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You've wondered about that quiet, reserved bookworm in the office or the library, haven't you? The always respectful one, eyes cast down, who doesn't seem to know how attractive she is. She has a decent education, girl-next-door looks and a workaday job. At night she probably returns to her tidy home with knitting and cats...
...but what if instead she puts on her slut clothes and gets out her toys in preparation for your scorching intrusion into in her most intimate life?
Each day I move agonizingly alone among these dusty stacks of books, hoping that He will notice me. My lithe body burns moist and slippery underneath my conservative skirt, my breasts strain against their silken cage, and an insatiable desire smolders in green eyes behind mousy glasses. He grabs my wrist and presses me into the cold, unforgiving steel bookshelves, or to the top of the hard glass cases in the reading room, his whispered voice asking, demanding surrender. Shakily but with no doubts, I say yes. And then life begins...
Have you found me out? I am a submissive, Sir, you are right.