Saturday, May 3, 2014

He'd never met a woman quite like Rachel...

I read this scene in my nighttime reading a few days ago and loved it...depicting a submissive woman stumbling onto a Dominant, just when she's ready to give up real time bdsm in favor of her erotic fantasies. Jackson Brandt changes all that. 

This novel was written from both the Dominant and submissive perspectives, in the words of Jackson Brandt and Rachel Linney. This excerpt from the Dom's point of view. 

For more information, ordering info, plus a review of this novel, check the Pink Flamingo website.

From Experiment In Terror by Lizbeth Dusseau

Jackson Brandt…

What happened on the beach charged my sadistic batteries in ways I could hardly recognize. Rachel was different than the other women who let me tease them into bondage and submission. Those women weren’t very submissive: painsluts, maybe, but little more.

    “You want to be spanked,” I said, knowing I was right. As we moved through the kitchen, I grabbed a thick wooden spoon from the wall where it hung like an innocuous ornamentation. She was petrified when her eyes lit on the ominous thing, and even more so when I roughly pushed her over the back of my white leather sofa and began to lay in on the territory of her finely rounded ass. I alternated the smacks with a fierce massage, bringing her to the brink of a second orgasm before I backed off. “Not so fast!” I said, in warning.

    “Oh, dear god, please!”

    “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to let you get off.” I pulled her upright, my lips at her ear, whispering tersely. “You’ve come once, the least you could do is wait for me to catch up.”

    Inside my grasp, her body shuddered, something I felt inside my crotch. The recognition of my power over her made me bolder still. I’d take her as far as I could in one night, knowing somewhere we’d finally reach her limit. This was just a test for what came next. 

    The wooden spoon came down aggressively, turning the white of her ass a vibrant shade of scarlet. Her moans became more animated the more I worked her fiery behind, though she stopped just short of crying out. I imagine that she wanted to scream, but some inner control kept her responses in check, as if she’d already trained herself. By the time the spanking was over, we were into foreign territory for me, and places I’m sure only her fertile imagination had explored. Flying blind. The most exhilarating experiences come when instinct takes over – business, sex, doesn’t matter which arena. I travel easily into the unknown and bask in its thrills. This night had already been an exceptional one, and it was not yet over.

    I grabbed my belt and quickly undid the buckle, pulling the leather from the belt loops until the length of it dangled from my hand. She shivered in wait, and shivered more when I grazed her red cheeks with the delicate touch of the cool leather. Over and over, the simple caress went on, until I heard sensuous moans of pleasure break through the surrounding silence.

    “You want this, Rachel.” I didn’t have to ask the question. I knew.

    Her entire body responded in a strained and passionate sigh.

    “Have you ever had a belt punish your behind?” This was a question that required her answer.

    “No, sir,” she quickly replied. I imagine that she hardly had to think. Words came to her easily. So do images of surrender.

    I pulled her up by the neck and forced her hands behind her. “Keep them there.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Open your mouth and bite down.” I forced the belt inside her mouth so she was holding it in the middle, the two ends dangling down on either side.

    While she held her head high, teeth sunk into the leather, I stood off to the side and rolled up my shirt sleeves. The action caught her, where panic and excitement mixed so beautifully.

    When I was ready, I grabbed the belt and pushed her back down over the sofa. Doubling the leather in my fist, I reared back and let the leather go over the same territory that the wooden spoon had just reddened. There seemed to be no pain now, just a crescendoing arousal in us both that stiffened my dick and made her grind her cunt against the top of the sofa.

    “Legs wide!” I ordered.

    She obeyed. I hit her more, while watching between her ass cheeks where pussy juices seeped from her slit.

    Her wild gyrations against my sofa made it clear that another climax was not far off. Every strike of leather only sent her closer to that edgy peak. At last, I pulled up, stuffed the end of the belt between her teeth, then thread the end with the buckle down between her legs like I would a rope, making sure that the edge of the leather would rub against her clit. Then with the buckle in my hand, I yanked up hard and jerked her crotch, while holding her to my chest. At first she whimpered in pain, though a shuddering spasm from deep inside her body shook her hard. She seized up taut as a bow, then convulsed with sexual spasms until she finally rested back against me, occasionally twitching as the electric pulse of her orgasm eased.

    The quiet, the stillness wrapped us in a shroud of pleasure. But I was not done with her. Not yet. She owed me for my time, for the gracious way I allowed her to get off before I had. My cock insisted.

    I turned her round, shoved her to her knees, and stuffed my prick in her mouth.

    “Fuck it, Rachel,” I said in a low and steady voice. I could have called her bitch, or slut, or any one of the derogatory terms for women and it would have fit. She was likely to enjoy the slander, but I loved her name, the intimacy of its sound when I used it as if she was someone I deeply loved.

    But this was far too soon for love.

    I used her face like I used her pussy on the beach. I crammed my cock inside her mouth, deep as her throat would allow, and felt my come surge in waves as I released.

    She was breathless and wasted when I was done, slumped on the floor. What I would have given to know what was going on inside her mind. I was wasted too, and breathless, and very much afraid.

    I knew how much I wanted to take this Rachel Linney to the depths of my desires where my sadistic needs lurked so fiercely. I had to restrain myself from going further. In time, in time, I calmed myself.

    My breathing returned to normal, and so had hers by the time I lifted her to her feet and we moved to the couch.

    “Cold?” I asked, handing her a cashmere throw.

    “Thanks,” she smiled weakly.


    “Please, and a glass of water.”

    I retreated to the kitchen to fetch the items, and returned with two beers and a water for Rachel.

    “Tell me what you’re thinking,” I asked as I sat down.

    Her wide eyes glimmered, her dark hair a beautiful mess. Just-fucked women couldn’t be more wondrous.

    “My ass is hot,” she giggled.

    “It is?”

    She nodded.

    I reached out and pulled her toward me, tossing the throw to the floor. As I stretched out on the couch, she lay against me, her head tucked to my chest and my hand in her silky hair.

    “Did I take you too far?” I made her look in my eyes.

    “If you had, you’d have known,” she replied. A sweet and winsome expression graced her face.

    “What if you were to live out your fantasies? Not just spanking, but the ones you write about, the ones in your books?”

    She looked up at me startled. “I don’t even consider it anymore.”

    “Why is that?”

    She shrugged a little and pulled out of my arms, I’m sure afraid. I let her go and waited as she curled back up in the cashmere throw.

    “I’ve been unimpressed by the small number of contacts I’ve made in the S&M scene. I lost interest.”

    “I don’t believe that.”

    “Believe what you want. Trust me. This was just an isolated incident.”

    “And you’re embarrassed now?”

    “Not really. Just surprised at myself…and you, and tonight, and everything…”

    “Then maybe I wasn’t wrong about you and me.”

    “I don’t know that yet. It’s just been one night.”

    “And you think I’d drop you now?”

    “I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’d do. I have to protect myself.”

    “You didn’t seek much protection in the last two hours.”

    “You’re right about that,” she conceded with a smile.

    “But is it so strange that you might be the right woman?”

    She pondered this a minute. “Maybe not.”

    “Don’t think you can hide yourself, Rachel. You let yourself go tonight. And you’re going to do that again, and again, and again…”

    Her eyes glistened with tears. Her emotion seemed private so I didn’t ask.

    “I’m not sure that this is a good thing,” she said. “I mean tonight has been…well, quite an experience, but I-I I’m…” She bit her lip and closed her eyes, gathering up her courage, perhaps.

    “You’re scared. You’re terrified. There’s no harm in that. You can spend the night, I’ll take you home in the morning. At the very least I owe you a new dress.”

    She laughed, and let me pull her back into my arms where she was warm against me, and she didn’t have to look into my probing eyes.

    Later, I pulled her into my bedroom where we slept, where we made love sometime around dawn, more quietly this time. Then we fell briefly back to sleep with the morning sky beginning to brighten.

    The night was short, since I had an early conference call in the morning. I rose at six while she was still sleeping, fixed her eggs and toast, then loaned her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear home. If I hadn’t so damn much to do in the next few days, I would have kept her with me and turned her into my slave. I could already imagine her crawling on the floor at the end of my leash. But I was getting way ahead of myself. Women don’t let a man bring them along that fast. And those that do end up getting cold feet in the middle of something important. They split in a huff and blame it on the man’s insensitivity. I’d avoid that trap now. Rachel Linney, if she wanted me and what I could give her, would stew for a while in the memory of our night together. Then I’d spring my trap. I had little doubt that she’d fall victim to the bait. I’d never met a woman that I more wanted to love and abuse.

    I believed she wanted what I had to offer as much as I wanted her.

Friday, May 2, 2014

Spontaneous Combustion: The Novel

"There's the story, then there's the real story, then there's the story of how the story came to be told. Then there's what you leave out of the story. Which is part of the story too." — Margaret Atwood, author of The Handmaiden's Tale

The finishing touches on the manuscript of Spontaneous Combustion: The Novel are just about done, and this long labor of love, begun nearly a year ago will be released in print and ebook later this month. My most personal and most true to reality BDSM lifestyle novel. This one has been hard to let go but now it's time, and I'm excited to see it in print at last. 

More information and the book description coming soon!

I'm re-posting a piece that I first posted in May of 2013, which is now the prologue for this novel. By the way, the post directly following this one, "I Bring the Collar out at Night" is one of those pieces that I left out of the story.

Spontaneous Combustion 

Eleven o’clock, I’m ready for bed. It’s been raining all day, and there’s another storm passing through… thunder, lightning, driving rain. Suddenly the tornado siren in town is going off, and the ‘take cover’ announcement interrupts my TV show. I grab a flashlight, just in case, and fly down to the basement to wait…
Wait until the siren dies and I tiptoe back upstairs.
Nothing is damaged, nothing undone.

       As I slip off to bed in an attempt to sleep I hear another storm coming through.This one won’t be as severe I am assured by the local weatherman

       And yet…left in the wake of that last furious frenzy, my muse strikes like a thunderbolt. It's just a first draft, but here's what poured out...

I want you to tie me to a tree, thrust me against an old tree stump, order me over a table, over the end of the bed.

After yanking down my pants, you draw your leather belt from your jeans …
Doubling it in your fist you begin to flail it against my ass…
Until white turns crimson, until my ass is scorched
I’m groaning deeply and crying out for mercy

Ah! But mercy will wait until later…

Until you’ve dropped your belt, unzipped your jeans
Until you’ve rammed your way home inside my cunt
I explode and you explode
almost belligerent but strangely beautiful
Like the storm that just passed through on its way to elsewhere

Before you’re done with me you have me in your bed again
Inside my ass this time, driving through like a man possessed    
I explode and you explode again

       And then…

When the fury dies you hold me, you kiss my lips and run your hands over my
sweaty skin.

Hurts are healed, a day’s worth of trouble forgotten
Worry quits is anxious grip
And wounds bound up in tenderness are carried away by love

In the long twilight thereafter we stretch out in each other’s arms
Later in the evening, I sit at your feet and rest my head against your knee.

Unpublished Copyright © 2013, Lizbeth Dusseau