As far as Dianna was concerned, there were few things better in life than getting lost in a good book.
It was rare that the elegant brunette was not seen exploring the halls of her local library, her insatiable hunger for knowledge and general aversion to people making it a favoured refuge, and today was no different, her presence signalled by the click of her high-heeled ankle boots echoing throughout the marbled halls. The staff knew her by sight now: an attractive woman in her early thirties, tall and slender, brown curls cascading down past her shoulders, her blue eyes sharp and quick. She drew more than a few interested looks in her flattering black dress and stockings, yet Dianna noticed none of them. She was here to stimulate her mind, for her attentions were fixated on the new paperback in her arms, the book clasped tight so no one could peek at the cover and scold her for indulging in problematic content.
Eventually, Dianna found a quiet seat over in the library’s study area, the wooden barriers at each desk giving the patrons some privacy, and only then did she expose the book’s cover to her gaze. The image of a beautiful Asian woman, bound and gagged, was there to greet her, provoking a blush. Dianna liked to make every excursion to the library a new adventure, exploring topics she was less familiar with, or genres she’d never experienced, or even just randomly picking a book from the shelves to read. It was through the last that she’d discovered the first Crimson Blossom novel, and only a half a chapter in, she’d become hopelessly lost in the tribulations and love affairs of a feudal Japanese noblewoman and her household. Now, every time a new installment of the series managed to find its way onto the library’s shelves, Dianna made sure she was first in line to experience it. They were exciting and dripping with passion… and fiendishly erotic, for it seemed that every installment saw its heroines being kidnapped, tied up and menaced by some perverse bandit or jealous rival. Indeed, the previous book had ended on a major cliffhanger, as the chief heroine Lady Mariko was abducted by one of her own retainers, the manipulative samurai Takashi, whose obsessive lust for her had driven him to the brink of madness. Gingerly, so as not to damage the book’s spine, Dianna turned to the first page, and as ever, the strange, irrational desire that came every time she read a Crimson Blossom book stirred inside her…
Lady Mariko looked from Takashi’s wild-eyed face, then back to the naked steel in his hand, then back again. “Mmmpppggghh!” she gave a frantic, animal cry, made feeble by the bit of bamboo wood forced between her teeth and drowned out by the apocalyptic storm that seethed upon the thatched roof of the hovel and flooded away the roads. The only piece of furniture the peasants owned, a stout chair, served as part of her makeshift prison, and she groaned as she fought against the rough hemp holding her fast at her wrists, ankles and beneath her breasts. “MMMMPPPGGGGHHHH!”
“All lost and alone, are you, my lady?” came the bitter sneer of her captor, and Mariko flinched as he dared to lay hands on the sharp lines of her face. “Found this hut when I was exploring for the daimyo. No one will find us here.”
“MMMPPPPGGGHH!”
“Mmmm…” It did not take much for a Crimson Blossom novel to bring a strange pleasure to Dianna, and she continued on, heart thumping at her chest as Lady Mariko’s torments continued…
His blade flashed out with the precision and skill her husband demanded of one of his household guard, and Mariko flinched as the sash binding her formal kimono was cleanly cleaved in two. “Mmmmpppggghh, mmmpppppgggghhh!” Again, he ignored her, free hand pulling away the garment so that her perfect, pale breasts were revealed to the cold night air and his hungry gaze both. “MMMMPPPPGGGGHHH!”
“Beautiful,” the treacherous samurai muttered, pausing to fondle one of her orbs. “This makes all the waiting worthwhile…”
Dianna let out another soft groan, letting the sensations take hold of her. Oh, if only I could be treated like that, came her idle thought, and within moments, she was exploring a fantasy of being in Mariko’s place, a helpless damsel lost and at the non-existent mercy of a villain. She could almost feel the sensation of ropes snug around her slender body, of the gag filling her mouth, of his lustful breath upon her skin whispering promises of the perverse treatment to come… and she couldn’t help but want it, reason and logic be damned.
Inspiration took hold. Rising from her chair and cradling the novel close once more, Dianna decided to explore the library’s non-fiction section, particularly those relating to technical skills. After all, they had all the knowledge once could wish for here, so surely she could find something to help explore her new-found interest. Perhaps a volume on self-bondage techniques was lost amongst the endless stacks, waiting to be found…