THE LIBRARY: Trying Out Part 1

Trying1TRYING OUT Part One 
{This story originally appeared on BDSMARTWORK and features some amazing art by SteveWe thank them for letting us share it with you here}

He felt something like an electric shock when she entered the otherwise empty lobby of the small suburban radio station. Thick, long brunette hair parted on the right. Big, really big, sparkling brown eyes. Incredible cute, oval face with a pert little nose, perfect teeth, spectacularly rich, wet, full lips, and the sweetest smile this side of the angels. She was no more than five feet, two inches tall, and couldn't have weighed more than 105 pounds.
Given her diminutive height and eternal looks, she could’ve been anything from 18 to twenty-four.

Still, her shape was spectacular, with big bubble breasts. And they were nestled in a thin, super-tight, filmy, u-necked, light blue lycra t-shirt that looked painted on. Then there was a pleated plaid miniskirt that hung on her slim yet curved hips that did nearly nothing to disguise her small, round, tight, hard, rump and long, shapely legs. Those legs were covered in beige leggings and ended in three-and three-quarter-inch high heel suede dance boots.
“Hey,” he said casually, moving toward her, his hand in his pocket. “Here for the tryout?”
“Yes,” she said sweetly, her voice lilting. “My mom dropped me off. I’m not too early, am I?”
“Aw, nah,” he said nonchalantly, still moving toward her, the sodden pad coming out of his pocket as he approached. “I’d say you were right on time.”
“Great,” she chirped, starting to turn and motion out the door toward the front parking lot. “I’ll just tell….”
That’s all she got out before he slammed the thick, wet wadding over her nose and mouth while wrenching her right arm high up her back, her purse trapped in the crook of her bent arm.

Her reaction was gratifying. She froze while surging up and arching. Not giving her time to regain her wits, he spun around and propelled them both, side-first, into the men’s room door. One second the small, square, olive-colored enclosure with the urinal and simple toilet was empty. The next, a small, sexy, writhing, bleating shape with her eyes huge and her lower face padded was impelled toward the custodian room door at the rear.
Gripping her to him by her mouth, nose, and wrist, he slammed her against the wall directly beside the door and viced her there until the sedative could take effect.

He exulted in the way her tiny shape thrashed against him, staring down at the way her preternatural tits swelled in the shirt’s u-neck.
Geez, he thought, seeing that her proud bazooms were first in a blue lace underwire bra. He then became aware of the way her taut rump bounced against his crotch as if she were giving him an illegal lap dance. Finally he realized how the hand that was gripping his wrist was getting lax.
He let go of her waist and grabbed the custodian’s closet doorknob. With a twist and a pull, it was open and he shoved her in. The girl stumbled forward, her hands slapping the concrete block walls to keep from falling. He was on her like a tick, snapping a tight, thick, elastic band around her head to hold the sopping pad tightly over her nostrils and lips. Then he tore the purse from her grip with one hand while pushing her back with the other.
Her hands tried to flutter up to relieve the pressure at her mouth, but he was already slapping the handcuffs on her wrists. She sensed him moving away, then stood unsteadily, tottering on trembling legs – her lower face padded, her wrists locked behind her, a sickly sweet smell coating her brain with every breadth.

TO BE CONTINUED

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