"Yes, it's a weekend training scheme."
"For me, Mr. Pincher?" Gillian Smith gasped, peering at her boss a little suspiciously through her glasses. "Why me?"
"We decided that you were, uh, you were, ready for new ideas," Joe finished lamely, looking out the open window. "Some people have their eyes on you, you know, and so they thought that it would be a good idea for you to attend this seminar for training." He shuffled some papers on his desk. "I assume you can go this weekend?"
"Well, yes," Gillian said uncertainly, pushing her straight blonde hair back out of her eyes. "I suppose so."
"There's a flight at five," Joe said, handing Gillian a ticket. "A car will meet you at the airport."
"Yes, Mr. Pincher. Thank you," Gillian said, and then left his office, feeling very strange about the whole thing.
Joe Pincher couldn't have recommended her; he didn't like her at all. But then, he was a real creep, the sort of boss who licked the boots of his boss whenever the area manager appeared to check the library. And the last time Mr. Harper came in, Joe had stood close to Gillian as she worked, telling Mr. Harper what a bad employee she was. And now this.
Gillian felt uneasy as she got back to work, putting books back on the shelves.
Of course, one of the reasons Joe hated her was that she wouldn't date him. Gillian shivered at the thought of the times he'd trapped her in an aisle and tried to feel her tits.
Other men had approached Gillian because she was beautiful, but she deliberately dressed as dowdily as she could and never used make up.
"Gillian," Joe said, coming up behind her, "Since you'll be leaving early on Friday, you can stay late tonight and do my shift. I have a date."
"But, Mr. Pincher, that's not fair! I did..."
"Do it, unless you want me to fire you and save them the trouble of paying for your training weekend," he sneered nastily at Gillian.
Gillian nodded her head and wept a little when Joe had gone.
That Friday night, very nervous, Gillian caught the flight, a small commuter one, then she was met at the airport by a young, fresh-faced, brunette-haired girl.
"Hi," the brunette said, "I'm Alda; I'm taking you to the seminar."
"Oh, thanks," Gillian said and sat beside her, clutching her purse.
"I'm Dean's girl Friday," Alda said with a giggle, as she drove out of the airport.
"Dean Harper; I do everything for him." She giggled again and Gillian saw that the girl's already short skirt was riding up her shapely thighs as she shifted around in the seat. And the top of her blouse was open just a little more than it should have been. Gillian would never have allowed her cleavage to show.
Soon they were on a small winding road, and Gillian got nervous all over again.
"Where is this place?" she asked.
"Oh, a special hotel," Alda replied, giggling again. "Out of the way; quiet, you know, so that people can concentrate on what's going on. If you know what I mean."
Gillian didn't. "What's this all about?"
"Oh, it's a weekend for people who show promise," Alda said airily.
"But I've always been told how bad I am."
"I think Dean makes his own decisions," Alda said, driving up to a small hotel that was surrounded by tall Douglas firs.
Alda led Gillian in and showed her to a nice clean room on the second floor.
"I'll leave you to tidy up," she said, running her eyes over Gillian's plain dress. "They'll call you in about half an hour."
"Thank you." Gillian sat on the bed, then stared out the window.
She had a shower and changed; though she put on a dress that was just as sensible as the one she had traveled in. It was shapeless and the hem hung to well below her knees. She sat on the bed and waited, her stomach turning over with nervousness.
The phone rang and she grabbed it in a second. "Yes?"
"Dinner," said a man's voice. "Come to the bottom of the stairs and I'll meet you there."
"Yes," Gillian said breathlessly. She got up and grabbed her purse.
She recognized Dean Harper at once. He looked so handsome and commanding. His tall frame, broad shoulders, and dark hair seemed to loom over her, as he politely escorted her to the dining room. She shivered, as his cold gray eyes ran over her as she walked into the room.
The dining room was small. There was one table set and only Alda and another woman were at it.
"More people arriving later," Dean said as they sat down. "This is Rose Hudson; she's on the committee with me."
"Hello," Gillian said nervously, avoiding the other woman's eyes.
Rose was a stringy, good-looking blonde, whose hair had obviously been dyed. It was teased out around her face, lending a strangely sexual air to her whole look.
Gillian was almost too tense to eat. Both Dean and Rose asked her questions and she did her best to answer them, but she was constantly blushing and wishing she could hide behind her straight blonde hair. She played with it constantly, and even Rose remarked on how lovely it was.
"Genuine blonde hair," she whispered, "you're very lucky."
Gillian blushed and drank a little more wine.
Dean filled her glass again. "To make you relax."
Later, she refused a brandy and sat waiting for what was going to happen.
"Well," Dean said, "let's head for the conference room."
He led the way, and Gillian found herself between Rose and Alda. It was almost comforting to have two women there to protect her.
The hotel was fairly modern, but the conference room was done in a medieval style. There were suits of armor, and along the wall were swords and chains and whips. Along one wall, there was a cage, and a strange piece of apparatus that Gillian didn't dare go and look at. It had a frame and straps hanging all over it.
"Still in working condition," Rose chuckled, running her hand over it. "A torture rack. You see, you can hang the victim by their hands and feet, and turn them any way you want. Then stretch them." She smiled. "But we're much more civilized now."
"Yes," Gillian said, and then waited for them to sit down around the large sturdy table that also looked as if it had come out of the middle ages.
"I expect you're wondering why we brought you here," Dean said, standing close to Gillian and looking her right in the eyes.
"Yes, sir," Gillian said, looking down at the floor.
"Sometimes I have employees that haven't realized their full potential. I like to help them realize it." He stared at Gillian and waited.
"Ah, yes," Gillian gasped. "I didn't know. Mr. Pincher said that..."
"Mr. Pincher wants you out; you know why?"
"No," Gillian said, shivering.
"Because you wouldn't fuck him."
Gillian stared and her head jerked.
"You don't think you're good enough for that rat-faced little jerk, do you?" Dean asked.
Gillian didn't know what was going on. Rose was sitting down finally; crossing her legs in the long, tight, white leather dress she wore. The slit at the side showed more of her thigh than Gillian thought decent.
"Well, we're gonna show you that you're a lot better than that," Dean said. "We're gonna teach you all about sex and that. You didn't think this was a library discussion, did you?"
He grinned as Gillian went white and backed away, clutching her purse harder. "I-I don't like sex, Mr. Harper."
"Dean," he corrected.
"Please, Mr. Harper, no! I don't want to! I'm sorry; I can't do that!"
"If you don't, I'll let Joe fire you."
That twisted a knot in Gillian's guts. Her parents would kill her if she lost this job, and she didn't know what she'd do then. Even at twenty, she didn't know how to look after herself. But she couldn't do anything as depraved as have sex, or whatever it was they wanted her to do.
"No, please, don't do this to me!" She sobbed, and then broke into tears.
"So, take your dress off," Dean said, leaning on the table. "You've got one of the best figures I've ever seen, and you hide it."
"No, no!" Gillian shrieked and turned, rushing for the door in a blind panic. Dean had locked it and it was a massive, thick door that wasn't going to open, for all her terrified wrenching. "Help, help!"
"Don't bother." Dean leaned against the wall close to her. "The staff here know what to do. You can scream as much as you like. That's why we came here."
"Help me!" Gillian screamed, tearing at the door in helpless terror. Sweat broke out all over her body. "Please, no, don't do it to me! Please!"
"Take your dress off," he said, as if it was something Gillian did every day in front of strangers.
"No, please!" Gillian dropped to her knees and clutched at his legs. "Please, no, please, not this, please! I can't have sex; it disgusts me, I hate it! Please!"
"I'll tell you what will happen if you don't take it off."
"No, please, how can you want me?" Gillian wept, her glasses fogged up with the force of her tears. "I'm ugly; look at me!"
Dean laughed, and so did Rose.
"By the end of this weekend, I'll show you just what you've got, honey," Dean said, "but to show you, we're gonna have to use it."
"I'm a virgin!" Gillian screamed, playing her last card.
"Oh, good; that'll be nice," Dean said, then chuckled again. He slid his hand under Gillian's chin, pulling her face up to his. "Honey, I hate to do this, but I'll use anything I have to make you see sense. Anything!"
He smiled, and his cold eyes went bright with lust.
"He's lying," Rose said, strolling up beside Gillian. "He loves it when you fight and have to be disciplined." She smiled and leaned in closer, the waft of her perfume making Gillian's head swim. "And so do I; I love disciplining girls, love it!"
She smiled even more brightly, and Gillian screamed.
For in Rose's hand was a whip, a curling, single-tailed whip. It seemed even more menacing, now that Rose wore white leather gloves that vanished into the sleeves of her leather dress.
"So, take your dress off," Rose said. "It's your last chance."
"No!" Gillian screamed, losing her grip on herself. She tried to run, but Dean had her arms at once and twisted her around, forcing her toward the table. "No, please, no!"
Gillian wept, trying to escape his grip, but it was like iron and before she knew it, she was pushed face down on the tabletop. It was highly polished and so strong that it didn't shake at all, as she struggled. Dean had hold of her arm and pressed her down with it, twisted up into the small of her back.
"Please, no, let me go home!" Gillian wept. Then she screamed, because somebody had grabbed one of her ankles.
"You want Joe to fire you?" Dean laughed.
"Please, no, let me go!" Gillian wailed, as a metal manacle was clicked shut around her ankle. "Let me go!"
Alda was pulling on the chain; wrapping it around one of the stout table legs, stretching Gillian's ankle out.
"Help, please, help!" Gillian screeched, but the chain was wrapped around the thick wooden support and Alda walked around it, holding another chain and manacle on the end of it.
Gillian's screams rang around the room, but it was useless. Her other ankle was bound, and then the terror really started. Her legs were forced wide open as the chain went around another table leg on her other side. Gillian wasn't used to doing the splits, and her tendons were soon screaming in pain, as her legs were forced open as wide as they would go. But it was the humiliation that got her more than the pain, the horror of being forced and bound over the table. She wriggled as hard as she could, but Dean had a strong hold on her arm and anyway, the struggle with the leg irons had already worn through her tights, and the thick steel was rubbing her skin painfully.
Suddenly, she jerked even harder, for Alda had gotten a grip on her left hand.
"No, you can't, you can't!" she begged.
Alda pulled Gillian's arm out, and clipped another chain and manacle around her wrist. As Gillian screamed and begged, Alda pulled the chain around a table leg on the other side of the table, and stretched the weeping, sobbing Gillian out until her hand nearly reached right across the polished surface. After that, it was an easy task for Dean to twist her right arm back, give it to Alda, and have Gillian's wrist clipped and pulled out until she was painfully stretched across the table; her muscles pulled to the limit, her whole body aching. Her hips were pressed into the table edge, her ass stuck out, but her long skirt still covered it and went down her legs.
"Please, what are you going to do?" she wept, twisting around until she gasped and froze at what she saw.
Alda was taking her clothes off, opening the buttons of her blouse while she ran her free hand down the front of Dean's pants. And there was an enormous bulge when she pulled her blouse out of her waistband, showing the little lacy cups of her bra.
"Please, Dean, can I have one of those boys? Come on, be fair; you're getting her."
She opened the belt of her skirt and unzipped it, sliding it down her legs, as she played with his cock through his pants.
He laughed and ran his hands over her bra, feeling her soft swelling tits. "Sure, honey, but you fuck him here; you know that."
"Sure, baby; I know that," Alda purred, and stepped out of her skirt, dropping it as she paraded her lovely slim figure in nothing but her bra, panties, shoes, and white stockings that were held up by lacy garter straps.
Gillian was so disgusted she turned her head away.
"Key, baby," Alda whispered.
Dean gave her the key and Alda walked out of the room.
Gillian felt Rose's hands running over the backs of her stretched legs, pulling up her dress and slip.
"No, please, don't do that! Please, don't!" she begged, but Rose ignored her and went on pulling the flower-patterned dress up the backs of Gillian's legs, revealing her panty hose and the curves of her thighs.
Finally, Rose tossed the dress over Gillian's ass, and then slid the slip after it, revealing her ass and panties under her tights. Gillian moaned, and her head sank to the table. Her glasses came off.
"Fucking Jesus!" Rose gasped. "She's even better than you said."
She ran her hand over Gillian's ass, and the bound librarian trembled and jerked.
"Would I lie?" Dean laughed. He sat up on the table across from Gillian and reached over, picking up her glasses. "Shit, look at these; they get worse every time I look at them."
He handed the glasses to Rose and the tall blonde examined them.
"You ought to be ashamed," she said, prodding Gillian with her foot. "You look like you're fifty. We'll soon change that. Call Marty, Dean; he can do these in no time."
"What are you doing?" Gillian wailed, as Dean picked up the phone.
"You'll see," Rose said.
"Yeah, Marty, hi," Dean said into the phone. "Yeah, new pair, by tomorrow lunchtime? I knew you could. Yeah, pick 'em up; you wanna see who gets them. Yeah, we're at the usual." He laughed and put the phone down. "Now, you just tell us when you want to take that dress off."
Gillian twisted, staring at Rose as the horrible woman stood behind her, with the whip curled in her hand. The long thin leather tail swung up in the air; flicking over her round body, cracking with a gut-wrenching sound close to her ear.
"No, please, what do you want? Please, please!"
"We want you to take your dress off," Dean said.
"No, not that--I can't!" Gillian screamed.
Dean laughed, and suddenly the curling whip lashed across Gillian's asscheeks. She jerked, screaming as her whole body went tense. Her wrists and ankles wrenched against the metal irons holding them.
"Aaaghghhh! Please!" Gillian begged.
"Take your dress off."
"No, no, I can't, I--aaghhh!" The whip cut more red agony into Gillian's ass as she heaved on the tabletop.
The door opened, and Alda came back in, escorting a young boy of about eighteen, who looked stunned. She pulled him to the table and leaned back on it, spreading her thighs, stroking her panty crotch.
"Take your pants off, big boy," she cooed.
The boy was dressed in a cook's uniform, and he undressed very fast, staring at Gillian's bound body. His white pants were down his legs in no time, as Gillian screamed to the beat of another savage lashing across her ass. Instantly, Alda grabbed the boy's cock through his briefs and caressed it, stroking the rock-hard boner.
"Take my panties off," she purred, closing her thighs as his fumbling fingers reached for her panty tops.
"Take that dress off," Dean said softly, leaning in closer to the sobbing, screaming Gillian.
"No, please! I can't do that, I can't, please--aagghhh! Let me go, please!" Gillian screamed.
"If I do, Joe'll fire you," Dean said.
"Please, stop, please, I can't do that, I--aagghhh!" Gillian collapsed across the tabletop. But Dean grabbed her blonde hair and pulled her head up, turning her so that she could see Alda and the young cook. Alda now had his pants off and his eight inches of cock were thrusting out, rock hard with lust, as he ran his eyes over Alda's luscious figure. She was opening her bra and thrusting her tits at him, and then she kicked her panties off.
"Now, stick that big cock up my pussy!" she gasped, leaning back on the tabletop; her thighs open, her pussy hair already damp with her juices. She fondled her large tits, pinching her nipples, as he gasped and pulled her ass to the edge of the table.
He took his cock and slid it into Alda's hot wet cunt. It went right in, surging to the top of her pussy with no effort at all. The boy gasped and fucked his cock into Alda's cunt harder, pulling her closer to him with each ramming fuck.
"Ohhhh, wow! Your cunt's so tight! Ohhhh, fuck!" He rammed his throbbing fucker harder into Alda's pussy.
"Come on, big boy, gimme it all!" Alda purred, her dark hair falling across the tabletop as she leaned back, her legs tight around his waist.
"Isn't that good to see." Dean grinned at Gillian. "You take your dress off, and you can get fucked, too."
"Aaaaghhh! Noooo!" Gillian wailed, as the whip cut her ass again. Already she could feel that her tights were tearing under the assault, ripping as the whip lashed into her throbbing ass. "Please, not that, please!"
Gillian screamed. She knew she couldn't take pain like this for long. She shrieked as the tail of the whip lashed her ass again.
"Noooo, please!" she begged, jerking on the tabletop, her straight blonde hair tossing all over the place in her frantic pain. She could see the faint traces of blood on her wrists where the iron manacles had chafed her skin. The whip flogged her ass once more. "Yes, I'll do it!" she screamed. "I'll take it off!"
"Good," Dean said, then swung off the table.
The whip stopped, and Gillian lay there, sobbing, horrified that she'd given in to their horrible demands.
The boy fucking Alda worked his stiff boner in her cunt.
"Oh noooo!" he roared. "I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"