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Message-ID: <43381asstr$1058123405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Meme Mispelt <meem17@mwmw.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} <*> the folio : one : special collections (Meme Misspelt and Absinthia Vixen) M+F+ mild ws mild femdom
Date: Sun, 13 Jul 2003 15:10:05 -0400
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DISCLAIMER:
This is a work of adult fiction, and is not intended for minors, any 
persons likely to be offended by explicit erotic content, or for 
distribution in any area where possession may violate laws or community 
standards.  
The authors retains copyright in this work; you are hereby granted license
to download, print and/or archive this work for personal use only. 
License is not granted to archive, or publish this work by any means in 
any publicly available archive, or physical form, except ASSTR, without
the authors' prior consent.  Please just ask first, okay?
The authors love feedback, criticism and even hate
mail: meem17@mwpottedmeatmw.com
Take out the potted meat before e-mailing, else yr mail will spoil!
more stories: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/meme_misspelt/www

Story codes: M+F+ mild ws mild femdom

Note: This is a complete story, intended to stand on its own.
Loosely related stories may or may not follow.

the folio : one : special collections
by Meme Misspelt and Absinthia Vixen (edited by a.)


"May I help you?" The librarian smiled broadly up at Matt.

He cleared his throat. He had difficulty talking to extremely attractive 
women. "I'm doing a paper on outsider art. That is -- "

She nodded briskly. Her green-tinted grey eyes were framed severely by 
the dark plastic of her glasses. "That'd be in 704. We don't have much, 
but I'll show you what we do have. If you'll follow me?"

Her skirt was cornflower blue. Its length was modest, but the way it 
hugged her hips wasn't. Her brown hair hung in a single long braid, 
bisecting the back of her white blouse. At first Matt tried not to stare 
at her ass as she walked, but he found the sway of her hips too 
compelling.

She led him to the back wall, then up three flight of stairs. Matt was a 
little ashamed of himself, but he hung back a few steps behind her to 
improve his vantage point. The clatter of her heels on the steps echoed 
harshly from the hard flat walls of the stairwell. Her legs were 
muscular under her dark blue fishnet tights. 

The fourth floor seemed little used; the lights overhead were dim and 
flickery. The musty smell of old knowledge hung in the air. Matt 
followed the librarian through a wide aisleway with ranks of shelves on 
either side, then deep into the stacks, down an aisle between two 
shelves, to the last bookcase, next to the wall. She indicated one of 
the middle shelves. Her nails were well-manicured but cut quite short. 
They matched the hue of her skirt almost exactly. "Most of it is here, 
but there are some oversized volumes on the bottom shelf." She bent over 
to point one out, and her butt nearly touched the front of Matt's pants. 
He was already half-hard. "Perhaps you might find this folio of 
particular interest."

The aisle was wide enough for three people to stand abreast, but still 
she brushed against him as she stood. "Good luck with your research," 
she said as she left him.

Matt dutifully looked at the regular volumes first. Two were general 
surveys, too vague to be useful to him. One focused exclusively on the 
work of patients in mental hospitals. Another looked more promising. He 
set it aside on an empty stretch of shelf and crouched to investigate 
the oversized editions.

The book the librarian had recommended had a spine unlabelled except for 
a nearly illegible catalog number. It was very heavy. Despite the care 
with which he pulled it out, one of its leaves slipped onto the carpet 
immediately.

Matt looked around with reflexive guilt. Behind him, after the aisle 
ended, another unoccupied row of shelves stretched away in rigid 
one-point perspective. This corner of the floor seemed quite deserted. 
No one had seen.

He opened the book and realized it wasn't really a book at all, only a 
sort of heavy folder enclosing a sheaf of unbound plates. He picked up 
the fallen leaf.

The paper was of heavy stock and lightly glossy. The image on the plate 
he held was a kaleidoscopic abstract divided into four symmetrical 
quarters. It was bold, but not particularly good.

Matt set the back of the folder on the ground and opened it up with its 
front leaning at an angle against the wall, so he could flip through the 
plates. The second was a similar abstraction. Matt turned the plate he 
held over to see if there was any explanatory text or an indication of 
sequence, but its reverse was blank.

Matt set the page he'd dropped against the front of the folder. He 
flipped through the first dozen or so images impatiently. They were all 
similar: obsessively symmetrical, but undisciplined; riots of color and 
shape executed with obvious care, but to no obvious purpose. Without 
context they were of no value to his paper, and they held little 
intrinsic interest.

Then he stopped short, confronted by an image of an entirely different 
sort. He couldn't tell if it was a painting or a photograph. The limited 
color palette and sheer drama of the lighting suggested the former, but 
when Matt held the plate close to his face and squinted at it he saw no 
evidence of brush strokes.

It was not the sort of picture one expected to see in a library. The 
scene was lit by a trio of blazing floodlights on the left. In the 
center foreground a woman was kneeling, her back arched, head back, and 
hands wrapped around her stiletto heels. Her skirt was of shiny black 
vinyl or rubber. A sleeveless sheath of the same material clung to her 
torso, baring the tops of her breasts. It was thin enough and tight 
enough that her erect nipples were very evident. Nothing of the 
background could be distinguished except a vague suggestion of poles 
supporting the lights. The foreground surface was anonymously dark.

On the right-hand side stood three men. They were dressed in what looked 
like thick, dark grey tape wrapped in parallel diagonal strips around 
their torsos and limbs, as if they were mummies. A single strip of tape 
slashed across each face, exposing the mouth and a single eye. They wore 
leathery black boots. Their privates were uncovered, and each of the men 
held his half-hard cock in one gloved hand.

Looking at the scene, Matt felt his own penis twitch as it continued to 
stiffen.

He studied the plate for some time. The woman's arms were bare and the 
harsh light emphasized the tension of her muscles. Although her face was 
mostly obscured, she had an aspect of intense concentration and 
expectation. The stance of the three men was vaguely menacing.

The image on the next leaf was even more shocking. Matt was a little 
surprised at how his prick continued to throb in his pants, but he 
couldn't deny the unexpected and perverse eroticism of the picture.

The same woman was kneeling, facing the viewer. Her position was more 
relaxed. Her knees were far enough apart to stretch her glistening skirt 
taut between her thighs. One arm was thrown across her eyes, again 
concealing much of her face. Her mouth was frozen in a laugh of delight 
and exuberance.

Two of the men stood at either side of her, visible only from the waist 
down at the two edges of the page. They were urinating on the woman's 
chest.

Matt could see where the pale arcs of fluid reached the woman, just 
below her collarbone. Some of the liquid streaked down the outside of 
her top, and some ran into the hollow between her breasts and down 
toward her belly.

Matt was startled to find himself wondering what it might feel like. 
Rather like the jet of a shower, he thought. Comfortably warm and moist, 
but spiked with the piquancy of the forbidden. He surprised himself by 
thinking it might be very exciting. There seemed little doubt that the 
woman was enjoying it greatly.

Matt flipped the page up against the others leaning on the front of the 
folio. He was breathing quite heavily.

The third image in the sequence was shown from a vantage point behind 
the woman. Her shoulder blades rose from the shiny black material like 
vestigial wings. Her black hair was cut close, baring her neck 
completely. She was kneeling upright now, leaning forward.

One of the men stood ahead of her and just to her left. He was pissing 
on the ground in front of her. In the reverse three-quarter view, Matt 
could just see the suggestion of a smile in the line of her cheek, and 
the tip of her tongue extended just millimeters from the yellow curve.

Matt looked around him again. The aisle was still deserted. He heard no 
one nearby. He gently squeezed his cock and balls through his pants and 
rubbed his hand up and down against his erection.

He stared at the curve of the woman's ass, revealed where it pressed 
against her skirt, the bulge of calf muscle under the blue mesh of her 
stockings, and the nape of her neck, left bare under a fringe of short 
black hair. But his eyes kept drifting back to the tantalizingly narrow 
gap between the stream of urine and her outstretched tongue.

After a while, Matt flipped the page up against the others. It struck 
him immediately that the fourth picture might be the last. He lifted up 
the corners of the next several leaves, reassuring himself that the 
pages held the same expanses of moody greys and blacks.

In the fourth plate, the kneeling woman again faced the viewer. She was 
grinning broadly. She did nothing to hide her face, but the dramatic 
overhead lighting and the evident joy that distended her mouth conspired 
to mask her features. Globs and smears of ejaculate spattered her face, 
her shoulders, and her neck. Matt could see dried streaks of urine on 
her skin and her clothing. She was kneeling in a shallow puddle of 
mingled secretions. One of her hands pressed flat into the wetness for 
balance; the other was thrust between her legs.

Matt paused and tried to think rationally for a few seconds. He wanted, 
he needed, to make himself come looking at the pictures. It was 
unthinkable to carry the heavy loose folio past the reception desk into 
the men's room, and it would be unwieldy to handle in a restroom stall. 
But if he stayed crouched as he was, he could slip his hand inside the 
waistband of his slacks and briefs. If he heard someone approach, he 
could withdraw his hand quickly and tip several sheets back into the 
folio, so that he was only looking at an innocent abstraction.

He turned the page up. After a quick guilty glance to assure himself 
that he was still unobserved, he shoved his hand into his pants to touch 
himself.

In the fifth picture, one of the men lay on the ground and the woman 
held herself atop him, legs bent and arms extended, so she was half 
reclined. The short skirt was inverted, lying across her stomach. Her 
anus was stretched around the cock of the man beneath her. A second man, 
his hand still on his erection, bent to massage the woman's 
black-fringed cunt with his other hand. Her head was turned to suck a 
third man kneeling by her head.

It was like nothing Matt had ever seen. The stark bluish illumination 
and the deep shadows gave the scene a feral intensity. Matt closed his 
hand around his prick and pumped it as best as he could within the 
confines of his slacks. Carefully he reached his free hand to turn the 
page up and reveal the next image.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

The whisper was moist breath right in his ear. Matt started and yanked 
his hand out of his pants. The page in his hand and several of the 
others fell to the floor. His eyes fell very briefly on the next plate. 
It showed the woman's head from directly above, her hands wrapped around 
two engorged cocks she held close to her lips. The powder blue of the 
woman's neat nails was incongruous against the throbbing purplish flesh 
she gripped.

"I -- " Matt began, then he broke off. What could he possibly say? He 
tried to get up, to run away, but a powerful hand on his shoulder held 
him down; he had no leverage.

"Filthy boy. You must be punished."

Matt turned his head awkwardly to look up. The librarian had removed her 
spectacles already; now she pulled the long brown wig from her scalp and 
dropped it carelessly. She ran her fingers through her spiky black hair 
and smiled nastily. Stepping between Matt and the bookshelf, she nudged 
the folio aside delicately with the toe of her shoe. She pulled up her 
skirt with one hand. She cupped the back of his head with her other and 
pulled his face between her legs. She was very strong.

"Clean me," the librarian ordered. She leaned back into the shelf to 
give him better access, and added a second hand to his head. Matt 
dropped his knees to the carpet so he wouldn't fall. He could barely 
breathe. His mouth and nose were filled with the scent of her pussy, and 
a whiff of something more pungent, even a touch acrid.

He stuck out his tongue tentatively. She was strong and salty on his 
taste buds, but also strangely sweet, pleasingly musky. The sharp 
quality vanished almost instantly. He found himself licking at her 
hungrily, teasing drops from her cunt hair.

"That's it," she encouraged.

Matt's cock pulsed almost painfully against elastic and cotton. He kept 
licking the librarian.

"Finger me," she ordered.

He slid a hand along the open mesh of her stockings -- thigh-highs, he 
realized -- across the elastic band at the top and onto the smooth 
stretch of bare flesh above. He massaged her lips delicately before 
entering her.

"Two fingers," she sighed. "Find my G-spot."

He pivoted his hand to oblige.

Her breath and his both came in short gasps. Matt felt a touch 
light-headed. He felt as if all the blood in his body were flooding into 
his erection, leaving his brain oxygen-starved.

"See how we punish filthy boys?" the librarian gasped.

Matt thought her question was rhetorical until he heard an answering 
male grunt. He was alarmed and tried to pull his head away. She held him 
firm.

"Did I tell you you could stop? Work that tongue. You're not allowed to 
stop until you've made me come."

Somehow the knowledge that his lewd performance had an audience only 
heightened his excitement. He stole his free hand down to his crotch 
again. He didn't think she'd notice, but she did, immediately.

"What do you think you're doing, pawing at yourself? Stop that at once. 
I don't want your attention divided."

He increased the pressure and speed of his tongue, circling around her 
clit and sucking it gently between his lips. She made an approving 
sound. His fingers rubbed steadily across the place where the texture of 
her cunt walls roughened.

"Oh fuck," she said suddenly. "Don't stop. Don't you fucking stop."

She came violently and wetly, her girl-come sluicing down his hand and 
her pelvis buffeting his skull. The noise she made was so low in her 
throat it was almost a growl.

At last she pulled his head from her cunt, but she kept pressure on his 
shoulders so he couldn't get up. He took a dizzy gulp of air and looked 
around. Three figures were watching avidly at the end of the aisle. In 
the center was a short, slightly chubby woman. She was wearing black hot 
pants at least a size too small, and her hair was dyed platinum. She 
wore a pair of large-lensed pink-tinted sunglasses and long dangly 
earrings. Her electric blue blouse was half unbuttoned, and one hand was 
inside it, playing with a tit.

Despite her platform pumps, the men flanking her were both taller. They 
could have been twins. They were solidly built, older than the woman, 
perhaps in their mid-30s. They stood like policemen, and the dark green 
slacks, tan shirts, and crewcuts they wore were suggested a uniform. 
They looked vaguely Teutonic, a little frightening, and disturbingly 
familiar.  

All three of the figures were staring at him and the librarian with 
slightly slack, glassy expressions of intense lust.

The woman stepped forward, teetering just a little on her fuck-me shoes. 
Her earrings jangled like miniature wind chimes. She steadied herself 
with her hands on Matt's shoulder and bent down to him. The librarian 
let go and stepped aside.

The woman in hot pants did not kiss Matt, although his lips parted 
expectantly for her. Instead, she extended her tongue and licked the 
librarian's wetness from his cheeks, his chin, his nose. She took her 
time. She lapped the moisture from his lips but didn't even graze his 
with her own. It was one of the most erotic things that had ever 
happened to him and it nearly made him come in his pants.

She stood up and leaned against one of the bookcases.

"Stand up," the librarian told Matt abruptly. "Take your cock out. Tell 
us all what you were doing."

Matt blushed so fiercely it felt like he had a sunburn. "I was 
masturbating," he said thickly. It was difficult to pull his stiff prick 
through the openings in his briefs and pants.

The librarian glanced at the woman in sunglasses. "Tidy up the book." 

She kneeled so low her heavy breasts almost brushed the ground. Matt 
admired the way the small of her back curved into her obscenely 
displayed ass. She picked up the fallen plates with reverent care. She 
had to sit up halfway to return the massive folio to its shelf.

Matt stood as if at attention, his arms stiff at his sides and his prick 
stiff in front of him.

"Show us," the librarian commanded. "Show us how you were touching 
yourself."

Matt grabbed his cock and jerked it for them. He was a little hesitant 
at first. It was unnerving to have the eyes of the two men on him, but 
that was balanced by the thrill of showing off for the two women. Matt 
was proud of his cock. It wasn't the world's biggest, but he wasn't 
insecure about it, and it had never been bigger or harder than it was 
now.

Soon he all but forgot about the watching men. His eyes flicked between 
the librarian and the woman in sunglasses. He let himself relish the 
sensation of his hand tugging at his foreskin and rubbing his cockhead.

The blonde looked deliciously slutty. As he stared, she unzipped her 
shorts and began to finger her slit. The librarian didn't do anything so 
overt, but Matt found her sardonic expression extremely sexy. He smeared 
pre-come over his head and stroked his ball sac with his other hand.

"Is that thing going to spurt all over the place?" the librarian asked.

"Yeah," Matt gasped.

"We can't have that," she said crisply. "It makes such a mess on the 
carpet. Stop that at once."

Matt couldn't have said why he obeyed her. He just did, without thinking 
about it much. He dropped his hands to his sides again.

A sly smile curled the librarian's lips. "Fortunately for you, you're 
not the only one who needs to be punished today." She looked sternly at 
the woman in the pink sunglasses, who pulled her hand away from her 
pussy guiltily. "You know what to do," the librarian told her.

She promptly dropped to her knees. She took Matt's cock into her mouth 
and started sucking him.

"Fuck her mouth," the librarian ordered Matt. "Be rough."

Matt rocked his hips forward, thrusting most of the way into the 
blonde's mouth.

"That's it," the librarian said. "Hold her head with your hands. Pull 
her onto your prick."

Matt complied with her request. The rougher he was, the more 
enthusiastically she sucked him. He was soon very close to coming.

"Stop," the librarian said. Matt let go and the blonde lifted her head 
away.

"Those clothes are ridiculous," the librarian said. "They make you look 
like a tramp. Take them off."

The blonde woman undid the last few buttons on her blouse and freed her 
pendulous breasts. She had to stand up to peel her shorts down her 
thighs and step carefully out of them. She wore no underwear.

The other two men had pulled their cocks out and were stroking them 
slowly as they watched the scene.

"Do you want your pussy licked while you suck him?"

The nude woman nodded eagerly. "Yes, please." She knelt before Matt 
again, with her legs spread wide.

The librarian pointed to one of the men. "You," she said simply. He 
promptly lay beneath the woman and raised his head to lick her. She took 
Matt's cock into her mouth again.

"Do you have lubricant?" the librarian asked the other man. He fished a 
small plastic bottle out of his pants pocket with some difficulty and 
handed it to her. "Good," she cooed. She squirted lube onto the middle 
finger of her left hand and smeared it around. "Mary Ann can suck you, 
too," she told him.

The man pushed his pants down and stepped out of them. He stood next to 
Matt and the blonde woman -- Mary Ann -- pulled away from Matt to suck 
on the newly presented cock.

The librarian reached behind her back and pulled her skirt up. Matt 
watched with interest. He could see the long muscles in her arm move as 
her hand twisted. The librarian tossed the bottle to the man on the 
floor. "Slick yourself up," she told him.

He slid out of his trousers and poured lube into his palm. He rubbed his 
prick till it glistened from head to root.

Mary Ann kept swapping back and forth between the two cocks. She jacked 
one slowly while she licked the other, then she took them both in her 
hands. Matt felt the man's hips jostle his. Mary Ann brought their 
cockheads close enough that she could slide her tongue between and touch 
them both at the same time. Matt found the other man's proximity 
disturbing, but the sight of Mary Ann's lipsticked mouth with two pricks 
so close to it was more than erotic enough to compensate.

The licking she was getting started to impair Mary Ann's concentration. 
She turned Matt loose for a moment. The other man grabbed her head and 
hammered into her. She gurgled happily around him and pinched her own 
nipples. The man stiffened and groaned sharply. He pulled out of Mary 
Ann's mouth and painted her cheek and sunglasses with semen.

The librarian was irate. "I didn't give you permission to come yet," she 
whispered dangerously. She grabbed the book Matt had set aside from the 
shelf behind her and smacked his bare ass with it repeatedly. The noise 
of the book against his flesh was shockingly loud. He shuddered and 
moaned and more come dribbled from the tip of his cock. Matt wondered if 
he'd come too soon on purpose.

The man staggered away when the librarian finished spanking him. Mary 
Ann returned as much of her attention as she could to Matt's prick. The 
other man had been licking her the whole time and she was clearly close.

The librarian squatted down on the slick cock jutting up for her. She 
reached her hand around to knead Mary Ann's tits. She caught her nipples 
between splayed fingers and pinched and twisted.

The man underneath jerked his hips up with powerful thrusts, lifting the 
librarian's body. She leaned forward, mashing her breasts against Mary 
Ann's back. "Yeah," she rasped. "Fuck me good and hard. Just like that."

Matt dimly wondered why no one was investigating the commotion. The 
foursome was making a lot of noise. He stroked Mary Ann's hair as he 
filled her mouth again and again.

Finally, the librarian gaspingly gave them all permission to come.

Matt let himself release the semen roiling in his balls as Mary Ann 
writhed on the other man's face. Their mingled moans rose to a 
crescendo. Matt was unable to keep standing; he slid awkwardly to the 
ground. They rested, panting, in a tangled, sweaty heap.

The others recovered much more quickly than Matt did. The spanked man 
pulled his trousers back on first, then Mary Ann wiggled free of the 
pile to grab her blouse and pants. Matt was still gasping and drained as 
the others dressed and the librarian smoothed her skirt and pulled her 
wig back on.

The librarian looked down at him appraisingly. "Not bad," she allowed. 
"You may be given chances to participate further. Be alert." She turned 
to the man who'd been spanked. "Chloroform, please," she said crisply.

He pulled something wrapped in a square of cloth out of his pocket. His 
motions were almost too quick for Matt to follow. Before he could react, 
a handkerchief tingling with harsh chemical scent was pressed against 
his face.

Matt didn't think he was out for long, but the others were gone when he 
opened his eyes. His head throbbed a little. He was still lying in the 
stacks with his now-limp penis poking out of his pants. He zipped 
himself up dazedly. The big folio was absent from the bottom shelf. He 
picked up the art text bemusedly, thinking how strange it was that it 
had just been used as a sort of sexual aid.

Unsurprisingly, the librarian who checked his book out wasn't the same 
one. He didn't see her, or the others, anywhere.

Matt stepped outside. The shock of sunshine was much like emerging from 
a movie theater into startling daylight. For the past hour or so, he'd 
been living within the gloomy single-minded intensity of the dirty 
photographs. Now tires hissed and birds chirped; the world was almost 
normal again.

Matt held the book casually against his hip. He walked down the street, 
smiling at everything and looking for clues.


-- Meme Misspelt
-- http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/meme_misspelt/www/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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