Friday, November 7, 2014

The Little Savage and her New Master...

Hot BSDM Erotica...

The set up: The waifish Lisle is a BSDM slave, in need of a new master after her master dies. She falls into the hands of Daniel Broc, a former mercenary who once ran a slave trading operation in the Middle East. Although he’s given up his perverted lifestyle, Lisle stirs up desires in him he can’t quite shake. The two are misfits in polite society, mirror images of the other in their sexual passions. While Daniel resists becoming the girl’s master, he also knows there’s no one more capable of handling this explosive and secretive female. Their tempestuous relationship is fraught with sexual tension, which sends them hurling into the extremes of sex they both love and need.

Excerpt from the novel Little Savage

She didn’t say a word, but if he weren’t mistaken, the curious glint in her eye was intended to seduce him—and if not deliberate, then it was an instinctive response, and entirely in character for this mischievous female. She didn’t bother saying goodnight; and with the provocative smile on her lips communicating her desire—as if she were dropping a trail of sexual breadcrumbs for him to follow—she turned and continued up the stairs, her ass still swaying with a lurid jiggle. He watched until she was out of sight then he returned to his office for a short while and followed her up a half hour later.
By the time Daniel mounted the stairs, she was in her room with the door ajar. When he pushed the door a little wider, he could barely see Lisle resting on the bed with the bureau he’d brought down from the third floor still pressed up tightly to its side and blocking his view. Stepping into the room so he could see around the dresser, he found her tucked into the corner, propped up on pillows with her eyes glued to the pages of a romantic novel—the lurid cover gave it away. He nearly smiled. More than once, she’d thrown a book like that against the wall in disgust. He’d heard the distinctive thud coming from her room just days before. When he went to investigate the noise, she looked up unapologetically and announced in a voice thickly laced with scorn: “That’s the worst rubbish I’ve read in a decade!”

    He was mildly amused by her declaration. “Then maybe you should read something else,” he’d said.

    She replied with an emphatic, “I will!” Currently, she had two neatly arranged stacks of paperback novels she inherited from the housekeeper Alice sitting on the floor and rising nearly half way up the wall opposite the bed. She was reading a new one now and already over half way through. When she saw Daniel standing in her room, she looked up in alarm and let the open book slide to the floor.

    “Yes, sir?” Her expression was filled with hopeful expectation.

    Dressed in a thin t-shirt and nothing else, her nipples poked through the fabric like hard little knots and the sight of her made his rising cock stiffen nearly to its full size. Although she often played the timid waif, the Lisle that greeted him now was a sexual siren to rival any woman he’d fucked in years. She exuded a strange mix of childlike innocence and savvy temptress in her appealing eyes. At some point, a colorful brocade paisley bedspread had been added to the bed—another gift from Alice no doubt. The lustrous velveteen was fringed with gold and draped to the floor, all of which added to her beguiling appearance.

    When she pulled back the covers to show her legs and a peek of her naked pussy, she delivered an invitation he didn’t require in order to have her. He could fuck her when he wanted as that would be his right as her self-proclaimed master. However for this occasion, he appreciated the message those bared legs and bared pussy conveyed. If anything about their mealtime conversation changed her feelings toward him, in particular her trust in him as a man and a master, it didn’t show in the deliberate display.

    Accepting this, he gave the small room a quick once over and scowled. Stalking forward he roughly pulled the dresser away from the bed and shoved it back against the wall where it had previously been, effectively destroying her private sanctuary.

    “You need confinement when you sleep, sleep under the stairs. I’ve given you that option, use it, and don’t go changing furniture so I can’t get to you.”

    “Yes, sir,” she replied meekly, though as meek as her response was, he felt a rush of excitement from her feeding his own need.

    Still annoyed by the room’s arrangement, he pulled the bed away from the wall several inches—he needed the space. She watched him carefully, looking like a dazed genie on a magic carpet, as he shoved and tugged the bed until it suited him. Finally satisfied with the arrangement, he opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and was grateful to see that the ropes he put there some time ago were still inside, along with a few other items he might need should the occasion arise—a gag, cuffs, clothespins and a bleached muslin bag with a drawstring tie. Inside it would be a set of three anal dildos of different sizes.

    He squatted down and rummaged through the items, which were not as he left them. “You’ve been through these things?” he asked.

    She didn’t reply right away.

    “Have you?” He persisted.

    “Yes, sir,” she admitted, starting to blush.

    “Yes, I suspect you would,” he responded, not all that kindly.

    He closed the drawer without removing a thing and rose to his feet, still annoyed, his restless energy growing more strident with every second that passed.

    He doused the light, preferring shadows to the bright overhead beaming down on the room, then he moved to the side of the bed and looked down on his trembling victim with his eyes as remote as the stars. She played her part well, had every shivering move, every soulful and wanting expression memorized like lines in a play. She’d been trained for this, and for just one second the brutal mercenary was consumed by a fit of jealous rage toward every man who’d used her nubile body.

    He threw the feeling off as quickly as it arose. “Take off the t-shirt,” he ordered.

    She stared at him, the heat in her ratcheted up a degree or two. He saw that in the way her wide and inquisitive eyes darkened. They’d fucked before but this was new—inside her room, a place no longer private and sacred to her. The room was his and so was she.

    Though she hesitated with the t-shirt, there was not a lick of rebellion in her mood, just fear—the good kind of fear that excites the brain and sends adrenalin soaring through a body hungry for sex. Lust and instinct at last kicked in and she threw off the t-shirt and reclined back against the pillows. Her large eyes drilled him to his core; his eyes did the same to her, though hard and imperious, and enough to make her shiver anew. Her subtle strength impressed him and he watched her longer than he might have a less intriguing female, making metal notes of every subtle shift in her mood.

    His silence and unmoving stance made her doubt herself. He could almost hear her thoughts scream out to him—take me, take me, please take me now! In the midst of that terrible moment, she reflexively reached back and grabbed the metal bedrail above her and opened her thighs. Her breaths were short, her lips parted and he could feel her want attack him, not just in his crotch but in every corner of his horny body. With his eyes turning savage and almost crazed he let the sadist in him rise: the Colonel, the mercenary, the bastard he loved. He unbuckled his pants and let them drop, threw off his shirt, and stepped from the puddle of denim, naked, his muscled body driven by the compelling need to use her hard and leave her wasted. Lisle’s eyes went instantly to his teeming erection with her longing glance giving his cock another serious jolt. On another night she’d be sucking his penis by now, but not this night.

    He fell to her body with his rock hard penis spearing her sex like the blade of a knife. Her cry was pained, but strangely musical in quality and she seemed to adjust her entire body to conform to his. He felt her beneath him, so slight, so small; he could tear her apart in seconds, but that certainly was not his aim. He only wanted to use her. Her surrender was a given, and now with every forceful thrust into her steamy cunt he made clear that his domination of her was indisputable.

    But she was more than passive, more than surrendering. Rather than limply take the drilling he forced on her, she begged for it with every obvious and nuanced response. Her body ignited the instant he impaled her, and she grabbed for him with almost frantic need, kissing him wherever her lips found flesh to kiss—mostly his shoulders and neck, but the frenzy of small kisses also extended to his face and his lips and his chest. Emboldened by her zealous response, he tore at her, groping her body like a madman until the two finally settled into a steady fucking rhythm. Their savage sexual dance rocked her small twin bed until the sound of the groaning springs filled the room with the awful screech. His explosion came quickly, while hers had been ongoing. For several moments locked tight in a violent embrace the two felt like one throbbing orgasm, but then as soon as he filled her grabbing snatch with his cum, he pulled away from her and climbed from the bed.

    “Come lick me clean,” he ordered, as he stood beside her. She popped up quickly and as she expertly licked her pussy juice from his organ, she almost suckled the flagging thing back to life.

    By then, he’d had enough of her. He’d had enough of subs and slaves, and women in general, along with all their complications. The girl brought more complications than most, which continued to trouble him. But he could now use her in the rough way he used women and feel no remorse. That knowledge pleased him.

    For the rest of the night, however, he’d be glad to be by himself in his lonely bed without the thought of complicating females to disturb his sleep.

    “Sleep nude tonight,” he ordered as he was leaving, “I don’t want clothes in the way if I need you later.”

    He knew he wouldn’t be back that night. He was more tired than horny. But she didn’t need to know that. It gave him some satisfaction to know that she’d be sleeping with one ear open just in case he came for her again. Standard form for slaves.

Copyright (c) by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permission.