulder with my riding crop.

"I'll bet that this is the way you've always wanted to be, isn't it," I began, "Kneeling at the feet of some beautiful woman, licking at her leather boots. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Mistress," he answered.

"Now pull those pants down and let's look at that prick of yours," I ordered.

He complied and undid his pants, then pulled the elastic of his underpants down. He had a huge prick, which was erect and stiff. I'd never seen a prick like that, and was sure that his wife wasted the guy's best asset.

"Don't you come till I command you, slave," I sternly ordered.

I reached over and got a regular adult magazine that I was about to price, and threw it on the floor in front of him. It opened to a picture of a naked girl with her legs spread and her pussy exposed.

"Don't you dare soil a magazine of dominants with your come," I told him, "If you must jerk off, do it with a mag of sluts."

He grasped his swollen prick in his hand and I watched as he proceeded to climax all over the opened magazine. His come squirted in strong bursts on the magazine, sticking to the color pages and reflecting the neon lighting of the shop.

I had never watched a man come like that before, and I was getting more aroused every second. Then it suddenly occurred to me what to do next.

"Get over here, slave," I ordered, "And bend over this footstool."

Once in position, I got up off my chair and circled him, holding the riding crop. I tried to look menacing just like the dominants in the magazines that I had read.

"For getting off slave, I'm going to punish that butt of yours. Normally I'd use this crop on my horse, but you'll do for a substitute."

I began to strike his behind with the crop. First I'd use the leather thong on the end, then the main rod. I'd alternate between one buttock, then the other. With each stroke, he moaned quietly.

"I'll just bet that you're getting off on this, aren't you?" I demanded.

"Yes, Mistress."

I grabbed a plastic glove and placed it on my free hand, then reached between his legs. I found that again his prick was swollen with desire. Pulling at the swollen prick with one hand, I beat his butt with the riding crop in the other. I'd never been so sexually aroused myself before, and knew that I was wet between my legs.

"Don't you come till I order, slave." I cried.

"Yes, Mistress," he shakily replied.

With each stroke of the crop I felt that his prick was getting harder and stronger. For a wimp, he was hung like a horse. I wanted his prick nice and hard before I'd let him shoot his load.

"That's better," I ordered, "Just wait till now."

With my gloved hand around his prick I gasped as his swollen cock squirted come all over the plastic footstool. His cock pulsed with each climax, sending jets of milky fluid onto the drab floor.

"Oh, oh," he moaned, grateful for the release of his sexual tension.

"That's good slave. Next time we'll do better. Now lick my boots for a while and properly thank your mistress for the punishment that you deserve."

"Yes, Mistress," he quickly answered.

I let him lick and kiss my boots again, getting really turned on watching him make love to the leather. I'd heard about the fetish crowd, but never believed that it could be real.

Looking outside, I suddenly realized that it was dark by now and there was a ton of snow outside. I watched as a plow drove by, and realized that it was time to go home.

I stood up and went to the supplies cabinet. I motioned him over, and ordered him to mop up the mess he'd made with his come. He complied instantly, even though he had to clean it with his pants hanging down around his ankles. Every step that he took was hobbled, making him take baby steps.

When he was done and everything stowed away, I stood in front of him with the riding crop, menacing him once again.

"All right, slave, pull your pants up. I don't imagine that you're going to get any use of that cock of yours tonight. It's about time that you finally served a woman who understands your real needs."

"Yes, Mistress," he answered as he pulled up his pants and closed his belt.

"Now get your coat and get out of here. And the next time that I see you here, you better be man enough to buy an adult magazine and bring it home. Or I'll take this riding crop and really beat the shit out of you."

"Yes, Mistress."

I watched as he put on his coat and virtually fled my store. It took a few moments to get rid of the come soaked magazine and tidy up so that my parents wouldn't know that anything strange had occurred.

I grabbed the hardcore magazine that he had been reading and placed it in my handbag. That would make for some fascinating reading tonight. I was wet just thinking about leather-clad women. And maybe I'd become one.

The End 


Author’s Notes: Used Books was the very first story that I wrote when going online. I’ve always been a fan of used bookstores, especially when they also sell used porn. Support your local used bookstore today and buy something.

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