tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75600112525277846782024-03-13T14:44:33.819-04:00Erotica Author Lizbeth DusseauCurrent Musings, Erotic Stories and Book Excerpts from Lizbeth Dusseau. Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.comBlogger114125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-34789089400120888152019-06-14T12:45:00.000-04:002019-06-14T12:45:42.941-04:00The Glass House New 2019 BDSM Novel!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<h2 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</h2>
<h2 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">The Glass House</span></span></i></span><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> by Lizbeth Dusseau<br />A simple story of lust, abandon and surrender</span></span></i></span></h2>
<h2 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fhxEBCL0Zw0/XQJpF4KjF5I/AAAAAAAABNc/9blcxNTY2v8p6SyBpROG8bARUHCuBBoFQCEwYBhgL/s1600/The-Glass-HouseSW.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fhxEBCL0Zw0/XQJpF4KjF5I/AAAAAAAABNc/9blcxNTY2v8p6SyBpROG8bARUHCuBBoFQCEwYBhgL/s400/The-Glass-HouseSW.jpg" width="265" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>There will be no hiding in this hideaway</b></span>...</span></span></i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">He builds her a retreat from the world, tucked into the woods. But this is no secluded forest hideaway! Carrie's glass house is open to the world...including all the men that traipse across his property. No curtains. No blinds. No way to hide. But then, why would she want to? The sexy seductress loves her naked exhibitions before the hungering eyes of her admirers. Some even darken the doorway, looking for sex, with Carrie willing to give them what they want.</span></span></span></h2>
<h2 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here's a sexy excerpt from this new novel... </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">For further information about this book, you can find it on my new <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/LizbethErotica">Etsy site...Lizbeth Erotica</a></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "minion pro" , "serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On
the afternoon that Tony arrived, I’d just finished a lengthy piece of writing.
I was elated and in the mood for celebration. When it comes to celebrations, it
might have been more fitting if Jerry had been the one to inaugurate my new
little home. He was always up for a party. Instead, there was a more sedate Tony
standing at my front door with, of all things, a casserole in hand. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Welcome
to the neighborhood,” he said as he passed the warm dish to me. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
was surprised by the gesture, and found myself laughing. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
okay, isn’t it?” </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s
lovely, thank you!” I beamed as I set the dish on the kitchen counter, and then
gave him a grateful hug. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If
that hug had broken apart even a second sooner, my fate in the glass house
might have been quite different. But there was a lingering moment when the rush
of electricity between us was more than either of us expected. I felt his body
pulse against mine and couldn’t seem to pull from his grasp. There was a
quickening in my belly, which while awkward at the outset, was unmistakably
arousing. Obviously Tony felt that arousal, too. He slowly backed me to the
kitchen counter, his hand in my hair, my lips parting and ready to meet his. When
I hit concrete countertop, there was a brief moment of hesitation when either
of us could have stepped away. However, it seemed that neither of us was capable
of halting the visceral passion that drove us to each other. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
kisses that followed were long and deep with tongues penetrating and mouths
fixed. Our crotches, pressed tightly together, gave rise an urgent necessity. Though
it was raw and unsettling the force of continued to expand. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Please,
don’t stop?” I whispered almost thoughtlessly. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
suddenly whipped me around so I was bent over the counter. Pushed my
floor-length flowered skirt to the floor, he exposed my naked behind.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">“My,
you are quite the slut, aren’t you?” he murmured in my ear. He said it with a
degree of admiration that made the comment sound like a compliment. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
responded by shoving my wiggling crotch against his groin. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes, I was every bit the slut!</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">Because
it was handy, I suppose, he picked a carafe of olive oil and drizzled some
between my ass cheeks. I knew where he was going – just as he had during the orgy.
He rubbed the oil deeply into my crack, aiming for the tight rosette he
previously fucked. The foreplay was brief, only what was necessary to have me
lubricated and ready. As his hand slid away, his cock slipped into my rear door,
penetrating as far as his hard erection would go. Then with a demanding force
and very little finesse, the fucking rhythm began and swiftly built to a critical
peak. I rarely come quickly when fucked in the ass; it usually takes a lot more
teasing than we engaged in that day. But everything about him from the feel of
his hands clutching my ass cheeks to his breath upon neck to the rapid action
of his cock pummeling my back door brought us to an abrupt and explosive ending.
At the moment I came, every nerve in my body fired off at once. How Tony did
it, I have no idea. But he seemed to hit every sexual hot button as if he’d
been screwing me for years. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">I’ve
always wondered if my screaming and Tony’s guttural groaning could be heard
from outside the glass walls. Certainly we could be seen if there was someone
passing by. I shuddered from that thought alone. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When
the physical climax hit, I thought we were finished as soon as the spasms began
to ease off. However, in one final move, Tony reached around and found my
throbbing clit. He pressed it between his fingers, pinching firmly until I was spasming
crazily and wiggling my rear end into his groin. At last, his cock slid out. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">Although
the sex was over, we remained locked together for several minutes before we
finally broke apart. When we did, a very different sort of longing rose up inside
me. I have no idea what that was. There certainly were words to describe the
feelings that passed between us. Perhaps something from another lifetime
bleeding through into this one. Perhaps. Its very nature defies explanation,
but I felt oddly and very deeply satisfied by that random fuck. As if it was meant
to be.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh,
my god!” I whispered under my breath. “What did we just do?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">I
turned to face Tony, blushing like a tender bride, though I was not tender nor
was I a bride. We were face to face, our bodies still so close that I feel his
breath on my cheek and the heat emanating from his body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
fucked you in the ass,” he stated simply. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes,
I know.” </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">“And
it was good.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of
course it was.” </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>His
next remark brought me up short. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’ll
have to tell him.” </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Tell him? Damon?</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">The
thought hadn’t even entered my mind.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
gazed back at him doubtfully, to which his eyes narrowed, looking so
intimidating that wanted to back away, even though I was still backed up
against the kitchen counter. “You don’t tell him, I will.” I had no doubt that he
would. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">“Of
course I will.” Even I could hear the hesitation in my voice.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">“I
mean it!” he said, just to be sure I knew that he was serious.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
waited a moment, then swiped a kitchen towel from the drain board, turned me
about and wiped away the cum leaking from my ass. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">“So,
what does this mean? You and me… ” I wondered aloud as I turned back.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 0in; tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He
thought a moment. “It means we were horny. It means that fidelity is not all
that important to either of us.” He shrugged. “It means that we enjoyed the
last half hour. At least I did.” His face had finally softened and his meager smile
broadened into a full grin. </span></span></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:DoNotShowComments/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/>
<w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
<w:Word11KerningPairs/>
<w:CachedColBalance/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:-.25in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:0in;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
text-align:center;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
</style>
<![endif]--><br />Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-68379004516454907542019-05-31T13:20:00.000-04:002019-05-31T13:20:01.892-04:00With grateful thanks...<b><i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Speaking from the heart...</span></i></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(Keep reading for a story from my BDSM novel Scandal For Sale, promised in my last post, January 9, 2018.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After a lengthy hiatus, it's been a long journey back into the erotica world, a world that was once intimately familiar to me. In 1989 when I wrote my first novel <u>Alexandra's Awakening</u>, I was one of the lone voices penning erotic fiction in the United States. There was no internet at the time, and only a handful of markets were available for the kind of kinky fiction I liked to write. I was lucky to have my first awkwardly written novels published by New York publishers, and lucky to take those first successes and turn them into a profitable publishing company that thrived for nearly 20 years. Most importantly, I was fortunate to have so many fans and readers with like fantasies write to me, encourage me and faithfully continue to purchase my books. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Bottomline, this is a post about gratitude.</i> My thanks to all the readers who, whether they loved or hated what I wrote, were willing to take a chance on the work of an untried author who harbored more fantasy they she ever could have imagined. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Since 2012, (when my personal life crashed into grief) I've been back to this blog only sporadically. I published one new work in 2014, that I believe was one of my best...although it received little notice. (That would be <a href="http://lizbethdusseau.blogspot.com/2014/05/spontaneous-combustion-novel.html"><u>Spontaneous Combustion</u></a>...hit the link if you'd like to read a short excerpt from this work that was posted when the novel was released) In my disappointment over that experience, I walked away from writing erotica to explore new possibilities for my life... and have found many. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Doors have opened in the last couple years and a new me has emerged. However, it's clear to me that one common thread remains through all the changes during the thirty years of my career...<i>I love to write. And I especially love to write about women and sex and the men that they love. </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This post may be the beginning of regular posts, highlighting my old books and introducing my new work...I make no promises, but I look forward to being back in a world I love and sharing my work with old and new readers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">(By the way, there's much to do on this blog to make it current. When my company was bought out in 2016, the brand name was kept alive with the founding of Pink Flamingo Media. I'll have more about this soon. This means that most of of the links to my books in the blog posts need to be updated to the current website. It's going to take a while before that's all done. In the meantime, there are many great free stories and excerpts on this blog for you to enjoy. If you have any interest in knowing more about the books from which the excerpts are taken, check my complete catalog at:</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> <a href="https://www.pinkflamingo.com/Lizbeth-Dusseau_c73.htm">Pink Flamingo Media</a>)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And now...that sexy excerpt from Scandal For Sale...</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:DoNotShowComments/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/>
<w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
<w:Word11KerningPairs/>
<w:CachedColBalance/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
am home from the most extraordinary night of my life. </span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s almost midnight, but I can’t
sleep. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I arrived at Judge Perdue’s having no
clue what he had in mind. His house is old, an English Tudor with a gnarled
doorpost and ivy crawling up the sides like snakes. A gargoyle sits on the
doorstep—a warning for those about to enter. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He was so gracious, as was his wife,
Mrs. Perdue. She laid her hands on me as she took my coat, being motherly with
eyes as wise as an owl’s. I could tell she could see through me, although. I’m
sure the two had discussed me in detail. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“My, how lovely she is!” the woman
exclaimed to her husband, as if I were a piece of fine china. The woman is
handsome, over forty, with <i>the look </i>for fortyish women—collected, cool
and in control, just like the man she married. She is a mature clone of my
roommate and much more appealing. I wanted her to hold me for a long while. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We entered their living room, which
seemed innocuous enough. I’m not sure what I expected—racks and chains I
suppose. But there were none. I was sure that I had completely misjudged the
invitation to dinner, as my imagination took flight in kinky fantasy. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Judge Perdue sat in his judicial
looking chair, while she on the sofa. I was offered a small upholstered chair
that could hardly hold my ass—which is not big at all. I know now there was a
method behind their plans. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Some tea?” Mrs. Perdue asked. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes, ma’am,” I said to be polite. She
served three cups of Orange Pekoe tea, and we settled back to talk.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“A slave would take the floor,” the
Judge started, and I turned to him. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My tummy was in knots. Was this what
he wanted me to do? Sit on the floor? I was too scared to ask. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“A slave in the presence of their
owner would only wear clothes if they were instructed to do so. They would wear
only what was provided.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My gut wrenched again. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“A slave would pleasure in
humiliation, offer their body for inspection, allow themselves to be used in
any way their owner desires, and consent to any sexual activity, public or
private that was demanded of them. A slave would obey. Disobedience and
hesitation would be punished, with punishment cruelly administered until the
slave’s behavior had been transformed to obedience.” </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He cleared his throat while I absorbed
these amazing thoughts. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This is what is expected of you,”
Judge Purdue told me. “If this is the vision that you have of yourself, then
you can have it,” he paused, looking somewhat unsure if he wanted to add, “with
me.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You, Sir?” My eyes bugged out, while
my stomach flipped again. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’ve given away your desires a
dozen times, Miss Lourdes.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I knew this. He hardly had to tell me.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Do you want to spend your life
waiting to have what you desire, wishing, hoping, thinking about it,
masturbating to the thoughts that grip your soul? Or, do you want to choose
slavery and learn what it means?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He was serious. This was no game, no
innocent inquiry, no judicious study of a bizarre societal practice he offered,
but real slavery.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
can’t believe now what I said. What I committed to tonight. I said, yes, a
stunning, clearly distinct, YES. I answered in the affirmative with this steady
voice so unlike myself. To my great admission, Judge Perdue nodded and Mrs.
Perdue smiled. They seemed to know long before I made my commitment what my
answer would be. I barely knew these two, and I was pledging myself to them! To
intimacy. To total exposure. To a world a barely knew. Was I mad or just
honoring what I’d desired my whole life? </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>With this simple formality over, I sat
back and listened to the Judge’s long monologue. The words fly by me now, not
fit for memory, but the gist of my agreement was spelled out clearly. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I will be his owned slave until school
dismisses in the spring—at which time our agreement will be reviewed. If I am
still wanting with my whole heart, the binding between us becomes more
permanent. I will be his slave until he releases, sells or gives me away. <i>Sells?
Gives me away?</i> I consent to give up my liberty. To give him my thoughts to
mold, my body to use and my life to dictate. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I cannot believe how much these
agreements parallel the wickedness that has been hidden so long inside my
fierce denial. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I will remain in school taking courses
he agrees to. For a time, I’ll stay in the dorm with my roommate and spend only
the hours he designates at his home. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I can tell this is my trial. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My hand shakes as I write these words…my
fingers can hardly work. The raw excitement of my evening lingers with me
leaving every nerve in me on edge.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="StyleJustified">
<br /></div>
<div class="StyleJustified">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Miss Lourdes, please stand.” He said
this quietly, yet his order seemed to clap like thunder through my body. His
eyes were glorious, brilliantly passionate as they inspected me from the tip of
my head to my toes. Then he said quiet simply. “Remove your clothes.”</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><a href="https://www.pinkflamingo.com/Scandal-for-Sale-ebook-PF1044e.htm?categoryId=-1">Ebook </a><a href="https://www.pinkflamingo.com/Scandal-for-Sale-PF1044.htm?categoryId=-1">Paperback</a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-21293408989103781862018-01-09T16:28:00.001-05:002018-01-09T16:28:19.875-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gPeCBs1iQxM/WlUv_Lfl-fI/AAAAAAAABJw/dd29go2dCRsxrnJrARu9TfxDkqDrijeNACLcBGAs/s1600/Scandal-For-Sale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="288" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gPeCBs1iQxM/WlUv_Lfl-fI/AAAAAAAABJw/dd29go2dCRsxrnJrARu9TfxDkqDrijeNACLcBGAs/s320/Scandal-For-Sale.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: large;">Returning to my blog at last...</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After two and half years, I'm back online! Much has changed in my life during this time. <br /><br />Pink Flamingo Publications is now Pink Flamingo Media, but much remains the same. All my erotica titles are still available in downloadable ebooks, and in paperback. <br /><br />Check out the new website, not only for my own erotic fiction, but erotica from over 60 authors. You'll find over 450 titles, Maledom BDSM, Femdom, LGBT, fetish and general erotica. Though the site is new, the address remains the same: www.pinkflamingo.com<br /><br />Please note: The links inside my blog pages will have changed, but you can easily search for my books by name, or see the entire listing of my titles on my Author page on the site. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have just completed a revision of my novel Scandal for Sale. For information about this title <a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/Scandal-for-Sale-ebook-PF1044e.htm?categoryId=-1" target="_blank">click here</a>. I'll be posting a new excerpt soon. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I'll will be posting more hot & sexy erotica excepts for you to enjoy in the coming weeks. As always, I welcome your feedback and comments. <br /><br />Wishing you all a happy 2018! Lizbeth</span></span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-76886198218524162902015-06-19T15:19:00.002-04:002019-05-22T14:04:46.167-04:00Into The Dark Wilds...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vQKRFlRxzGE/VYRinOdY5xI/AAAAAAAABFA/0ycqZKpqABc/s1600/Into-The-Dark-Wilds-ebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vQKRFlRxzGE/VYRinOdY5xI/AAAAAAAABFA/0ycqZKpqABc/s320/Into-The-Dark-Wilds-ebook.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've taken a break from blogging over the last couple months, but now with some newly updated novels just released, I'm back to talk about my erotic fiction. There's no better novel to begin with than a story set far into the future, about two women who dared to defy the conventions of the time and make their mark in worlds where sexuality is strictly monitored and women's voices are silenced by those in control. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Into The Dark Wilds</span></span></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">About the novel: </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"In another lifetime I'll return," the bawdy blonde wrote at the close
of her blasphemous journal. In that other time, Chloe Duchet pulls that
banned volume from the archives of an antique shop and begins to read
about Rowena, whose life as a sex slave and prophetess changed the
world for a hundred years. Choosing the life of sexual submission, Chloe follows
in her mentor's footsteps, seeking the same lusty satisfaction that Rowena knew. In this novel I write about taboos and forbidden lust, of sex
kinky clubs and government sanctioned punishment, of a society that lives in
its extremes, the dark and light designed never to meet. The
pleasure and pain of their incomparable lives, along with the remarkable
connection the two women share in their rebellious choices, has made this one of my favorite novels. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For more information <a href="https://www.pinkflamingo.com/Into-the-Dark-Wilds-PF1020.htm?categoryId=-1" target="_blank">click here: paperback.</a></span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">An Excerpt: </span></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Along a row of dusty books in the archives of Gatov’s shop, I found the slim volume between a 21st century historical treatise and a book of poetry—Yeats the poet’s name on the spine of the yellowed piece. Pulling out the journal I wanted, the pages of Yeats fell like dry leaves to the bare oak floor. I stooped nervously to pick them up and shove them back into their cloth cover. Replacing the poetry, I tucked the journal under my arm and ambled into the depths of the store, keeping a furtive eye out for anyone who might have followed me. Though that prospect was unlikely, I was still wise to keep my activity a secret. I’d seen this journal once before, that time only capturing a single glance at Rowena’s illicit prose when the book had been waved in front of my curious eyes, denounced as one stepping-stone on society’s pathway to hell. To have found another copy of her journal in my brief lifetime made it seem as if I was predestined to hear her message regardless of the judgment heaped upon it. It’s as though Rowena calls to me from the past, from my grandmother’s generation. I often imagine that she speaks to me alone. <br /><br />With fingers trembling, I opened the frayed pages afraid that they might turn to dust before I could read the printed words. There in the dark corner of Gatov’s shop I began to read. Sinking down in a corner window seat, where just a shard of sun struck the opening page, I read with exhilarating expectation her first words. <br /><br />. . . As the 22nd century dawned, I was hawked as “good, used wares” in a Prussian storefront. Flaxen hair, unblemished skin, breasts to pour over for hours, and an ass that will take whatever abuse a master chooses to heap on it both inside and out, so the advertisement for me read. <br /><br />Boheme bought me for silver, the second time I was sold as a sexual slave. Though perhaps it’s wise to recount when I was first purchased, for it might shed some light on my frame of mind as I enter into this new arrangement . . .<br /><br />At that time I was bought by Charlie Hustle, when the Agreements were first allowed, when there were still protest marches against slavery, but when slaves like me were beginning to find personal liberty through the collars and chains we’d chosen to wear. <br /><br />Charlie was loose with me. I was educated at the cocks of thieves and murderers, who would have murdered me if I hadn’t been such a willing slave. There were still so many women on the slave market that had been coerced, blackmailed and quite literally forced into servitude, usually for economic reasons. I suppose I was initially no different from my sister slaves. My benefactor, Ryne, picked me up in a bar, knowing I was ripe for the marketplace, a runaway with easy standards and a fresh though not virgin body. Ryne had no idea where I came from, or that he could be jailed in a heartbeat if the wrong person discovered whose daughter he’d brought into the trade. He didn’t ask questions and I didn’t give him any answers. <br /><br />Ryne bought me the black dress and the string of pearls I wore when he thrust me on the stage at the auction. The only explanation he gave me was I was on my way out of poverty. “Use yourself well, you’ll be sitting on gold if you’re any good.” I knew I wasn’t poor and I didn’t care about gold. My needs for this life have a much deeper meaning, even if the meaning is still unfolding day to day.<br /><br />That day, I remember how the lights blinded my eyes, a dozen fixed on me and four other women who walked along the runway, while men beyond the lights decided whether they’d make a purchase, or wait for the next auction and better flesh. I don’t know the fate of the other women since I was led to a private booth where Charlie Hustle waited to inspect me. He asked me to take off the dress. It was a size too small, and I had to struggle with the zipper on the side. There were beads of sweat running down my back, like the pearls that hung between my breasts in front. The room was hot, and Charlie’s eyes only added to that heat. I stood before him in nothing save that fake strand of beads and black ankle boots. <br /><br />“You’ve had more than one man?” he asked, feeling my crotch—I assume to see if I was still a virgin, which, of course, I was not. <br /><br />“Yes,” I answered, feeling embarrassed by this exploration, but not ungrateful for the rousing massage. <br /><br />“Several?”<br /><br />“Three,” I replied.<br /><br />“Lovers or just fucks?” he asked.<br /><br />“One was a lover, the others were not.”<br /><br />He pressed his fingers to my bum hole. Turning me to the side he pushed me down so I was bent over. He pawed me like meat, shoving several fingers inside my tight rear channel. <br /><br />“Taken here?” he asked.<br /><br />“No.”<br /><br />“That can be handled. How about your mouth, you suck cock?”<br /><br />“Once,” I admitted.<br /><br />“You’ll get used to it. How about trussed?”<br /><br />“Excuse me?”<br /><br />“Tied, bound, manacled?”<br /><br />“No, never.”<br /><br />“Whipped?”<br /><br />“Not for sex.”<br /><br />“How would you feel about that?” he asked me.<br /><br />“I don’t know.”<br /><br />“You like pain?” Seizing a nipple between two fingers he squeezed it, then twisted it until I cried. “You’ll get used to that, too.”<br /><br />I thought he’d use my ass that afternoon the way he kept probing me there. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I realized then the personal reward that anal sex would bring, though the opening was dry, untested and seriously tight. When he stopped I sighed my relief.<br /><br />Charlie bought me as a gift for his friends and business associates, not that he didn’t use me himself. Almost every day I brought him off, often with my mouth or in my ass—he broke me in to that. But never in my cunt. All the things he’d asked me about in our interview, bondage, whipping and pain, weren’t his fantasy. He just wanted to be sure I wouldn’t decline his friends their own pleasure. It’s a good thing I liked it rough, those thugs were chilling at times. I was strung up to rafters and flogged, my pussy pelted with shots from leather straps, my limbs bound in a dozen ways, and of course I was sexually used by these men with hungry appetites for the sexually demeaning and grotesque. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />My initial response was shock. My world so far was pale in its rendition of the sexual act—just open thighs and a thrusting prick and that was all there was to it. I didn’t realize until the day I was first strung up and flogged that I had a sexual response of my own. I have to give the perpetrator credit, he was incredibly astute in the art of discipline and pain, not like many of the others who followed him. He had bulging muscles, which I watched him oil so that they gleamed in the light of the dank cellar where I was tied. I don’t remember his scent. But the smell of leather and burning lamp oil permeated the stonewalled room with such a pungent aroma, I’ll always remember that combination with a sexual jolt.<br /><br />He used a cat on my flesh, in-between whispered words that cast a spell of darkness about my brain. I found an empty place in me where strange and inexplicable thoughts emerge. As he spoke, speaking to me in words dripping with lust, about how he was going to love me into pleasure, he slowly drew the talons over my anxious skin, delicately. When he finished, he snapped the lashes, letting them strike so deep I cried. Then, with the handle of his tool, he prodded me between my legs, making me dance on the laced strips of leather as though I were dancing on a cock. He shoved it against the opening, as if he expected it to be submerged by my flesh, swallowed whole. But that handle was much too big to penetrate my lady-like orifice. <br /><br />Unlike the men who followed him, he took his time. I thought it hours, but had no way to judge. My flesh cried out for more as my body peaked. I didn’t want to go over the edge so quickly because there in my mindless physical bliss, I saw more than stars and fireworks. A blank darkness hit my heart. Like having opened a door to another world, I wanted to walk around in that unreality, wherever in my psyche it resided. But the climax came and died away, and there was just the dank room and the shiny-skinned master awaiting his finale. Untied afterwards and slumping to the floor, I brought his erection into my mouth and savored each drop of semen that spilled out on my lips. <br /><br />He was the best in my initiation to sexual slavery. The rest who followed did much the same with ropes and whips and cocks, but none with the finesse of this man. My gratitude for his careful attention remains with me for it was the first clue that this occupation would take me to unexpected places. <br /><br />With his words prompting me, I learned to receive humiliation and pain and find the physical triumph in that. I learned that I was made for this kind of life, when before it had been little more than a kid’s prank. This one dominant man made all the abuse at the hands of Charlie Hustle’s indigent accomplices something that inspired me. I’m sure I wouldn’t have known even half the satisfaction I’ve realized if I hadn’t submitted to those delicious whispers. I’d have never known the first stirrings of that otherworldly dimension floating inside my thoughts. <br /><br />“Ah! My cherie, feel my heart against you and my groin. Beat with me. Let the pulse overwhelm you. Dive down. Faint. Let me inside you. Beat with me”<br /><br />Even as I write those words they have the power to woo me to sex and engage my aspirations to greater things than me alone.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Copyright (c) Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permission. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vQKRFlRxzGE/VYRinOdY5xI/AAAAAAAABE8/-DFC9X5EB2M/s1600/Into-The-Dark-Wilds-ebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-75524902817537187282015-04-24T16:21:00.001-04:002015-04-24T16:36:17.343-04:00Jungle Fever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EDRwnrChsWU/VTqYchL3yGI/AAAAAAAABD8/unF6ciXyOsw/s1600/9781936173617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EDRwnrChsWU/VTqYchL3yGI/AAAAAAAABD8/unF6ciXyOsw/s1600/9781936173617.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/>
<w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
<w:Word11KerningPairs/>
<w:CachedColBalance/>
</w:Compatibility>
<w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" Name="footer"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="//img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" />
<style>
st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }
</style>
<![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A fantasy story set in 1920's, in the era of early, silent stag films. The young actress, Violet, posing as an innocent femme fatale...in the middle of a steamy Mexican jungle...knows what she's required to do. But is this savage scene more than the fainting beauty bargained for? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Excerpt from my novel Innocence Defiled</span></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For more information about this novel, check out my Pink Flamingo Website </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: .3in; text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Violet wasn’t used to bugs and creepy crawly things, exotic birds that screeched at midnight and the darkness of the wind-whipped jungle. The heat was miserable and it took but a few hours after her arrival in Mexico for her to feel the grimy dirt sticking to her flushed skin. Baths were drawn for her morning and night, with water carried from a stream and heated over the fire, but they did little to cleanse away the uncomfortable feeling. An hour after drying off in her tent, she was back to feeling sticky and sour.<br /><br /> Much to Lionel’s fury, it took three days before the entire cast and the movie crew arrived the Mexican jungle—something about the cargo plane getting held up at the airport by a band of guerillas searching for contraband: i.e. guns. Other than checking the light and the speed of the film, and scouting out the right locations, there was little for the director to do until the entire company had assembled.<br /><br /> Violet spent the long hours of waiting in her tent reading books. The less time she spent in the jungle the happier she was.<br /><br /> On the fourth morning, Violet’s hunger pangs drove her quickly from bed. She dressed in haste and emerged from her tent looking for a bite to eat and a fresh cup of coffee. Considering the primitive nature of the campground, the cook, who had flown in with her and Lionel, was able to furnish decent food, in fact better than decent food. Where he found the energy to work in the terrible heat over a hot fire was a mystery to the actress and everyone else.<br /><br /> As she took a steaming mug of coffee back to her tent, along with a plate of scrambled eggs and fruit, she heard Lionel shouting to his crew. Though she’d paid little attention to the man since arriving at their location, she suspected from his anxious shouts that the rest of the crew had finally arrived.<br /><br /> “Miss Atherton,” Lionel called to her before she could disappear into her tent.<br /><br /> She turned around to see him standing some twenty feet away. “Yes, Mister Rains?” “We’ll have the full crew on site in about thirty minutes. In about an hour, I want you in your costume and ready to go. Florence will be in to fix your hair.”<br /><br /> “So, today’s the day,” her placid face finally broke a smile while a delightful tickle of excitement raced through her body.<br /><br /> “Yes, today’s the day,” he confirmed before he took off toward the jungle airstrip.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Unlike the previous movie with a simple set in Lionel’s living room, this film was a lot more complicated to produce. As Violet understood the script, she was to imagine herself on a hunting expedition with her husband, through a remote and dangerous jungle. At some point, the party would be raided by an indigenous tribe and, screaming in panic, Violet would be filmed running through the jungle. Eventually she’d be captured and the taking would begin. There were few details in the storyline after that point; scripts for stag films didn’t require much more than a simple plot.<br /><br /> When the shooting finally began, Violet sensed the mood in the jungle change. Perhaps it was just the passing clouds that for several minutes blocked even the scant sunrays from reaching the jungle floor. Perhaps the general eeriness of the jungle made her edgy. Perhaps it was knowing that her afternoon would be spent in some vulgarly sexual activity. It was difficult to say exactly what gave Violet such a case of nerves, but she certainly had the jitters. When Lionel handed her a shot of whiskey, she didn’t hesitate to gulp it down. Though she hated the taste, the effect was worth the price. In seconds, her head had begun to swim and her nerves were calmed, at least until the liquor wore off.<br /><br /> “More?” he asked, holding out the bottle.<br /><br /> “No, that should do the trick.” She flashed the director a smile and then proceeded to follow him through the jungle.<br /><br /> <br /><br />The actual movie set was created some distance from the camp set up for the actors and crew. Beside a canvas tent much like the one she’d been sleeping in, Violet was to sit at a collapsible writing table and pretend to be writing letters to friends at home. She was dressed rather strangely for an adventurous expedition of this sort, wearing a long white dress that would have been perfectly appropriate for a summer barbecue in the Hamptons, though it was hardly suitable for the jungle. The filmy gown was, however, perfect for a stag film, which suggested that the point of the movie easily won out over authenticity in costuming. At least the dress was airy and comfortable in the miserable heat, even if Violet felt a little silly, looking as if she’d just stepped out for a casual stroll through a city park. All she needed was a pretty parasol to twirl on her shoulder.<br /><br /> Florence, who was in charge of costumes, make-up and hair for the entire cast, had earlier entered her tent with a brown wig that was fashioned in a short style, requiring Violet’s blonde hair to be pinned up underneath. The wig was quite tight and uncomfortable, but the director had been quite clear that even in the likely scuffle that would take place during the filming, the wig must stay in place.<br /><br /> “You’ll probably have a headache before this is finished,” Florence advised her. “But then, what’s a little discomfort for the sake of art, hum?”<br /><br /> “You call this art?” Violet laughed.<br /><br /> “Well,” the older woman smirked, “I try to put it in a favorable light, honey. It’s the best we can do.” Florence was a big blowsy woman with over-dyed hair tied up in a messy chignon and way too much make-up. Perhaps her painted look was suitable for a jungle in which garishly colored birds flitted about from tree to tree. Violet had heard through the gossip mill that Florence was a washed up actress. Probably true. But it didn’t matter to the younger actress. Florence didn’t put on airs, or look down on her in judgment the way the rest of the crew often did.<br /><br /> Although Violet had never actually heard the crude remarks from the male crew members, she saw how they looked at her. She knew there were jokes about her going back and forth amongst the crew, lewd comments behind her back. No doubt, they were speculating about what she’d look like when being taken advantage of… when her clothes were ripped away… and she was accosted by her brute attackers and forced to give up her body for their use. Words of the plot still echoed through her mind, just as Lionel had read them to her from the script.<br /><br /> So far, she was unsure who would be the perpetrators of the ‘act’ itself, but that was the plan. “There has be a little element of surprise, Miss Atherton,” the director had said when she asked for more specifics. It became hard to escape the feeling that everyone else on the set knew exactly what would happen and with whom, to exactly what extreme degree, while she was left in the dark to worry if she could endure the torrid scene that was demanded.<br /><br /> Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, had been repeating in her mind since she first stepped into the jungle. But it was too late to change her mind now. She’d given Lionel her word.<br /><br /><br />Slightly intoxicated and feeling a little dreamy, Violet sat at the fold-up table on cue and began writing a letter to her cousin in Indiana. Whether it would ever be mailed was not the point, she needed to get in the mood of the scene, and this was one way she could do that and concentrate her energy at the same time.<br /><br /> In the distance, she heard Rains shouting out directions, then the approach of the camera team, and several others moved in fast. Though her anxiety was mounting, she kept her focus, knowing that the commotion was extraneous noise that would never be part of the film. Suddenly jerked by the arm, Violet was pulled from the chair and immediately landed in the dust. Three huge men, one of them very black and almost naked, stood over her while Lionel and crew moved in and filmed the expressions on their faces. For several seconds the camera focused directly on Violet’s terrified eyes. Her mouth was open in a silent scream.<br /><br /> As soon as the director gave the word, the black man jerked her from the ground and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her off through the trees. He ran barefoot through the jungle for about thirty seconds, then in another scripted move, Violet flailed wildly until she finally fell from his arms to the ground. According to the script, and a little prior instruction from Lionel, she scrambled to her feet and took off deep into the jungle, knowing that her attackers were close at her heels. She followed a marked trail that Lionel had forced her to memorize during several run-throughs of the scene. But disoriented from liquor and a mild case of hysteria brought on by the emotions in play, she soon forgot the markers and was flailing blindly through thick stands of tall bamboo and tropical vines. Her face was scratched; her red high heels muddy; and her anxious heart beat at a panicked rate. Caught in a tangle of thorny branches, the white dress tore in several places, turning dingy when dragged across the dirt.<br /><br /> Behind her, the trailing assailants—no longer actors in her mind but primal beasts—moved at a frenzied pace, Rains directing, while cameramen hauling their equipment raced along beside them.<br /><br /> As directed, Violet continued to stumble through the undergrowth in a blind panic. She stared back several times in her race against the elements, then suddenly found herself smashed against an enormous tree. By the time she was able to pull free of the viney vegetation clinging to the tree trunk, the men were on her and Rains was shouting, “Do it now! Take her!”<br /><br /> Working like madmen possessed by the devil, the native black man and two muscled Caucasians had her bound to the tree with thick sisal rope, her arms, her legs and her torso fixed in place so she could barely move a muscle. She stared back into the camera, alarmed and anxious, crying out loud: “Please don’t, please, please let me go. Anything you want, please don’t hurt me…” over and over, tears streaming from her eyes and down her face.<br /><br /> Their hands were large and powerful, their thick palms enough to cover an ass cheek with a single smack, or grab for a breast and maul it till it ached. The first act in the exhilarating scene began with violent smacks against her flesh, the ripping away of the pretty white gown, and the boorish crudeness of the men mauling their bounty. Her naked body emerged from the encounter pale and beautiful against the background of the lush green flora. Thick rope defined her struggle, while the tattered ruins of the white dress clung to the undergrowth like distant memories of a better time in a better place.<br /><br /> Act Two began with Violet’s assailants first feel of her pretty snatch, fingers diving deep between her thighs and inching toward the holy home they intended to violate. There was no civility employed in their exploration, not one but several fingers jammed their way into her back door. The ruthless way they pinched her nether lips and the bud between them made her worry how much damage would be done before the scene was over.<br /><br /> “That’s it… that’s it…” the sound of an animated Rains could be heard through the crazed commotion like a voice from a distant dream in Violet’s mind. “Yes, that’s it…nasty…mean…as vile as you dare…<br /><br /> Her body shrieked, warnings of danger tearing through her. Shrill screams ripped from her throat. This was going farther, faster than she ever dreamed. Three men…three men! How could this ever work!<br /><br /> Please, please… don’t make me do this…” she spoke sincerely now, but the director was far too involved to stop the action and no one would take her pleas seriously.<br /><br /> When the cameramen finally moved in closer, Act Three began. The men moved forward with their assault, discarding the rope that circled her torso so her body could be more easily manipulated.<br /><br /> Her ass was gripped by two powerful hands and pulled back from the safety of the thick tree trunk. She was no longer standing upright, but bent over with her hands and arms still tied to the tree. Her rear cheeks were mauled for several minutes more, then they were roughly jerked apart. To film the scene up close, one cameraman was on the ground shooting the action of the two crotches from pointblank range. Violet’s sex-lips dripped with pussy juice; the thick pink cock was poised to strike; then the rude shove knocked her back against the tree.<br /><br /> Despite all prior anticipation, the sudden shock of the impalement stunned the frazzled actress. She wept more forcefully, grimaced in a way the camera loved, and then began to moan in an especially provocative manner—sounds that would be recorded only by her attackers and those who watched—those who understood that demure little Violet Atherton was only half-acting, and only moderately horrified. The rest of her experienced the scene as a shameless slut. Soon as that big cock began to move in her, the urgent force of the copulation stirred all the wonderful feelings that had surged through her weeks ago when she was taken on Lionel’s living room set. Every forceful shove forward by the brute behind her sent another violent rush of erotic pleasure to the far reaches of her aroused body.<br /><br /> She’d been well-primed, as if Lionel knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what was needed to raise the sexual being behind Violet’s modest exterior. The liquor made the rough stuff go down a little easier and the fucking part she easily enjoyed. The combination of the setting, the men and the innocent girl created such explosive images that, just as it had been during her ‘screen test’, those watching were too amazed to voice a thought.<br /> <br /><br />The moneyman behind the production wanted it all, all of it first rate sex, and that is exactly what the movie man intended to deliver to his client. <br /><br /> That's exactly what he got. Their not so innocent actress was particularly suited for the role.<br /><br /><br />(c) Copyright by Lizbeth Dusseau. All rights reserved. May not be used without permission.<br /><br /><br /></span></div>
Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-38976362133097944262015-04-03T14:07:00.001-04:002015-04-03T14:07:39.186-04:00Forever haunted by his love...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h9CgfjnsiMw/VR6-CusXdvI/AAAAAAAABDc/iBSwgTQcWIs/s1600/21-Sins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h9CgfjnsiMw/VR6-CusXdvI/AAAAAAAABDc/iBSwgTQcWIs/s1600/21-Sins.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In the genre of BDSM erotica, stories arise from many varied places, moods and worlds, from contemporary to historical to science fiction to fantasy. Some stories are deeply rooted in the current protocols of the BDSM lifestyle, which is what many readers look for, in particular, those identifying with the lifestyle itself. And then there are other story lines, as in most of my own BDSM erotica, that toss the kind of caution and rules found in the lifestyle aside and dive deep into the darkest sexual fantasies, into worlds where slaves and submission are part of the culture created in the writer's mind. Reality is suspended for a time while readers are taken into realms they only travel in fantasy. My novel <b>21 Sins</b> is such a story...about a lifetime slave who will lose her master and must make a choice (in this made-up world) between becoming another man's slave or becoming a free woman. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Here's the opening scene from <b>21 Sins</b>... a scene of urgency, savagery and tenderness that is part of the life of this master and his slave. More information about the novel can be found here: <a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/21-Sins.html" target="_blank">click this link</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Excerpt</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">“My beautiful girl,” he whispers in her ear. She clings to the tall, decaying trunk of a dead aspen, where once in a long ago summer, small green leaves quaked, shivering in the airy mountain breeze. She shivers in a similar way, a tremor that starts at the top of her mop-like hair and travels through her firm, naked flesh, becoming more than subtle as it passes through her rounded bare behind. The flesh there is opulent; it’s natural color a pearly hue, sometimes a blush of pink, occasionally bluish when she shivers from the cold. At this moment, however, the color of that rounded, quaking ass has deepened to an angry red. She has been beaten. Even now, as he whispers in her ear as tenderly as a lover would, she feels the hot fire of punishment on her skin. It warms her body and will eventually soothe her spirit in the same way his simple words soothe her. <br /><br />She sighs, expelling a cleansing breath of air as the pain in her body begins to dwindle. <br /><br />“Our days are numbered, just a handful remains,” he tells her. “We have to relish every second.”<br /><br />“No, sir, you’ll not go!”<br /><br />“I have no choice, my darling.”<br /><br />“But without you…” she starts, her voice full of urgency.<br /><br />“Hush,” he stops her. “Without me you’ll remain who you are, guided by those who come after me. They will take you on a different journey, but they will love you, too.”<br /><br />“How can you say that, when you don’t know?” she looks up pleadingly, whispering her objection. “When you won’t be here?” Tears form in the corner of her eyes, threateningly—no different from any other day for the last six months of his illness. <br /><br />“No crying, love,” he softly reprimands. “The end will be on us quickly enough.” She sees the pain in his eyes and how the bright bold color of dominion fades a little more each day. He walks with a cane now, though he still has the fresh exterior of a young and robust man. And for the moment he is with her, feeling the wildness of her sexual spirit unleashed by his brutal whip, he is more alive than in his grave. <br /><br />“The day will come when my tears won’t stop,” she says, with a degree of haughty self-assurance she rarely shows—though it is essential to her make-up, essential for the life she leads. Will, determination and self-control are replete in her complicated personality, just as her desire to suffer, to surrender, to please, and to be this man’s humble slave forever have defined her. <br /><br />Sadly, there will be no ‘forever’ for these two. <br /><br />When he touches her flaming ass with the palm of his hand, the paradox she lives and breathes each day nags at her again. Her master is cruel, a proud sadist in love with the act of beating her, turning her skin into ribbons of red wounds, and watching her writhe under the weight of his floggers and the sting of his whips. Even the way he binds her causes pain, as her wrists are wrapped with thick sisal, which cuts into her tender skin the more she struggles at the whipping post. The cruel elements of nature collide with her this day, as a sharp wind castigates her tormented flesh. She has no idea which sensation to feel as so many batter her body. <br /><br />Now that the whipping has ended, the paradox begins in earnest. Her lover, her master, discards his pompous cruelty in favor of genteel kindness. He kisses her ear, massages her wounded ass, and takes the steamy heat pouring from her crotch and turns it into a climactic surge of orgasmic bliss. She whimpers as she begins to come on his loving hand. She caws and mews. Her body bucks against the post, scratching her pure white breasts on the splintered wood. Yet, she doesn’t care anymore with this climax crashing through her like an angry tiger crashing through the jungle. Her head thrashes back and forth and her lips part as her cries fly aloft like seagulls into the air. Her eyes have brightened into an eerie glow. Then for several seconds, they roll back into their sockets as the ecstasy takes her deeper. Her master’s hand, lodged purposefully between her legs, is flooded by her wetness, bathed in her juices. He holds his fingers to her lips and makes her lick them clean. She cannot resist his touch, disobey or disappoint him. <br /><br />He’s pleased. “Such a good girl you are. Such a survivor.” <br /><br />He talks this way a lot these days… how she is a survivor of her life and every fate that has tried to slap her down. Fate brought her to him. Now fate will take him away from her, but she will remain intact, able to go on being the woman she has become. He is preparing her for his end and her new beginning.<br /><br />When he removes her from the whipping post, she falls to her knees in the mud—a product of last night’s rain across the valley. He snaps the collar and leash around her neck and leads her to a fallen tree, which becomes their makeshift bed. Tying her—arms stretched above her head, her legs wide open—with her wounded backside against the scratchy bark, the pain in her shoulders and ass returns. But he cares little about her comfort; a chameleon to the very end, his sadistic, self-serving desire returns. He straddles the tree trunk between her open thighs and removes his thick erection from his pants. Impaling her in one swift thrust, he begins his last vigorous taking of the slut he’s created. She cries again, and grunts like a common whore, as he stabs her cunt repeatedly. Then she comes one more time as her master takes his pleasure. For an angry, despondent man this is the only joy he knows now. He will savor it to the finish, until the last burst of excitement, the last trickle, the last gasp, the last spasm finally quits his body, and he is done.<br /><br />“Thank you,” he silently whispers as he peers into her hooded gaze. <br /><br />She stares back at him, forever haunted, forever wounded by his love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Copyright (c) 2005 by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permission. </span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-74635603387027427042015-03-27T16:03:00.000-04:002015-03-27T16:20:56.868-04:00Sexy spanking romance...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sCO47zNyz-Y/VRW7XNLzWjI/AAAAAAAABC8/wSwx_gbuyW0/s1600/Off-of-the-Beaten-Path-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sCO47zNyz-Y/VRW7XNLzWjI/AAAAAAAABC8/wSwx_gbuyW0/s1600/Off-of-the-Beaten-Path-web.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>From the novel</b><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">...</span><span style="color: #e69138;"></span></b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #e69138;">Off of the Beaten Path</span></b></span>... </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">this sexy spanking scene, for lovers of strong-willed bratty women and the men who take them in hand. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>About the novel:</b> Spanking Romance. A fiercely independent bush pilot, Ashley, meets her match in Jess Barrow at a research station in the midst of a South American jungle. Jess refuses to let the strong-willed woman ride roughshod over him. He's quick to take Ashley over his lap for a good sound paddling. In a story that takes them out of the jungle and back to civilization, their future seems perpetually ‘up in the air’, but the taste of leather and a bare hand on Ashley's bottom keeps their relationship hot, happy and under control! Available from Pink Flamingo Publications</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b> Excerpt:</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">“My place or yours?” Ashley asked, with a sensuous lilt in her voice.<br /><br /> Jess was practically rock hard between his legs all ready, just looking at her did it to him every time. “I don’t have a place to stay yet, remember? I guess it will have to be yours.”<br /><br /> They strolled through the quaint village after dinner on their way to the small house she kept. She was hardly ever in the place, but she kept it like home with enough personal things to make it feel like one. The front porch had attracted her from the start, since she loved front porches. And when she wasn’t playing bush pilot to remote locations, dead tired or working on the plane, she was rocking in a chair she managed to bring from Caracas on one of her trips to the city.<br /><br /> As she and Jess reached the house, there was an electric chemistry passing back and forth, something so unseen, but so seemingly tangible, it was a surprise that they couldn’t touch it. Just inside the doorway of her house, Jess had his hand on Ashley’s rear, the other hand reaching for her face, so he could lean down and kiss her. The kiss was warm and moist with their tongues making tenuous explorations. Getting to know each other in a new setting like this, it seemed odd to Ashley having him right there in her house. A shiver, something almost imperceptible raced through her. Had he seen it? She wanted to roll all over her bed with him, but for the first time since she could remember, she found herself deferring to a man, to Jess, letting him lead while she followed. It was appropriate and she didn’t know why, but for some reason she knew it was the way it should be with them.<br /><br /> “You going to stay right here and make love to me?” she asked. They hadn’t budged from the doorway.<br /><br /> “We’ll get to other places, you’re just going to have to be patient. I have some other things in mind before we get to bed.”<br /><br /> “Oh, and what are they?” she asked.<br /><br /> Jess pulled away from the attentive kisses. “I thought I’d start with you over my lap, let you really know how I feel about this flight up river you have planned.”<br /><br /> “Oh, no you don’t,” Ashley said pulling further away. She was instantly angry, and suddenly bolted to the far side of the room. “We weren’t going to discuss it,” she reminded him of their previous agreement.<br /><br /> “Oh, I’m discussing nothing, I’m just offering my opinion. Since you like spanking so much, I thought I’d give you my opinion right across your butt.”<br /><br /> “Okay! That’s enough!” she charged in nastily. She was about to disappear into the bedroom, when Jess quickly made his way to her and hauled her back.<br /> “I think it’s time you started to realize that there are people in this world that care about you.”<br /><br /> “Well you have a fine way of showing it,” she snapped.<br /><br /> “Frankly, I think this is exactly what you want me to do.”<br /><br /> “You ass!” she roared. Before she knew what to make of it, Jess pulled her by the arm into the bedroom. He went through her closet, looking for something in particular, finally pulling a brown leather belt from a hook on the wall.<br /><br /> “This should do,” he said, grasping it firmly in his free hand.<br /><br /> He led a wriggling Ashley to the bed, sat down and pulled her over his knee.<br /><br /> “Dammit, Jess!” she shouted. <br /><br /> If it made her feel better to swear like sailor, that was okay with him, he wasn’t about to stop.<br /><br /> “You have no cause!” she wailed again.<br /><br /> “I suppose I don’t, but it’s time someone got through to you, and I guess I’m the one that’s going to do it. Even if this doesn’t stop this foolish trek of yours, at least you’ll know someone cares enough to warn you!”<br /><br /> As he raised Ashley dress, she squirmed vigorously against his lap pushing the skirt back in place. That only made him hold her more tightly with his arm firmly grasping her around her waist. Just for good measure, he pinned her hands against her back.<br /><br /> “Stop it!” she shouted.<br /><br /> He pulled up her dress again to reveal a pair of pale blue panties underneath. Yanking them down with his right hand, he worked the tight cotton garment to the bottom of her rear, revealing the two luscious mounds of flesh he loved so well. He could think of nothing better than to make them blush wild red. Maybe then she’d get the point!<br /><br /> Picking up the belt, he doubled it into the perfect tool for punishment; and with a passionate smack, he laid the first of what would be many brisk smacks across the struggling blonde’s bottom cheeks.<br /><br /> “No, damn you!” she wailed.<br /><br /> Ignoring her cries, and her attempts to wriggle away, he laid the belt across her bottom three times. <br /><br /> “Stop it!” she demanded – as if that would dissuade him.<br /><br /> Jess paused to watch the red imprint of four lines red appear on the surface of her skin. He laid another two against her bottom, seeing the tantalizing jiggle of her cheeks arouse him with their rosy appearance.<br /><br /> “Ouch, stop, this hurts,” she exploded again.<br /><br /> He continued on, having decided that his belt was a most effective weapon against the rear of a bratty woman. With another several smacks, one right over top of the other in the center of her posterior, she wailed louder than ever. She kicked her feet and tried desperately to loosen his grip. Nothing worked.<br /><br /> “Jess, I hate you!” she screamed.<br /><br /> Though Ashley was like a mad woman gone berserk, it was curious that she wasn’t more effective with her fervent rally. As determined as she seemed to be, it was a wonder that she couldn’t have propelled herself off Jess’s lap. Made him wonder if she really wanted to bolt or just wanted to put on a good show. <br /><br /> She wiggled and squirmed, but didn’t get away. She howled with each new smack as if he was killing her. And the truth was, this was hardly more cruel than the hand spanking he’d given her the week before. <br /><br /> Again she cried, “Stop it, now! You fuckin ass!” Though the quality of her protest had changed. She’d begun to sob. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and her legs no longer kicked as hard as before. “Oh, please, Jess,” she pleaded, now sounding so mournful that he was almost moved to stop. But he didn’t. She might have been changing her tune, but he wanted to be sure that he got the message.<br /><br /> By then, her bottom was red top to bottom. The crimson on her cheeks looked raw and splotchy, and few rough spots looked as though they might show up on her bottom hours after the spanking was over.<br /><br /> “Oh, Please!” There was clearly something in the spitfire Ashley that had relented, and Jess began to ease up. Her emotions were much less fierce, and it seemed as if in some way, she’d worked something out over his lap, in-between the pain of the belt’s hearty whacks.<br /><br /> “Had enough?” he asked, finally dropping the leather to the floor. Ashley collapsed against him exhausted. Though even in the middle of her exhaustion, there was the most terrific feeling surging though her reluctant body.<br /><br /> The two pulled up on the bed together, Ashley letting Jess hold her, as much a triumph for him as spanking her. She usually refrained from too much simple intimacy, but this time she seemed content. They remained silent for a time, while she let out her last sobs, and Jess let himself bask in the closeness of her beautiful body.</span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-9999063326223308182015-02-27T12:05:00.001-05:002015-02-27T12:05:05.972-05:00Man With The Leash<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Some years ago, while doing some investigative research at a ‘vanilla’ sex club, my husband and I observed a remarkable scene of sexual submission. After all the many BDSM scene related experiences I have witnessed or been involved with since, this amazing incident remains one of the most stunning examples of true dominance and submission that I have ever witnessed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-size: large;">Man With The Leash by Lizbeth Dusseau</span></span><br />Copyright © 2003, all rights reserved, may not be used without permission<br /></span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He moved with urgent purpose through the smoky nightclub, leaving a wake of mystery and wonder, dropping hints of the unusual scene about to knock this vanilla sex club on its ear. Though he dressed simply, in pressed slacks and starched open-collared shirt, his mannerisms made one think of arrogant executives wielding power: the chiseled jaw, the darting eyes, the shameless ego. Jaws dropped—at least figuratively—as his girl, a surrendering plain-faced brunette, moved with him, behind him, collared and tethered to a leash, exhibiting a behavioral abnormality rarely seen in any world but theirs. <br /><br /> In charge for one astounding hour, the man had his stage, his audience in rapt attention and his actress under his command. While he aimed for a particular end, an explicit need only he understood, she was the embodiment of sensuous resignation, diverting her eyes, except when he demanded that she look directly at him. She was dressed as simply as the man who held the leash, wearing a slim black skirt, a dark tee-shirt that buttoned up the front, and black, leather boots that fit tight around her ankles. Her brunette hair was blunt cut and shoulder length. And while flat-chested, her hard nipples strained the fabric of her shirt, revealing a basic, almost boyish beauty in her simple look. Her passive face would be hard to remember, difficult to pick out in a crowd, but her aura was not likely forgotten by anyone in the club that night, as garish overstatement gave way to an exhibition of unpretentious surrender.<br /><br /> The pair moved effortlessly through the crowd toward the center of the main lounge, where the atmosphere of erotic expectation was thick and unsettling. Those present were primed for sex, for a night of hedonistic abandon, and yet, their sexual anticipation hid behind casual postures, teasing glances and nervous negotiations that eventually, as the night wore on, would become less timid and more direct. In truth, liquor did a lot to loosen inhibitions in this sex club, something the startling newcomers would do with their exhibition alone.<br /><br /> Indifferent to the bodies milling around him, the man with the leash shoved his collared chattel forward to a tiny dance stage and whispered in her ear commands only she could hear. Dropping the tether, he backed off and, along with a crowd of growing admirers, watched as she lifted her tee-shirt and mindlessly massaged her tiny tits. Her eyes never strayed from a spot at his feet, as she pulled her nipples brutally and bit her lip when the pain darted downward to her groin. <br /><br /> “Move on,” he prompted her with some impatience. <br /><br /> Her cue, she lifted her skirt, exhibiting thick tan legs and a bare shaved pussy, already glossy with a layer of moisture. <br /><br /> Then, as if her performance was not enough, the man moved in close, whispering again. The girl immediately dropped to her hands and knees as he stepped back and focused critically on every exacting move she made, and nothing else—as if the two were alone in the room and the rest of the world had disappeared, and there were not thirty pairs of eyes witnessing in horrific wonder. He watched her as she raised her skirt above her tight ass, as she massaged the cheeks with her hand and ran her fingers down the crevice, drawing the wetness from her pussy toward the tight rosette of her anus. She tucked her chin to her chest, hiding her face, along with the lust in her eyes and her parted panting sensuous lips. Faceless, she was her body and nothing more—his body to command.<br /><br /> Her willingness advanced his plan. Inspired, he crouched beside her, picked up the leash and held it in his fist. While she continued her play, he jerked the chain, annoyingly tugging at the collar and her neck. Tiny, sensuous gasps escaped her lips, but there was not a word of protest. She wouldn’t dare. Burying his free hand in her hair, he grabbed the brown locks and twisted them inside his gripping fingers. <br /><br /> “Tell me you want more,” he whispered, so that only she and those close by could hear. <br /><br /> “More,” she instantly answered him in a soft pleading shudder. <br /><br /> “Tell me ‘harder,’” he insisted.<br /><br /> “Harder, sir,” she answered.<br /><br /> He sneered derisively, dismissively, “I should just leave you here and let them take your sorry ass.” Giving her head one last brutal shake, he then let go, pushed off and rose to his feet. He hung onto the leash with his one hand and tugged. “This way.” Pulling her from one subservient act to the next, he led her toward the tables where a dazzling blonde in a pink silk slip sipped rum and coke. <br /><br /> “Do you mind?” he asked the woman. <br /><br /> The blonde looked up at him amazed but clearly intrigued. Then with a mischievous smile, she nodded and raised the slip to her knees, opening her thighs in welcome. <br /><br /> “Please her,” the man with the leash crisply ordered his brunette.<br /><br /> The girl moved with caution but deliberately, stopping inside the V of the blonde’s legs. Rising to her knees, she ran her palms along the silk-covered thighs and the curve of the tart’s lush hips, upward to her breasts, where she lovingly grasped both and gently kneaded the plush cushions she found inside her hands. <br /><br /> “That’s what real tits should feel like,” the man above her chided her own inadequate equipment.<br /><br /> A tremor of regret passed across the brunette’s face as she heard him speak, yet she continued to pleasure the lovely blonde, scooting further inside the woman’s legs. Drawing the heavy breasts from inside the silk, she suckled the abundant flesh with parted lips, then wetted the pretty nipples with her tongue and blew warm air to make them knot as tightly as her own small buds. <br /><br /> “Oh, honey, you can do that more,” the woman purred, while reaching out to gratefully stroked the brunette’s hair. Her eyes glimmered darkly. “And lower,” she urged in a voice simmering and erotic.<br /><br /> The girl hesitated just long enough for the man in command to give the leash an impatient tug. Continuing now with determination, her hands caressed their way down the pink silk until they moved inside and underneath. As if she were opening a Valentine gift, the brunette carefully pulled up the slip, uncovering a plush snatch of pale pink skin and a neatly trimmed triangle of wispy blonde curls. Her head moved down into the redolent valley, with her lips and tongue leading her again. While holding the outer labia open with her fingers, she explored with her mouth until with a sudden and urgent abandon, she began frantically flicking the hood of the blonde’s blood-swollen clit. <br /><br /> It would seem that a hundred soft sighs were heard in hushed sequence around the humid, smoky room. No one dared move but the girl on the floor, whose head bobbed lithely on the pink crotch, and the woman who owned that crotch, whose languid body responded in undulating orgasmic swells. <br /><br /> “Ah, yesssss,” she softly hissed, as her head fell back against the chair. When her trembling body started to climax, she grabbed the side of the chair with one hand and the brunette’s hair with the other. <br /><br /> The girl hung on to the pink, cumming pussy despite the wildly erratic movements, her face glistening, smeared with female juices. <br /><br /> Once the woman’s tremors subsided, she slumped back in the chair, almost fainting. Seeing her satisfied expression, the man with the leash jerked his girl back to him, reclaiming her complete attention. After pulling her to her feet, he led her toward the back of the club, as though he sought a more private location. Even so, a motivated crowd of voyeurs followed them hoping the show would continue. <br /><br /> The couple stood now face to face, just inches apart and chest to chest. Although they were nearly the same height, his energy persisted in towering over her, nearly consuming her as if she was a part of him, little more than an extension of his unyielding will, a playground for his schemes. No different than the scene before, their private conversation became a public show. That was what he wanted.<br /><br /> “What do you deserve?” he asked her, with his sharp eyes riveted on her scared ones.<br /><br /> “Nothing,” she sincerely answered. <br /><br /> He let go the leash and grabbed her neck, clutching it inside a claw-like grip. His other hand reached for the top of her shirt and with an abruptness that stunned the audience and his chattel, he ripped the two sides open. She swooned with awe and fright. He then laid her down against the flat surface of an empty lounge table and began pinching her nipples with a biting firmness that had to hurt. Her eyes remained closed but the pain still registered across her face in a worried grimace.<br /><br /> The man leaned in, hissing in her ear. “Play with your pussy til you come.”<br /><br /> While he continued to squeeze her nipples, the brunette reached for her crotch and began to roam the wet slit. Knowing exactly what to do to get off, her fingers massaged around the bud of her clitoris with painstaking precision. She performed with some urgency, sensing that the man in charge of her would not allow a leisurely masturbation.<br /><br /> In speechless wonder, the audience observed her slick shiny folds expand before their eyes, and how her clitoris seemed to bloom and her vaginal muscles pulsed in readiness as she worked herself to a climactic frenzy. The air in the room seemed to rise ten degrees, a collective force that fed off her lust. She strained as the man above her crushed her nipples between his fingers and twisted.<br /><br /> “Open your eyes,” he whispered gruffly. <br /><br /> Her eyes fluttered wide, staring dazedly into his surly expression. He seemed to have climbed inside her head where he read her thoughts. He watched her jerk, struggling with the pain that by then must have been a constant stimulation. Though whether that pain was welcome was not exactly clear. It was, nevertheless, endured, because that was what she did. <br /><br /> “Come, or I’ll pull your hand away,” he ordered in seething tones.<br /><br /> She shook her head back and forth, her face wincing as if in protest. “Please,” she begged. <br /><br /> “No, come now,” he insisted giving her nipples another angry squeeze. This last jarring pain tripped a switch in her brain and body. <br /><br /> Her fingers flew, her body strained. She arched her back with every muscle going taut. Something wild swept through her, and yet the restraint was obvious. Whether the crowd made her shy or the man who mastered her every move restricted her pleasure by some unspoken rule, no one would know. The result was the same. The girl remained under his power, controlled even in her moment of rapture. She was left spent but hardly satiated at the finish.<br /><br /> He gave the girl no time to recover. While her body still spasmed, he pulled her to her feet. His one hand moved to her crotch, diving into the liquid that bathed his fingers. Then he raised his cum-soaked digits to her lips and she, without instruction, licked them one by one. Her eyes remained nearly closed, her dreamy reverie apparent. A moment later, she slumped to her knees, bowing her head and hanging on to the man’s legs in affectionate gratitude. She looked up, eyes beseeching him. She wanted inside his pants, a hope everyone shared. It only seemed right after everything else that happened that night. <br /><br /> But he pushed her off with a sweep of his hand. <br /><br /> “I should find one fat prick to take your ass and another to fill your mouth.”<br /><br /> That would have worked too, the crowd would agree. <br /><br /> She seemed languished with desire hearing his rough words. <br /><br /> “But not tonight,” he said as he wound his hand through her hair and scowled. “You’ve already had more than you deserve.”<br />That said, the performance ended. He dropped the leash in her lap and turned away, leaving the brunette to scramble to her feet and follow him to the front of the club. Her shirt was still unbuttoned, the tips of her small breasts just barely hidden inside the flimsy cotton. Still collared, leashed and humbly acquiescent, she followed him into the desert night. <br /><br /> The air in the sex club buzzed as the simmering erotic heat began to boil. Horny spectators resumed their quest for sexual satisfaction and negotiations were swiftly made. Couples disappeared into private rooms while other fucked in the public lounges. No one quite understood what they had seen that night. Days later, some would doubt it ever happened. But no one would forget. As the remembrance of that strange play between the yielding brunette and the man with the leash lingered on, it would continue to lure and beguile the voyeurs in that hour of mystery, causing them to wonder about themselves, what might be missing in their sexual passion, what hidden lust might lie dormant, waiting. </span><br />Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-85620018115122608942015-02-13T13:58:00.000-05:002015-02-13T14:04:26.685-05:00Part Two of "The Seduction Begins" <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EpBtiXAfaBM/VNUixvKhTtI/AAAAAAAABBQ/O0IUT9c2wfA/s1600/9781934349595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EpBtiXAfaBM/VNUixvKhTtI/AAAAAAAABBQ/O0IUT9c2wfA/s1600/9781934349595.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">From my BDSM novel, <b><span style="color: #741b47;">House of Slaves</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For Part One of this story, and more info on the book, read my previous post below</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>In Part Two... </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The seduction that began in the bar turns into a blistering hot D/s scene in the sexy atmosphere of an old hotel. </span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Later in the evening…</b><br /><br />The hotel is old, smelling of roses past their prime and fine woodwork. Distinguished. Elite. The place is a little shabby, it too is past its prime, but pleasingly quaint, and to her relief, dimly, erotically lit. <br /><br /> The walls absorb the lies she carries with her. They allow her secrets and will bury them with the secrets of all the late night rendezvous that have gone before hers. <br /><br /> The lights are low in the fourth floor room. The carpet is plush, the chairs deep and the mattress high and welcoming. <br /><br />He sinks down in the comfort of an old armchair and unbuttons another button on his shirt.<br /><br /> “How rough do you want it, Sarah?” he asks.<br /><br /> She stands before him mesmerized, and without batting an eye says: “Sometimes very rough, sir.” She regrets calling him sir; it conveys too much, but it’s out of her mouth before she thinks.<br /><br /> But he moves on swiftly. “Take off the coat.”<br /><br /> She gulps visibly, nervous but driven. It’s just a sash, a simple sash, and with it untied, the coat easily falls away to disclose the sinful revelation of her errant panties and everything that is Sarah plainly exposed.<br /><br /> He stares at her crotch, deliberately, his eyes gliding right over the wealth of her generous breasts and the lovely curve of her slim waist and shapely hips. <br /><br /> “I don’t remember making an exception for your panties,” he says coldly. “I suppose I should just walk out the door and assume that you were toying with me. I thought I was clear as glass.”<br /><br /> “You were, sir. I’m sorry.”<br /><br /> “But you refuse me?”<br /><br /> “No, sir, I was petrified.”<br /><br /> “And you’re petrified now?”<br /><br /> She hesitates. “Sort of, maybe, but not as much.”<br /><br /><br /> “Come closer, Sarah.”<br /><br /> He’s stern and gentle and unwavering, and she trembles at the sound of his curt voice. She obeys him, inching forward until she’s right in front of him, so close that she can smell his breath and feel the drum beat of energy he exudes. <br /><br /> She feels his hands on her hips, his fingers sliding deftly under the waistband of her panties, and the firm assurance he uses to draw them down to uncover the last of her secrets. Her trembling deepens as he gazes at the neatly shaped ‘V’ with its soft curls and the pink valley between, shining now with juices seeping onto her flushed skin. <br /><br /> Her panties fall to the floor.<br /><br /> “Pick them up,” the stranger says. <br /><br /> She backs up a step, feeling wobbly and faint, but manages to bend down and pluck the featherweight lace from the floor. She holds out her hand to show him what she found, and with her apprehensions mounting, she relinquishes the bit of fabric and watches as the stranger pockets them in his pants. <br /><br /> “Now on your knees and crawl,” he orders. <br /><br /> “Crawl where?” <br /><br /> “Crawl where I can see you,” his voice like a bitter wind.<br /><br /> She drops to her knees and moves slowly in a circle in front of him, her hands and knees sinking into the thick plum-colored carpet. Crawling demeans her in his eyes, but she doesn’t feel as demeaned as she feels strangely aroused. By the time she returns to him, his zipper is already down. With little effort, she takes his throbbing erection into her mouth and lovingly laves the fragrant skin. The moist sweet scent of an aroused man wafts into her nose, sustaining the deviant pleasure in serving him. <br /><br /> He leans back and sighs as her blowjob continues, as her mouth covers his organ, and her lips slide down the shaft drawing him deeper, deeper, deeper into her body.<br /><br /> When he suddenly pushes her back, she fears she’s failed him.<br /><br /> “You had to make me do this, didn’t you, Sarah?”<br /><br /> Do what? Punish her for the panties. <br /><br /> He pulls them from his pocket, holding the smelly lace in front of her nose. <br /><br /> “Open your mouth,” he says and when she does, he shoves the cloth inside. Rising from the chair, he lifts her by the arm and pushes her to the bed. “Ass high, Sarah. And no screaming, even if this hurts.”<br /><br /> Of course, it’s going to hurt. Punishment hurts. And this one hurts especially. He only had a few rules and already she’s broken a very simple one. She watches him only long enough to see him draw the belt from his pants. But as he takes aim, her eyes close, and her fists clench and her ass cheeks tense. <br /><br /> Smack! He delivers his message with powerful force, then repeats the action again and again and again. The hits come on fast, in a fury that leaves her breathless. She groans beneath the lashing belt, squirming in pain, writhing miserably but remaining in place. She should be frightened of this man’s power over her mind and body, and yet she craves every hurtful smack on her soft ass cheeks. She dwells now in a land where retribution like this will absolve her, cleanse her and make all things right. For all the fear and trembling, all the hurt and pain, she will not alter what fate blessed her with this night. She will take all the stranger metes out because he’s justified in what he does; she’s earned every blow.<br /><br /> But then his energy shifts. <br /><br /> She can feel the change coming over him as he drifts away from righteous indignation back to arousal, to pleasure, to sex. The belt suddenly disappears, and the sex comes on her strong, plunged deep into her valley, into her pussy, into her core. He grabs her ass cheeks in his fists as he fucks her from behind, using her, taking her, being brutal to the very end when his fucking cock at last explodes, shooting rivers of his essence deep into her body. <br /><br /> She explodes too, becoming as thoughtless and self-absorbed as he is in the end, out for her pleasure, her satisfaction, her needs satisfied. As much as she’s given to him, she wants for herself in return. <br /><br /> They collapse to the bed exhausted and he pulls the panties from her mouth. She gasps gratefully. <br /><br /> “I might let you dress when you leave here, Sarah. But you’ll leave the panties in the room.”<br /><br /> “Yes, sir,” she weakly returns. <br /><br /> They lay silently, letting their thoughts swim, and a bevy of questions and feelings slide away, as the real world finally comes back to them. Reality hits her hard: what she’s done; what an easy lay she is; what an easy surrender her stranger won from her. Lies. Regret. Guilt. Pile on. <br /><br /> “I really have to go,” she suddenly, nervously, jumps from the bed. <br /><br /> “So quickly, Sarah?” he asks, quite kindly. Not even a hint of the exploitive tyrant he took such pleasure in becoming minutes ago obscures his amiable spirit. <br /><br /> “Yes, really. I shouldn’t be here in the first place.”<br /><br /> He snickers knowingly then rises from the bed to find his clothes. <br /><br /> When did he shed them? she wonders, as she looks up and stares at his firm body. Fucking feels like eons ago. Her ass may be sore later but she feels none of the punishment now – as if the fucking and punishment never happened and their time together was no more than a dream. <br /> She dresses quickly in the rumpled clothes she pulls from her handbag. <br /> She wants to run from the room and pretend the affair never happened, but when she looks up, he’s standing in front of the door, blocking her exit. Coolly. Casually. Handsomely. A quiet concern on his face. <br /><br /> “So what’s your name, Sarah, your whole name?” he asks earnestly. <br /><br /> “Sarah Strathorn.” She runs her hand through her messed up hair. She’s trying to compose herself, though she’s about to cry. <br /><br /> “Martin Finch.” He pulls his business card from his pocket and stuffs it in her hand. </span><br />
<br />
(c) Copyright 2007, by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reservedLizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-72671596418737701372015-02-06T15:38:00.000-05:002015-02-13T13:58:37.327-05:00The Seduction Begins...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EpBtiXAfaBM/VNUixvKhTtI/AAAAAAAABBM/Gk9x0Tuc0hs/s1600/9781934349595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EpBtiXAfaBM/VNUixvKhTtI/AAAAAAAABBM/Gk9x0Tuc0hs/s1600/9781934349595.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The flirtation...the drama...the mystery...the magic in that first chance meeting, and the beginning of my novel <b><span style="color: #a64d79;">House of Slaves...</span></b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: #a64d79;"><span style="color: black;">About the book:</span></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: #a64d79;"></span></b>Sarah Strathorn thought she had the perfect Dominant submissive relationship with her husband, Alexander, until he turned his home into a house of submissives. He's a wealthy and powerful businessman who rules his world, and his wife, with an iron fist. Now, Sarah must compete with a bevy of beautiful female acquisitions, including Chloe who seems to have captured Alexander's heart as much as his sexually dominant desires.<br /><br />Angry with this sudden change, Sarah strikes out on her own. She becomes the submissive lover to a renowned playwright, then, filled with sexual guilt, she lets a casual acquaintance with a mysterious and domineering stranger turn into a torrid night of reprisal, punishment and sex.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For more information about this novel <a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/House-of-Slaves.html" target="_blank">click this link</a></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Excerpt from House of Slaves</span></b></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Part One </span></b></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A note to readers: obviously, this was written prior to the ban on smoking in public restaurants. Sadly, there's nothing like a smoky bar to generate a sensual atmosphere...at least in print. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> A
night not fit for man nor beast…driving rain, a fickle wind, and lies
that chase her down the street. Looking for a place to hide, she
stumbles into the close confines of teeming patrons in the neighborhood
bar, swallowed whole by its anonymous humanity. She breathes a sigh of
relief, just briefly, before being jostled toward the back, through the
sweat, the smoke, the beer and booze, the loud talk and louder laughter.
Everything clouds her senses, everything fogs her brain.<br /><br /> No
place to stand or sit or find a drink, until spotting an empty seat in
the last booth, she finally lands with a thud on the hard wood seat.<br /><br />
“A double Scotch, no ice, please,” she calls to an indifferent
waitress, three feet off. The saucy redhead turns around flipping her
ponytail and glaring. <br /><br /> “There’s an extra twenty if I can get
it now, right now…” she looks up smiling meekly. Her body is slender,
but womanly. Desire clings to it like the rain clinging to her dress and
coat.<br /><br /> The waitress eyes her critically through her scraggly
bangs, finally shrugging, “What the heck,” she turns around and
disappears. <br /><br /> “Ahem.” <br /><br /> The sound of a man purposefully clearing his throat makes the windblown blonde turn toward the wall. She is not alone!<br /><br />
“Oh, my. I’m sorry!” Her eyebrows furrow miserably. “There just wasn’t
anywhere else to go, and my feet are killing me…I thought the booth was
empty…” she rattles on, flustered and annoyed. <br /><br /> “Well then,
you can stay,” he calmly allays the anxious woman. Maybe a tad
condescending, but his smile is genuine. “I’m Martin.”<br /><br />
“Thanks, really. Thanks. I’m Sarah.” She settles in a bit. But after
quickly apprising her host, she almost rather he kick her out. The
smooth-talking darkly handsome type make her nervous, and though she’s
used to men like this, she has reason to be frightened of their motives.
The fact that he speaks with a British accent only complicates the
issue. <br /><br /> Reaching into her purse, she pulls out her last
Marlboro Light. But before the lighter reaches the tip of her cigarette,
the man reaches out and plucks it from between her fingers. <br /><br /> “What?”<br /><br /> “Can’t stand the smoke,” he explains. <br /><br /> But the bar is filled with smoke, which she would hasten to point out, but she’s too aghast to think of anything to say. <br /><br /> “My table, my rules,” he adds.<br /><br />
Something about the authority behind the comment makes her blush,
chagrinned now. She sits back in awe, while that first flutter of desire
calls up feelings she hadn’t expected to feel, not here, not now. How
easily captured. How easily charmed. She observes him more carefully.
He’s all about precision. A starched shirt, neat manicure, even a simple
gold pinky ring with a black stone on his right hand. He wears no tie,
obviously having dressed down for the early evening.<br /><br /> “So what is Sarah hiding from on a night like this?” he asks, just casual banter. <br /><br /> “Hiding?” Her blush deepens.<br /><br /> “Ah, so, I’m right.” He looks amused.<br /><br /> “Right about what?”<br /><br /> “Sorry, if I sound presumptuous, but you look like a woman with a lot of regret.”<br /><br /> “Yes. Well. Am I all that different from any other woman?”<br /><br />
The waitress appears and slaps the double Scotch on the table
successfully killing his reply. She takes a sip of her drink, then a
generous gulp, feeling the liquor burn all the way down her throat. The
alcohol works fast. Within a minute’s time, the last hard edges of
reality slip away. Even the stranger’s cold clear eyes begin to blur
before her and she sees little but the warm smile on his lips below. <br /><br />
“So, what else do I look like to you?” she asks. The liquor starts to
speak, giving rise to a natural compulsion for toying with men like this
one. Her flustered fright and lost look have been replaced by something
more sultry, even a little wicked.<br /><br /> “I see a flirt, an unrepentant tease who likes to pay for the privilege.”<br /><br /> Her mind swims a little too much. “I have no idea what that means.”<br /><br /> “Sure you do.” He laughs easily, then bluntly says: “You look like you want to get laid.”<br /><br />
“Geez.” She shakes her head, embarrassed but titillated. “You sure
don’t waste any time. Are you always so blunt when you’re on the prowl?”<br /><br />
“I’m sorry. It’s just an observation, that’s all. As pleasant as that
idea might be, when I finish my beer, I’m going home to bed, to sleep.
The table’s yours.”<br /><br /> “Ah! So I can smoke all I want,” she teases.<br /><br /> “Yes, you can smoke all you want.”<br /><br />
The teasing twinkle in his eye makes her want him. But he is too cool,
too pretty to be what she needs. She likes her men as rough as she likes
her sex. <br /><br /> Light-headed and horny, she keeps probing for the
fun of it, because she can’t help herself. Freedom like this is hard to
come by in her life. “But if you were available…”<br /><br /> “You want an honest answer?”<br /><br />
She likes the way he looks at her; the way he paints every expression
with untainted sincerity. He’s the worst kind of man, the most
dangerous, the kind that can have her heart tidily wrapped up with a bow
before she understands that he’s just stringing her along. <br /><br />
“Why not? I’m tired and lonely and all ears,” she says with a heavy
sigh. “I mean, this is all just hypothetical anyway, since you’ve ruled
out a sordid tryst. So, if you were available…?”<br /><br /> He sits back looking amused. “You’d have to be a special kind of woman to interest me.”<br /><br /> “And…what kind of woman is that?”<br /><br />
“I was divorced fifteen years ago and have been a bachelor ever since.
I’m not an easy man to love, nor is sex particularly easy for the women I
bed. I’m not sure you want to pry any further.”<br /><br /> “Oh, but now
you have me really interested…” She bats her lashes. It’s the drink
talking now, and she knows this. Otherwise she’d never be so bold with a
stranger. <br /><br /> “Interested? I’m not so sure,” he’s still
smiling, but now in a cagey sort of way. “When it comes to women and
sex, I don’t compromise on what I want. I can be rude, abusive,
bordering on sadistic. The woman who wants me better be prepared to
surrender. If I have to work through her resistance, I will. But I’ve
never backed down from a good battle, and I’ve never lost a battle that I
wanted to win….” Seeing how her eyes widen, he stops. “You look
surprised.”<br /><br /> “I am.” But not in the way he figures. <br /><br />
“Oh, it gets worse,” he warns. “I’ve been known to slap a woman if
she’s earned it. I’ve spanked, humiliated, and hogtied petulant bitches
until they are ready to behave. But I expect the woman I sleep with to
want that, and love me for my unyielding demands. Relationships are on
my terms; they fit into my schedule to suit my needs. I wouldn’t bother
with anything else.”<br /><br /> By the time he gets to the slapping
part, she’s as uneasy as a leaf clinging to its branch in an autumn
breeze. He’s not so sweet now, so perfect, so polished. But a man with
harder edges emerging from inside the carefully starched clothes. <br /><br /> “What, cat got your tongue?”<br /><br />
“You’re not much of a romantic, are you?” she says a little dazedly.
She’s practically panting, breathless, hungry with desire. All this is
unspoken, though he certainly knows this turns her on. <br /><br /> “It’s
all in the eye of the beholder, Sarah. If I get my needs met, well,
then I can be tender.” His voice, his face, his delivery softens now. “I
can hold a woman when she needs to cry, I can listen for hours to her
tall tales. And I’m more than willing to sit down to candlelight
dinners.” He lets that sink in, and adds at last: “Well, now that you
know who I am and what I want, maybe it’s time you moved on to the real
conquest of your night.”<br /><br /> She jumps on that. “Conquest? You think that’s the reason I’m here?”<br /><br />
“You deny it? It’s what you planned in the back of your mind. You’ve
had a bad day, and right now you’ve got a look on your beautiful face
that takes men to bed.”<br /><br /> She smiles, clearly befuddled. “Well,
just certain men,” she needs to clarify, though she denies nothing. Her
ears are burning, her heart strained like a bowstring.<br /><br /> “Certain men? What does that mean? Men like me, perhaps?”<br /><br />
He drills her so hard with that remark that her cheeks redden
instantly. “Maybe,” she flirts back. Her voice is soft, appealing and
seductive. “But you’re unavailable, and if I were a sensible woman I’d
go home and snuggle in with a good book.” All she can do now is snuggle
into the hardwood seat, her body billowing beyond its skin, breasts
jiggling under cashmere, cleavage drawing the eye of men who slyly watch
from the sidelines, even as Martin, the sexy stranger, keeps his eyes
firmly fixated on her face. <br /><br /> “But you won’t go home. Because you’re not about doing the sensible thing.” <br /><br />
Now his voice has lowered to that mysterious baritone that turns her
pussy wet. Men have dropped that veil of darkness over her too many
times not to feel it coming and welcome the sensuous feeling it
engenders.<br /><br /> “But this is all still hypothetical, isn’t it?” she reminds him.<br /><br /> “That’s right. Nothing’s changed.”<br /><br /> “But if, hypothetically,” her mind wanders on, “you wanted me, and you were available…how would you seduce me?” …</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Part Two next week</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Copyright (c) 2007 by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permission. </span></div>
Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-77354826582415468152015-01-23T10:58:00.002-05:002015-01-23T14:40:56.995-05:00Master in the Office...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RBt9PJui-ik/VMJo_Sp11XI/AAAAAAAABA8/jUVswzuAxx0/s1600/9781934349090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RBt9PJui-ik/VMJo_Sp11XI/AAAAAAAABA8/jUVswzuAxx0/s1600/9781934349090.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The allure of her mystery master has Skye so aroused, she'll do anything he orders...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A sexy office sex scene from my novel <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Force Me To Obey </span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">About the book: </span></span></span><span style="color: black;">Skye Sinclair has no idea what she’s asking for when she places a personal ad on an Internet B&D website. All she understands is her obsession… the naïve innocent knows nothing of the real S&M underworld she’s discovered. She thinks the game is just a tease—until a man from her office recognizes her picture and replies. His thinly veiled threat to expose her only intensifies her need to satisfy her dark dreams. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: black; font-size: small;">An undated version of this title is now available. <a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/Force-Me-To-Obey.html" target="_blank">For more information click this link.</a></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Excerpt from <span style="color: #cc0000;">Force Me To Obey</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There were more orders from my mystery man…simple ones, and I let my mind drift to thoughts of him and which man in my office he might be…perhaps Niven, Lockhart, McNary, or Lloyd? Any of the four could arouse my submissive lust. Of course, I could be way off base and my email master was none of these men, perhaps someone much less attractive, much more ordinary and approachable, thus much less exciting than I hoped for. I let my imagination drift away, and soon the effect of the dildo and ropes he ordered me to wear that day became more than an annoyance, more than irritation, more than just another assignment. It worked on me like the fingers of a lover, tempting, taunting, revealing the truth about myself. My belly swelled with desire, as my thoughts were captured, poised on the unknown man who demanded this of me. I was at his feet, naked but for this simple gear, waiting for his touch, waiting for the revelation. <br /><br />The phone suddenly jangled, knocking me out of my dreams. <br /><br />“Research Department,” I answered.<br /><br />“Face the window, Skye, and pull down the blind. Close your eyes and wait for me. Do it now.”<br /><br />Now? Here? Inside this half hidden cubicle? But what if…? I tried to blurt out, but it was too late. The phone clicked and the dial tone buzzed in my ear like a buzz saw. <br /><br />I swiveled my chair, reached for the mini-blind ropes and tugged until the slats dropped down. Afraid to move from there, I closed my eyes and waited, feeling him near, feeling the ropes, the gnawing dildo in my pussy and my arousal soar far beyond its previous bounds. My body ached for his physical touch. <br /><br />In minutes, my obedience was rewarded as I heard the crisp sound of shoes in the corridor and then the shuffling of feet behind me. Feeling the presence of a body hovering over me, I mentally sifted through the images, the men, the possibilities, and the ones I’d already dismissed. The cuff of his shirt brushed my cheek, while the scent of his cologne wafted toward my nostrils. He rested a palm on my shoulder and squeezed firmly, to which I reacted with a terrified shudder of delight.<br /><br />His voice was low and muffled as it had been on the phone, so unlike the four men I knew about…or so I believed. <br /><br />“The demands become serious from here on, Skye.” His fingers caressed my face and my body trembled scared. “Play with yourself for me. Eyes closed, hand inside your crotch.”<br /><br />“Here? Now?” I croaked that old refrain. <br /><br />“Here. Now,” he softly confirmed. <br /><br />I lifted my skirt and parted my thighs, while the energy of sex burst from me in a raging torrent. For days I hadn’t come, so it only took a minute of frantic play to have me at the edge of letting go. <br /><br />His hand gripped my throat hard. I was sure I’d suffocate. “Come!” he ordered, bending down to whisper in my ear. My body seemed to rip apart, with the end crashing in around me. My ass lifted off the seat, then my bound groin rocked back and forth as it settled down, making the chair squeak with each jarring movement, certainly telegraphing my state of being to the whole goddam world. I forgot myself, the place, the time, the company, and groaned because I could do no less.<br /><br />“Hush!” I heard his imperative firmly remind me where I was. Then as the spasms ceased to shake my body, he released his grip. He backed away, saying, “No one’s going to bother you. Pull yourself together and get back to work.”<br /><br />The sensations lingered with me long into the afternoon, along with the memory of his scent, the feel of his hand, the warmth of his skin, the gentle firmness of his voice. If only I had turned around and opened my eyes, I’d have seen his face. But he remained, instead, my mystery, the man without a face, without a name. </span></span><br />
<br />
(c) Copyright Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permission.Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-1709735380216365872015-01-16T14:14:00.001-05:002015-01-16T14:14:02.280-05:00This bratty wench get's spanked.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xtpDX9RSsrk/VLk4HZsgSSI/AAAAAAAABAs/CHjzXgEBgcg/s1600/Justice%2Bfor%2Ba%2BThief%2Bebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xtpDX9RSsrk/VLk4HZsgSSI/AAAAAAAABAs/CHjzXgEBgcg/s1600/Justice%2Bfor%2Ba%2BThief%2Bebook.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The opening scene from my historical novel, <b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Justice for a Thief</span></b> ... in which the bratty thief, Rebecca, has another spirited tussle with her sexy nemesis, Duncan Forsythe. The results are inevitable ... as this little miscreant goes over his knee for the "reward" she's earned. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Scenes like this are what I love most in the Romantic Spanking Genre. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">About the novel: Escaping her miserable family and abandoning the man she loves, the young Rebecca Coverdale trades a noblewoman's life for a life of crime, joining a scoundrel thief in a dangerous spree of thieving and sexual indulgence. <br /> When she's caught red-handed at her dangerous games, she faces ruthless bare-bottom punishment. Soon, she's on the run, attempting escape the justice she deserves. Her own worse enemy, Rebecca's crimes compound and she's eventually imprisoned, and later becomes a slavish wench in a fancy London brothel. Even though her strong-willed nature fights her terrible fate, she finds a strange sort of pleasure in submitting to strong men and her own outrageous sexual desires.</span> <a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/Justice-For-A-Thief.html" target="_blank">For more information on this novel click here.</a> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt from <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Justice for a Thief</b></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The day was tepid—one better spent looking for a breeze in the out of doors But she was sequestered in the stone fort, purposely hidden—sorting through her box of jewels with a look of mischievous triumph in her golden eyes. The pale locks of her auburn hair shone by candlelight, gleaming like satin or Oriental silk. She wore no frock, but a pair of leather britches, and a manly style of shirt that made her slim form look boyish—at least from behind—her lovely rounded buttocks the only suggestion of her femininity. To view her from straight on with her voluminous hair loosened from the cap she’d worn, there was no mistaking the fact of her gender. The hair lit up a face radiant with the energy of a fine young woman, noble born with regal features. Her wide-set eyes were sharp and focused, her jawline angular and smooth, her complexion pure—a creamy pink that invited the touch of a tender hand. One glance at her bosom and it was difficult to miss the bounty there. For a woman of nineteen, she had blossomed abundantly, the flesh of her breasts difficult to hide even under the wide shirt she wore. When it was absolutely necessary in order to ply her trade, she would bind them in muslin as best she could to keep an inspecting eye from guessing the truth. At times, it was easier to be a boy-thief—easier to gain access to places where the greatest treasure could be lifted from the unsuspecting. Taverns, brothels and trading houses were not the province of respectable ladies—though it was perhaps a laughable venture to call Rebecca Coverdale a lady at all. Despite her noble heritage, she was a common thief by choice—her trade a lark to soothe her fiery constitution and mock a birthright that stung her at every turn.<br /><br />She heard footsteps behind her but was too slow in acknowledging them to fend off attack.<br /><br />“Stop it, you bastard!” she roared at the instant of capture. Two large arms swooped about her shoulders, binding her against a mighty chest. She recognized the broad hands of her lover, and kicked back at his shin with her boot, angrily striking the mark she meant to hit.<br /><br />“You’ve been thieving again,” his voice was gruff.<br /><br />“What concern is that of yours?” She struggled as she turned inside his grasp, eyes snapping like flames of white-hot fire.<br /><br />“You know my vow.”<br /><br />“And you know I’ll resist,” she declared, feet still kicking to defeat his grip. <br /><br />He wasn’t beaten. Duncan Forsythe was rarely bested by a man, and certainly never by a woman. Despite his lean appearance, his body was one sinewy muscle, toughened by a fierce life and determination. That did not impede the twinkle in his dark eyes—that molten black had often matched Rebecca’s in wit and sexual charm—as well as biting fire. He found his lover delectable in her current state of madness. And, he had a ready cure for that madness. The result would be his ultimate satisfaction. There was a broad brown belt about his trousers that he could unbuckle with one hand while maintaining a firm hold on his fighting captive. <br /><br />“You think you’ll best me, Rebecca Coverdale, you are more addled than I thought,” he declared, laughing he was so amused. He dragged her to one corner of the candlelit room and sat down in order to accomplish his task in a way that he could control her best. Tossing her lithe form over his lap, he held her fixed while he tugged at the waist of her britches. <br /><br />“Have I ever told you how lovely you look in these, my dear?” he taunted.<br /><br />“Get your hands off me, bastard!” she swore.<br /><br />“Oh, my, you’re not giving in, my little brazen one? How dangerous for you. Now, I’ll really have to make this succulent flesh smart.”<br /><br />“You’d better not!” she roared.<br /><br />“Really? You think you can stop me?”<br /><br />She bucked like a wild stallion—to no avail, and was nearly in tears over the attack.<br /><br />“I didn’t think so,” Duncan said as he observed the uselessness of her plight. Having her ass bare, his eyes drank in the glorious sight of her unblemished skin. How that white gleamed in the candlelight, much like the complexion of her face. He noted a layer of perspiration covering the plump orbs. It was miserably humid in Rebecca’s secret crypt, and this would be a hot wet episode from the spanking foreplay, to the fornicating finish. Raising the belt he had doubled in his hand, he snapped the wide flat breadth of it on her jiggling skin. The smack hit her rudely on both cheeks causing her to cry—<br /><br />“Ouch! You fuckin’ ass.” She accentuated that cry with a powerful surge of intent, hoping to achieve the result of falling to the stony floor. But, as was typical of these skirmishes over Duncan’s lap, her try was met with a force far greater than she could muster. He held her fast.<br /><br />Ah! What a sight it was to see the color of her ass turn pink! Duncan thought.<br />Inspired, he pelted her soundly, smack after smack torturing her poor behind, the strident beauty’s cries rash and angry. “I hate you, you vile blackguard!” That’s when she was sane enough to form words. The rest of the time there was little but gibberish coming from her lips. The spanking continued through all her panicked cries and wild gyrations; and the color of her ass was soon a deep pink hue that seemed to fuse to the surface flesh as though it changed colors permanently. He leveled one smack atop another, while others drifted down her thighs, nearly to her knees before his aim returned to her molten behind.<br /><br />For those that were especially harsh, she blared words no lady should ever utter. One would think that Rebecca Coverdale was little more than a guttersnipe, not the daughter of a Duke, distantly related to the king. Now, she was getting a well-deserved rebuke—one to match the worst such strappings her dictatorial lover declared suitable for a brat of her uncommon ilk.<br /><br />Soon, her ass was simply a mess of color, the texture of her skin changing in a way that would be apparent for some hours, perhaps days after. Yet, as this painful procedure continued the reckless thief, the boy/girl strumpet, the womanly Rebecca began to find surrender the bravest and wisest response to her plight. Some curious bent that made this act turn into pleasure made her loins burn with a peculiar heat that was decidedly sexual.<br /><br />When this took place, Duncan would swear that he didn’t change the force of his strokes, while Rebecca would swear that he softened them. Regardless of the truth, the pain ceased to torture her, and became a fuel for the furnace afire between her thighs. That fire growing molten and needy, she squirmed erotically, her ass jerking, her tears turning into whimpers of a sexual quality.<br /><br />When Duncan stopped the spanking, dropping the strap to the ground, there was no sigh of relief; she was too focused on having his hands work her hot mounds as his cock would work her aching pussy.<br /><br />For at time, Duncan was content to stare at the lovely handiwork his strap made of her backside. All the while, the wanting young woman waited in the excruciating silence of the steamy room. <br /><br />“So, quit staring at my bum and get on with it!” she finally blared.<br /><br />He smacked her hard on the left cheek.<br /><br />“Who’s in charge here?” he asked.<br /><br />She didn’t reply, choosing to answer with her wiggling ass.<br /><br />“Who’s in charge, Rebecca?” he asked one more time while giving her other cheek a good firm crack.<br /><br />He wasn’t going to settle for silence; and worried that he’d start the punishment all over again if she defied him, she finally spit out, “You are, dear Duncan. Now please take me.” Her desperation tore at the heart.<br /><br />“That’s better. I’m glad to hear you understand the facts,” he said. And with that admission, his bare palm moved on her spanked cheeks.<br /><br />“Oh, Duncan, yes!” Her reply was instantaneous joy.<br /><br />“You like this, my little bitch?” he asked, as his hand roved the blistering hot skin, his fingers journeying between her thighs to find the liquid gathering there. <br /><br />“Ooo, yes, my love, but please don’t call me a bitch,” she protested—though it was hardly a protest at all.<br /><br />“You call me a bastard, I’ll call you anything I like,” he vowed. “You certainly are no lady. We established that fact a long time ago. Now, tell me. You want more?”<br /><br />“Oh, please, love yes, yes more.” The need was urgently gripping her. And while she might have remained on Duncan’s lap, she managed to twist herself about so they could kiss, so that their embrace could lead to stripping away their clothes and falling to the bed of straw on the floor.<br /><br />“Ah, yeesss,” she purred while lying back on the prickly surface. The straw burned her raw behind, but she hardly cared. Duncan had her body naked. With the remnants of her boy’s clothes stripped away, the full measure of her womanly charms was there for him to behold it all their fascinating glory. She never ceased to thrill him, to make his anxious cock stir restlessly—regardless of her attire. Now, so beautifully laid out for him—and submissive to boot—he dove into her welcoming riches with the same sure abandon of their many copulating moments. He thought he liked her best after a good spanking, strapping or caning—all of these measures liberally used to bridle her virtually unbridled appetite for illegal ventures. At the moment of surrender, she was most appealing. And, it seemed the kind of justice necessary to preserve their peace. She would continue to mock him, and he’d continue to chastise her. It was the only way he could live with her crimes, her occasionally ranting tongue and defiant manner. </span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-8807002497879705462015-01-09T15:57:00.000-05:002015-01-09T16:32:27.893-05:00Elena's Lovers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mrdzmDMI6sI/VLBIbkaDDWI/AAAAAAAABAY/uzSuCs1hZQ0/s1600/Elena%27s-Lovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mrdzmDMI6sI/VLBIbkaDDWI/AAAAAAAABAY/uzSuCs1hZQ0/s1600/Elena's-Lovers.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">An updated version of this classic Lizbeth story released this week!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">About the Novel: On a beach in Spain, in the Arizona desert, and a busy street in San Francisco, Elena meets the most remarkable men of her life. They spirit her away into mystical and sometimes dangerous realms, teach her truths about herself she never imagined, and bring her breathless sexual ecstasy, only to disappear without a trace. Were they real at all, or just her imagination playing tricks with her sanity?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For more information about this novel <a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/Elena%27s-Lovers.html" target="_blank">click here.</a></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt from Elena's Lovers: </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Waking again, he was there, calling himself Pietro. The body of Nikos, the eyes of Jose, the essence of capture, kidnap, abduction in the fierce intent of his movement.<br /><br />“You’re so scared, my pet,” he said stroking her head. “Such fear, such beautiful fear, how it makes you sweat.” He traced a bead of perspiration down her throat, drawing the wetness all the way to where the neckline of her blue suit hit the button just above her breasts.<br /><br />“Who are you?” she gasped, with her frightened eyes trying to understand where she’d seen his face before.<br /><br />“A bandit,” he replied.<br /><br />Such seductive eyes to lure her on.<br /><br />“What do you want from me?”<br /><br />“To fuck you, my pretty dark one.” The scorn on his lips was invitingly evil. He played with her hair, loosening the black unruly curls, so they were falling everywhere around her shoulders. Stroking them as a lover, he wound one lock around a finger and pulled it until it hurt. She was too frightened to cry out. He tugged at it, and tugged again, staring into her eyes, wanting her to commit herself to the pain it caused with some audible protest. But her voice was too fragile to say a word. <br /><br />“You can hardly wait for it, can you?” he said, with a hand at her mouth, his fingers going inside, caressing her there. “Such lips, such beautiful red lips. As pretty as the ones below.”<br /><br />Her eyes peered back frightened. <br /><br />“Do not worry, my sweet, trust me, you will beg me to take you. You will beg.”<br /><br />He made love to her mouth with his hand, with his fingers that teased the lips and continued until she replied at last, finding their penetration irresistible. A simple “ahhhhhh” resulted.<br /><br />He nodded his head. “You’re afraid, that’s good. Be afraid. I want your eyes looking terrified, your heart beating so it will burst, your body bucking on mine, grasping for me, demanding me. You will command me, I assure you. And I will command you in return.”<br /><br />“No,” she countered back in a heavy whisper.<br /><br />“Ah, you lie, little lady of darkness, you lie. Enjoy your fear.”<br /><br />His hands moved down the neck of her suit, and tugged hard at the fabric. She looked to see dirt smudges on the white collar, and the glint of polished steel in his hand. The knife cut quick, white buttons flying away. The jacket open, her breasts encased in white lace, in their state of recline against her chest moved in and out in an uneasy rhythm with the uneasiness of her breath. The bandit, Pietro, ran his thick hands over her flesh.<br /><br />“Such pretty tits,” he murmured, drawing the lace down, the swell of skin coming close to popping free. Tugging harder one nipple popped loose. “Ah, my satisfaction.” He grabbed the whole orb in his hand and squeezed so hard she winced and let out a tiny shriek.<br /><br />“If you speak, I’ll gag you; you say one blessed thing to me; you try to protest once, because I know what you want. Look at you!” He drew back and stared at her. <br />“You’re quivering so. You’re so turned on, you’re ready to cum right here, right now, with just the feel of your skin to skin inside your legs.”<br /><br />Her eyes met his, so hard not to; they charmed her, as did his voice, and hands, and the despicable words that were so true. She wanted to cry the way they abducted her heart.<br /><br />“You like not being able to talk?” he asked her. “I could stuff your mouth with rags, make you feel even more in my power. But then, that’s not necessary, is it? You’re already creaming in your panties. I can tell, I see the way your thighs move.”<br /><br />Exposing both breasts, he squeezed them hard, drew the nipples out between his thumb and index fingers, and pinched them so tightly that she whimpered.<br /><br />“You don’t want me soft, Elena Merino. You want me to fire the flame in your cunt.”<br /><br />He knew her name. How could that be?<br /><br />“You want me, Elena Merino,” his voice continued to caress her ears. “You want me here,” he said massaging her breasts, “and here,” a hand dropped to her crotch, “and here,” his fingers moved between her legs. With Elena trying to close them, he forced them wide, angrily.<br /><br />“You resist, you’ll regret it,” he said.<br /><br />“You’ll kill me?<br /><br />“Ah no. I’d rather torture you with the truth, Helena Celina Merino. I’d rather have you my slave. You can never lie to me, no matter how much you want to.”<br /><br />How did her know her name?<br /><br />He fondled her cunt to the rhythm of her bucking hips, her body countering everything her words might say.<br /><br />“Your eyes beg,” he said.<br /><br />Lifting the edge of her lace stocking, he ran his finger along the edge, then fingered the garter that held it tight. Changing directions, he pushed aside the panties and petted her pubic hair. She watched him as he pulled his prick free of his pants, and then it disappeared, her hips pulled forward to allow his penetration, the erection rammed deep, until she screamed.<br /><br />“Ah, gentle creature, what a heavenly home for such a hellish business.”<br /><br />Fucking her as much with his eyes that wouldn’t veer from hers, he rammed her hard, finding as he did that he didn’t have to force her legs wide for long. The resisting limbs yielded, allowing him to go deeper still, until he finished with a cry that battered off the battered ceiling, and echoed in her ears as she drifted away into an unthinking calm. The only agitation in her whole soul was the rising lust within her that would go unanswered. No orgasm, no shivering climax, no cry of satisfaction allowed—just left on the verge, obliged to wait.</span><br />
<br />
Copyright (c) 2014 Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-52422218572767675352014-11-28T16:04:00.002-05:002014-12-05T11:18:44.730-05:00Bound For Pleasure <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b></b></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>Bound For Submission</b></span></span><br /><br />He was one of many who wound me inside their erotic genius, <br />with the capacity to take my pliant flesh, <br />and capturing it, <br />send sensation soaring to limitless finales. <br />Stripped<br />clipped<br />extremities tied <br />bound for submission,<br />to be abused by lust and a constant lover,<br />used for sex and thrills and rude awakenings,<br />satiated midnight until noon.<br /><br />His devices won me.<br />With dark command, <br />fragrant body,<br />unyielding will <br />and the surprise of pain,<br />I succumbed to him, <br />answering his need<br />with my own. <br />I am his to control<br />it is for me to surrender<br />both of us bound for pleasure. </span></span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Adapted from the novel Bound for Submission by Lizbeth Dusseau</span></span></b>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-81518377393736592082014-11-14T13:45:00.001-05:002014-11-14T13:45:40.737-05:00Staked to the Ground<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-epR_cLM_FM4/VGY9Qnwh0FI/AAAAAAAAA_U/SEAm5b4cNXs/s1600/9781935897644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-epR_cLM_FM4/VGY9Qnwh0FI/AAAAAAAAA_U/SEAm5b4cNXs/s1600/9781935897644.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This week, winter swept into the Midwest with a vengeance...we've hardly recuperated from last year's polar vortex. Time to snuggle in with some sexy porn. What better way to beat the early winter blues than a hot BDSM fantasy scene on a warm beach...staked to the ground.</span><br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: black;">Excerpt from my novel:</span><br /> Undress Her For Dinner</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/Undress-Her-For-Dinner.html" target="_blank">For more information on this novel, click here</a></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was eight pm when JD picked me up at my apartment. I was on the street waiting for him, feeling strangely anxious. It was just our second date, but I felt oddly comfortable using the term boyfriend to define our relationship.<br /><br /> We drove north away from the city and the suburbs into Wisconsin, to a beach on a pristine lake, which appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the rolling farmland. The shore was lined with trees; a crescent moon glowed off the water. It was beautiful in the dark, a cool almost balmy night for that time of year.<br /><br /> We hiked to a section of clean beach sand near the water, where JD dropped the blankets he carried, leading me to believe that we would snuggle between them. <br /><br /> “Take off your clothes,” he told me. <br /><br /> I stood before him, nervously considering what sounded much like an order. <br /><br /> “Do it,” his voice, while remaining pleasant, had a terse bite behind it. <br /><br /> Shuddering with expectation, I immediately grabbed for the hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it up and over my torso. I was naked underneath, a fact that JD noted without comment. <br /><br /> I stared down, seeing my breasts and their knotted nipples glowing pearly white in the moonlight. My entire being brightened with sexual fire. He would fuck me right there on the sand! <br /><br /> Oh, but it was not that simple. <br /><br /> Without needing to be reminded, arousal dictating my next move, I continued taking off my clothes, removing my blue jeans and even the tiny panties that barely covered the small bush of hair at my crotch. <br /><br /> “Lie down on the sand,” he said. <br /><br /> I stared into his eyes, mesmerized and confused, but feeling oddly submissive to what seemed more like a demand than a request. I lay down as he asked, feeling a chill make my burning insides quake as the cold from beach sand seeped into my body. <br /><br /> “Spread your limbs, Natalie.” I loved the way the syllables of my name rolled off his tongue. Small nuances move me. This was one. He owned and controlled me in that moment, and I let him have me because the awesome sensations racing about me cleared out my fears. <br /><br /><br /> “Have you ever been bound for sex?” he asked. <br /><br /> “Once,” I admitted, sounding very tentative, “but it was hardly anything.” This was a lie, because I’d been bound dozens of times in the past, but I wanted to feel as if this was the first time.<br /><br /> “But I doubt you’ve been staked to the ground?” he suggested.<br /><br /> “No, never.” And this was true. But staked to the ground? My mind chewed on that thought, as nagging doubts about this night and JD surfaced quickly.<br /><br /> His smile appeared full pure evil, though the playful twinkle in his eye kept me from refusing him. <br /><br /> This was no ordinary staking. JD used four, two-foot metal stakes, frightening rods that once hammered into the earth could not be budged. Using a heavy mallet, he drove each stake into the sand at the four corners of my body. Then he wound my wrists with thick white cotton rope five times making perfectly neat side-by-side rows. He tied the ends to the three-inch notches at the top each stake. I couldn’t have been more bound, or more powerless to save myself.<br /><br /> “You’re surprisingly placid,” JD said, as he dropped between my parted thighs, his hand searching the valley between my legs. <br /><br /> “I don’t know what’s come over me,” I answered him. “I feel so helpless.”<br /><br /> “You are helpless,” he said. His face was filled with love and devotion I don’t remember feeling from any man, and yet, I’d just been staked to the ground. How could I possibly trust him when I hardly knew him? How could I be sure that he wasn’t one of those clever men who shrewdly seduce women one moment and turn on them viciously the next? How could I have allowed him to bind me, to stake me a deserted beach in the middle of nowhere? I must have trusted him or been so horny that I didn’t care if I died that night. <br /><br /> As the minutes passed I waited in wonder. My eyes never strayed from his determined expression or his virile body. <br /><br /> When he removed his sweatshirt and jeans, he revealed an eight-inch erection that stood out from his nest of black pubic hair like an angry spear. I caught his scent, the dark and musty aroma of his lust. Straddling my body, he crawled forward up my torso until his knees were on either side of my head and his prick touched my lips. <br /><br /> “Open up,” he said. <br /><br /> I did so naturally. This was a difficult position for a really good blowjob, but it was perfect for fucking my face, for shoving his penis down my throat, which was exactly what I expected him to do. I was sure that I would gag, as I often do when some guy’s trying a heavy-handed deep throat and I’m not quite sure it’s what I want. Even this time, my gag reflex waited on the sidelines, ready to suddenly clench up the muscles in my throat. But as JD slowly lowered his cock into my mouth, and my lips closed over it, I felt the penetration in a new way. Part of me opened with full acceptance—another first. I knew this was surrender, something I never imagined could be so completely arousing. My belly and crotch ached with every gentle thrusting move he made. His cock impaled me deep into my throat, then slowly withdrew to the tip only to dive down again, deeper and more forcefully. <br /><br /> “That’s it, girl. Just a little more,” he said quietly, as he worked my mouth. He moved slowly at first with his momentum gaining speed. I could sense he wanted to come this way, in total domination of the moment and me. I wanted that too. Was it the challenge of it? Was it true surrender? I’m not sure. But regardless of my inner motives, I began to suck, with my jaws working his powerful muscle in hopes this would make him climax quickly.<br /><br /> I suppose it did help. The energy radiating from his lower body washed over me. I felt not like myself, but part of the beach, the earth itself, an orifice and nothing more. <br /><br /> JD came with his body shaking frantically over me, his cock lunging ever deeper into my throat where he finally deposited his seed. I lapped the retreating organ greedily when he pulled out while still ejaculating copious amounts of cum in my mouth, on my lips and finally the last of his cum hitting my chin. <br /><br /> Spent, JD slumped exhausted on the sand beside me, while I lay stretched out like a sacrifice, unable to move, or wipe my face, or do anything to bring about the climax my body desired.<br /><br /> He stared at me, appraising my predicament with amusement. “A really good finale would be for me to get dressed and leave you here,” he said. <br /><br /> “Oh, but you wouldn’t,” I said with some certainty in my voice. <br /><br /> “Of course not,” he agreed. “But on the other hand, I’m not done using you. I would think you’d be a bit disappointed if I were.”<br /><br /> “Yes, I would be,” I answered. I wanted and expected him to pay some attention to my raw, wanting splayed crotch. <br /><br /> I gazed at his naked body, desirously. I don’t ordinarily think much of most men’s bodies—except for those that are perfectly sculpted by good diet and exercise. But how many of those men do you really get to fuck? Though JD’s body wasn’t one of those perfect ones, he did have an appeal that made me wish he would climb back on me and rub his sinewy muscles against my sweaty skin. The more I mulled that fact, the more my body responded. Yet, there I was desiring him but at his mercy, bound and staked and hardly able to budge an inch inside the tight constraints. <br /><br /> “Of course, I’ll do anything you want,” I replied. “Don’t have much choice.”<br /><br /> “That’s what I like about bondage,” he said. “It may reduce my options, but it grants me all the rights.” He was terribly smug and I loved that too. <br /><br /> Then, as if to rattle me further, he stood up and jogged to the water where he sank in over his head and washed the sweat away. Peering down over the ends of my toes, I could just barely see the subtle splash of water as he swam some distance and out of sight. My heart beat frantically—my mind raced with a hundred what ifs. Just before I panicked and screamed, I spotted his wake, and then his body climbing out of the wet darkness. He returned to me and dried himself on a towel. <br /><br /> “Damn cold,” he shivered as he vigorously rubbed himself. <br /><br /> I stared into his eyes, quaking, hot, chilled, confused. “That was a terrible thing to do.” I wanted to cry.<br /><br /> “You were worried?”<br /><br /> “Of course I was. What if…”<br /><br /> “Hush. Think about what you’re feeling, my bound beauty.” He put his toe to my crotch and wiggled it toward the center, raising that familiar sensation of desire. <br /><br /> He saw it in my eyes as I moved through the emotions of panic, fear and anger to what I wanted from the start. <br /><br /> Curiously, JD did exactly what I was hoping for. Although the cold water had shriveled his prick and balls into a tiny reflection of his more potent self, I knew that even as powerless as I was, I could take care of that condition. My body heat was on the rise again. <br /><br /> Taking the bait, JD dropped down to the sand and straddled my hips. Leaning forward, he rubbed his chest against my chest while covering my lips with kisses. I felt his cock rising between his legs as it rubbed against my lower belly and thighs. <br /><br /> “You’ll make me cum if you fuck me now,” I murmured. <br /><br /> He kissed me more. Then ran his tongue down my neck. He teased my underarms with nibbles so sensuous and tentative that I started to thrash about, pulling at the ropes that bound me. I mewled loudly, my excitement on such an edge I was afraid of where it would take me, afraid that I’d tear my limbs from my body with the violent gyrations. But I couldn’t stop.<br /><br /> “Look at me, Natalie,” JD said sharply. He clutched my chin in his firmly gripping fingers and stared down at me with hard eyes. The tumult of sensation quieted to a dull, but less vicious roar. “You lie still and allow. I’m in charge, not you,” he said quite calmly. “Contain your movement. Let what you feel brew like a great storm.”<br /><br /> “But I can’t,” I uselessly gasped, as I ineffectively arched my hips toward his. <br /><br /> He immediately slapped my face, the sound of it ringing down the silent beach. The slap so surprised me that for an instant I felt like a cowed and cornered animal, afraid and worried that I had JD pegged all wrong. At the same time, the heat of the slap radiated outward in another lustful burst of energy that swept my body. I could still feel the imprint of his big hand on my cheek, and then so much more as he began to move on me again. I would lie still this time.<br /><br /> On orders to contain myself, the physical sensations intensified, swarming like bees inside my body. I wanted to move on him in reply, but didn’t. I rather liked the threat hanging over me and my physical excitement bloomed. How was this possible? <br /><br /> From teasing me, JD’s cock grew hard as a colossal staff. Soon, the thing was poking teasingly at my center, like rapping on a door—but not begging. No. JD knew just when he’d thrust himself in me again and he waited, playing that torturous game of cat and mouse, until I found the torment unbearable. Panic rose as strongly as my sexual passion. <br /><br /> “Please, I can’t anymore,” I beseeched him.<br /><br /> I wanted him to strike me down again, and he did. He slapped my face for my complaint, and my body quieted for a few minutes as he taunting me with promises. Then when I was most subdued, JD suddenly impaled my cunt and began the relentless fuck to the finish. He didn’t care then that my inner need took over, that I thrashed like a beached fish, or whimpered in anguish. I was cumming. He was cumming. Both of us senseless and uncontrolled. We came until there was nothing left in him and little left in me. Although my spasms kept on even after he pulled out, we were both spent. <br /><br /> Finished with this scene, JD untied the ropes that bound my arms to the stakes, and one of the ankle restraints—thus, I was still pinned to the beach by that ankle, but free enough to move around.<br /><br /> I turned on my side and settled inside his arms, comforted by his strength and warmth and kindness, while the brutal sand beneath me reminded me of my submission and the hard heart in JD’s sadistic soul. With my mind now swept of all conscious thought, my receptors opened, able to discern truth without any blind spots to skew my perceptions. I detected a troubling uneasiness in JD. This surprised me. Here I was so content, even after being so roughly taken. Not knowing JD well, and still feeling submissive to his control of me, I chose to simply record my impressions and say nothing about them. This could be nothing at all, or something important. But I’d leave that answer for another time. </span><br />
<br />
Copyright (c) Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permission.<br />
<br />Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-52880633210448570612014-11-07T12:21:00.001-05:002014-11-07T12:22:32.571-05:00The Little Savage and her New Master...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZSkayaT9_Q/VFzxil_OvEI/AAAAAAAAA_A/lR5KM_7_KCU/s1600/Little-Savage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZSkayaT9_Q/VFzxil_OvEI/AAAAAAAAA_A/lR5KM_7_KCU/s1600/Little-Savage.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hot BSDM Erotica...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #45818e;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Excerpt from the novel <b>Little Savage</b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/Little-Savage.html" target="_blank">For more info on this novel click here.</a></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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. <br /> <br />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!”<br /><br /> He was mildly amused by her declaration. “Then maybe you should read something else,” he’d said. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> “Yes, sir?” Her expression was filled with hopeful expectation. <br /><br /> 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.<br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> “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.”<br /><br /> “Yes, sir,” she replied meekly, though as meek as her response was, he felt a rush of excitement from her feeding his own need. <br /><br /> 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.<br /><br /> He squatted down and rummaged through the items, which were not as he left them. “You’ve been through these things?” he asked.<br /><br /> She didn’t reply right away. <br /><br /> “Have you?” He persisted.<br /><br /> “Yes, sir,” she admitted, starting to blush.<br /><br /> “Yes, I suspect you would,” he responded, not all that kindly. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> He threw the feeling off as quickly as it arose. “Take off the t-shirt,” he ordered.<br /><br /> 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.<br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> “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. <br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> 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.<br /><br /> “Sleep nude tonight,” he ordered as he was leaving, “I don’t want clothes in the way if I need you later.”<br /><br /> 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.</span><br />
<br />
Copyright (c) by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permission.Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-81915477871572516962014-10-31T12:49:00.000-04:002014-10-31T12:49:01.224-04:00A Well-Punished Natalie, Spanking Erotica <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DdtIEREF330/VFOjNxON4oI/AAAAAAAAA-0/UV18WTbI33c/s1600/9781935897583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DdtIEREF330/VFOjNxON4oI/AAAAAAAAA-0/UV18WTbI33c/s1600/9781935897583.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Taken from the short story <span style="color: #351c75;"><b><i>A Well-Tethered Natalie. </i></b></span>This tale combines light bondage and spanking erotica into one sexy story...classic Spanking erotica, and one of many short stories in my collection <b><span style="color: #351c75;">Big Book of Spanking Stories. </span></b> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/Big-Book-of-Spanking-I.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Check this link for more info on this title. </span></a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This excerpt is a little longer than most...but I always thought the build-up for the final spanking payoff to be my favorite part of any spanking tale. The girl's got to earn it and this little brat certainly does... every smack of that leather strap. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /><br />The story begins this way...<br />His cowboy eyes were a little daunting. His grin was even worse. Natalie couldn’t decide if Ethan was a total prick or a little darling, the way he teased her. She was certain of one thing, the man rattled her, so much so, she wasn’t about to let him know it. That would give him far too much power over her. She settled into ignoring him with a passion.<br /><br /> Unfortunately—or fortunately depending on how you view it—Ethan could read her thoughts. He remembered kissing her in the barn the night of the barbecue. They were alone for the first time, and she looked so inviting. Her ample bosom swelled lusciously when she was out of breath. After he playfully “ran” her into the barn, he watched as she caught her breath, admiring the way her body moved. Leading her into a secluded corner, they kissed. She’d tried to wriggle away with a prim little protestation that he thought was rather cute, but he wrestled with her for a moment, grabbing her smaller hands in his larger ones and pinning them above her head against a post. That was when he felt the most curious rush of passion. She wasn’t exactly relinquishing to him, but she let him kiss her deeply, and responded with equal fervor to his probing tongue.<br /><br /> “You like being restrained?” he asked, as he backed away.<br /><br /> She shook her head in disbelief, but he could read the answer in her eyes. She was one hellava feisty woman, the kind he loved to tame. He almost wished he hadn’t let go of her so soon, leaving him to wonder how far she would have gone with her hands pinned in the air.<br /><br /> She took to ignoring him thereafter, but he wasn’t at all dissuaded. After all, that was what you could expect from a sassy woman like Natalie. It would make his conquest of her even more delightful. He would bide his time, and wait for the perfect opportunity to make his next move. <br /> <br /> Natalie was successful in eluding Ethan most of the time. But since saddling and stabling the horses was his duty, there was no way she could avoid him when she wanted to ride her horse, Dancer. Anytime she was around the barns, he flirted with her shamefully, even though as far as she was concerned, she gave him no encouragement. Ethan saw it differently. There was a passionate spark every time they were together, she breathed a little deeper, her cheeks would flush ever so slightly, and she’d avoid direct eye contact because she couldn’t bear to see the truth reflected back to her.<br /> <br /> Outside the brewing lust between the two, Ethan had a problem with Natalie’s outrageously independent spirit. The woman thought nothing of riding off for an entire day, to God knows where, without telling a soul where she was going, and when she planned return. They fought about this regularly. Ethan’s orders from his employer, Natalie’s father, were to keep her from going too far from the ranch. The man had long ago given up trying to rein in his often-rebellious daughter, so he’d given the job to his ranch foreman. <br /><br /> Ethan warned her every time she went out. He always asked where she went, but she’d never say. A half dozen times he went in search of the dark-haired beauty, only to see her riding toward him at some distance, almost as if she could anticipate his search, and was there to taunt him with her return.<br /><br /> “Don’t you ever get yourself lost, Natalie Martin, because I swear, I’ll tan that round butt of yours with my belt when I find you,” he vowed more than once.<br /><br /> She snapped back at him with a fiery flash in her brown eyes. “I’d like to see you do that!” She brusquely took off, with Ethan so furious that he wanted to take her pants down and spank her bottom right there on the spot. Being the boss’s daughter, he was quick to rant and rave about her bad behavior, but slow to act on his threats.<br /> <br /> One afternoon, after their brief kisses in the barn, Ethan set out to look for her when she wasn’t home by four o’clock. On this occasion, however, Natalie did not come riding in as he expected she would. He rode out in the direction he’d seen her take, hoping that she hadn’t veered off somewhere else – in which case he might never find her. There were clouds overhead, rain threatening. By the time he reached the creek, he realized there’s be a deluge long before he returned to the ranch. He called several times into the strong windy air, but heard no reply. Damn! He hoped she wasn’t so foolish to not respond. That would really piss him off! <br /><br /> Riding along the creek bank for some minutes, Ethan spotted Dancer on the other side of the rushing water, and waded across to find Natalie sitting on a rock nursing a swollen ankle.<br /> <br /> “I’ve had it in the cold water for nearly a half hour, it’s much better,” she said as he approached. No grateful “hello”, no smile, nothing to acknowledge that she was happy to see him. “Just help me on the horse, and I’ll be off.”<br /><br /> “Let me see it,” Ethan insisted, as he dismounted.<br /><br /> “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll wrap it when I get home,” she brushed him off. <br /><br /> “No. I want to see if it’s broken,” he answered sternly. He pushed her back down when she’d started to rise and made her sit while he examined her injury.<br /><br /> “Ouch!” she gasped at the mere touch of his warm hands. <br /><br /> “Might be broken,” he said, worriedly.<br /><br /> “No. It’s not broken,” she snapped, “just help me up and I’ll be fine.”<br /><br /> Ethan scowled, thinking about what he’d like to do right then, but he knew it was best to get her home as quickly as he could.<br /><br /> He was thankful that she was a good rider, and that Dancer was a good horse. Despite the pelting rain that soaked them to the skin, they made the trip back without incident.<br /><br /> “I knew this was going to happen someday,” Ethan scolded, as he helped her from her horse.<br /><br /> “Don’t start with me,” she said annoyed.<br /><br /> His eyes narrowed on her severely; his hands holding her firmly by the shoulders. “Don’t start with me! No more running off the way you do, you hear me?” he snapped at her angrily.<br /><br /> The passion between them rose, fiery, and intensely erotic. <br /><br /> She attempted to wrench from his grasp. “I’ll do what I damn well please,” she snarled once she finally shook free. “Now help me into the house.”<br /><br /> Ethan stepped back and eyed the little hellion. “Ah, the little princess needs my help,” he bit off. “I should let you hobble back to the house all by yourself.”<br /><br /> “And Daddy would fire you if you did!” Natalie charged.<br /><br /> Ethan shook his head, mocking her with a disdainful smile. “I doubt it. However, I’m gentleman enough to help a lady in distress, even if she’s acting like a bitch.”<br /><br /> “Don’t you talk to me that way!”<br /><br /> “As far as I can see, you don’t have much choice but to take it.” His eyes narrowed on her again. “And let me tell you something, Natalie Martin, next time you enter this bar, you’ll have me to reckon with.”<br /><br /> “What does that mean?” Her eyebrows were knit into a fretful frown, as if she might be just the least bit worried. <br /><br /> “You’ll just have to see,” Ethan advised her, smiling.<br /><br /> She took a breath, pushed back her rising emotion, and said, in an attempt to be contrite. “Please, help me.” <br /><br /><br /> A week later, when Natalie finally returned to the stables, she was still hobbling on her sore ankle. In spite of the fact that the ankle had not healed, she needed a good long ride.<br /><br /> “Don’t worry, I can do this,” she announced to Ethan, thinking that demonstration was the best proof.<br /><br /> As she lifted herself up on the horse, she could already feel a twinge of pain. She hoped Ethan didn’t notice her wincing.<br /><br /> “I don’t think you’re ready,” he exclaimed as he watched her turn Dancer toward the open stable door. <br /><br /> “I most certainly am,” she replied indignantly, and she headed out. <br /><br /> “If you fall?” he called after her. <br /><br /> “I never fall!” she said as she looked back. <br /><br /> “Well you damn well better stay close enough to see the barn. You get any further away, and I’ll live up to my promise.”<br /><br /> “And what promise is that?” she said, as if she didn’t know. <br /><br /> “To paddle your bottom.”<br /><br /> “Only if you can catch me,” she blurted out sassily. Giving Dancer a kick, she took off.<br /><br /> Natalie was gone nearly an hour, riding like the wind as far as she could, the feeling of freedom a tantalizing reward after days of being cooped up inside nursing her ankle. She didn’t give Ethan’s challenge a second thought, assuming it was just an empty threat. He’d never have the guts. However, unlike her usual excursions, miles into the countryside, she rode out as far as she dared and returned directly, not wanting to incite Ethan too much. Besides, she was still favoring her sore ankle and wasn’t sure she could mount Dancer without some assistance.<br /><br /> On returning, Natalie drew her horse into the stall and got down gingerly. Her ankle had begun to ache, so she took care not to put too much weight on it. Ethan was nowhere in sight; but having no desire to tangle with him, she hurriedly unsaddled Dancer and prepared to go back in the house.<br /><br /> Turning around, however, she ran smack into the imperious foreman, his tall muscled frame looming over her with eyes that bore into her with a fiery wrath.<br /><br /> “You’ve challenged me one to many times, Natalie Martin,” he said, as he grabbed her by the wrist.<br /><br /> “Let go of me!” she cried, trying unsuccessfully to wrench from his grasp. <br /><br /> Ethan pulled her toward the tack room, her throbbing ankle throbbing.<br /><br /> “Damn it stop. This hurts!” she wailed. He turned, gave her fierce stare and then scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the tack room.<br /><br /> “Please, I’m sorry,” she pleaded, but he was not dissuaded. Setting her down, he pushed her toward the workbench, then rummaged for something in the corner of the room. <br /><br /> Afraid of what was about to happen, Natalie eyed the door. <br /><br /> Seeing her sidelong glance, he said, “You try taking off you won’t get anywhere on that ankle and I’ll tie you to this post.”<br /><br /> The threat only made her more determined to break free; and while his back was turned, she headed toward the back door, retreating as quietly as possible.<br /><br /> “Ah, so you want to get tied up?” his voice reached out to stop her in her in her tracks. His hand swiftly followed, grabbing her arm. I should have known you couldn’t resist the thought of being bound.”<br /><br /> In seconds, Ethan had her wrists tied together, wrapped by a soft leather strap. Her arms were strung up above her and attached to the thick wooden post. She squirmed and wriggled and screeched the entire time, but her histrionics had no effect on Ethan’s resolve.<br /><br /> “If I were you, I’d calm my ass down, or you’ll be hurting that ankle again.” With that, he walked out of the door.<br /><br /> “Where are you going?” she shouted after him.<br /><br /> “I’m going to cool down your horse, maybe by then you’ll have cooled down too.”<br /><br /> Don’t you dare leave me like this,” she yelled. But she’d run out of bargaining power, now helplessly tied to the wooden post. Natalie yelled at him every few minutes, but Ethan was in no hurry to return. <br /> <br /><br /> Twenty minutes later, he popped his head in the door, “Calmer now?” he asked.<br /><br /> Natalie was indeed more subdued, but she was not about to hide her indignation over his treatment of her.<br /><br /> “You untie me!” she ordered.<br /><br /> He smiled, his eyes twinkling.<br /><br /> “This time, I have your father’s permission, so I don’t think you have any right to demand anything.” He stood back looking at her, admiring the fine line of her body. “You look pretty good like that,” he said. <br /><br /> “Okay, you’ve made your point. Now untie me.”<br /><br /> “I will,” he said, “after you’ve been punished.”<br /><br /> Natalie looked back at him, sheepishly trying to elicit some sympathy, but he was far beyond sympathy. Only one thing would soothe his ire.<br /><br /> To his delight, Ethan found a strap from a tangled mess of tack in the corner of the room. He remembered seeing the ancient looking thing, thinking at the time, that it would be the perfect implement to lay on Natalie’s sassy ass. It had a remarkably welcoming feel, as if it had been used many times for just such disciplinary purposes. Doubling it in his hand, he could easily stand the distance he preferred, and hit his target with a hearty wallop.<br /><br /> With her arms still secured overhead, Natalie’s fine rear end practically beckoned to be strapped. Encased in tight stretch denim, her firm round buttocks were definitely spankable. This would be a fitting and long awaited just desserts; and with that in mind, he let the strap fly, each strike landing on the center of her ass.<br /><br /> The captive woman began to wail almost instantly, with spirited protests interspersed with curses befitting the mouth of a sailor. Ethan ignored the senseless chatter and kept on with the punishment. She was going nowhere, his prisoner for as long as he chose. It was about time.<br /><br /> The strap continued to breeze through the air, landing smack after smack on Natalie’s round behind. Her bottom began to burn from the nasty sting. The gall of him! The sorry bastard would pay, she swore to herself. But as time went on, and more blows landed, she could feel something inside her relent. Like she wanted this. Like she needed it. Like she’d baited him. No, no, no! That wasn’t possible. Determined not to give herself away, she continued her impassioned cries to the very end, sobbing sadly when he laid the strap down.<br /><br /> “Now, Princess Natalie,” Ethan said, with a haughty air of command, “you can think about this for a while. You have no one to blame but yourself, little girl. Think about that!” and he started to walk away.<br /><br /> “Ethan please!” she stammered through her tears.<br /><br /> He turned and faced her. “Oh no, you don’t! Another word out of your mouth and I’ll take down your jeans and give your pretty bare ass a real walloping!” He wasn’t kidding.<br /><br /> Natalie bit her lip, holding back a bevy of protests. By then her arms were aching, and she wanted nothing more than to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. Clinging to the post in front of her, she held back her protests as he left her to herself and prayed that he would return and set her free. <br /><br /> Oddly enough, the longer she waited, the more her body brightened with the strangest feelings of arousal. She pushed back the idea that the punishment had turned her on, in some weird, ungodly way. Dammit! This could not be happening, but her body didn’t lie. </span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-10669838455907118792014-10-24T14:49:00.001-04:002015-05-25T15:12:21.906-04:00Pagan Dreams, Lesbian BDSM ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b><span style="color: #45818e;">Pagan Dreams</span>... </b></span></span>the first of my two lesbian novels. The story focuses on two lusty females taking their sexual desires to the hot extremes of bdsm sex. The novel has been re-released this week with a hot new cover. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/Pagan-Dreams%2C-Lesbian-Erotica.html" target="_blank">For more information click here.</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This week, a sale on all of our lesbian titles. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This excerpt picks up after Cassidy has had her first crotch piercing...</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> The day takes a lewd turn, as my impulses take charge of me. I can tell because I’m looking for some place where my lover Peach and I can hide together and not be seen while we get each other off. I know that we won’t survive this frenzied sexual heat all the way home. This time I take the lead, and we duck between two old buildings, into an alley that seems dark, even though the sun is still high in the sky. The shadows protect us as we find the perfect spot, where a sheltered stairwell appears behind the building as if it were calling to us. It’s cool sitting here on the steps, and deserted enough so we can play in peace.<br /><br /> Peach likes taking chances like this. I like taking chances when I’m as aroused as I am now.<br /><br /> She reaches to the hem of my skirt and I feel her hand explore until her fingers are at my cunt door and poking through. <br /><br /> “How does the ring feel to you?” I whisper to her as she gently grazes her hand over my new piercing.<br /><br /> “Oh, not now,” she says. To my disappointment, she’s suddenly perfectly happy to finger me until my crotch explodes and I buck against her hand. She always laps my cunt, but not this time. Still it surprises me that she ignores my new jewelry altogether. I know without her telling me, that she’s waiting for her special present, until we’re home again. I can only imagine now what she’ll do with it. I absurdly think of her hanging things from my cunt, making the ring protrude even more, making my labia out of kilter with the other side by attaching something heavy to this ring. That might please her sense of the bizarre. <br /><br /> After I climax, I press my lips against hers and flick my tongue inside her mouth. My own hand roams about her thighs and she begins to gasp. Just playing with her body, not even finding exposed skin, I find her alive with a powerful need. Before I even reach her cunt, her body tenses and she jerks spasmodically for several seconds. It’s a short quick orgasm. I call them her public orgasms because they happen so quickly. I’m often amazed by her easy performance. When we take our time, she has long rolling endings that I think will never stop. She swears mine are longer, but we’ve never kept time.<br /><br /> The sex makes me languid as we ride home in the heat. But my body has not been satisfied. My greatest pleasure is knowing we’ll spend the rest of the day and most of the next in bed together. I couldn’t have planned it better, even though I’m still angry that she takes such bold steps with me. <br /><br /> “Was there some reason for the choice of rings. It seems so deliberate?”<br /><br /> “I have petals, you have the rose,” she answers.<br /><br /> “Is that symbolic?” I wonder aloud.<br /><br /> “Perhaps,” she answers guardedly. <br /><br /> “Sometimes I don’t know what to make of you,” I tell her.<br /><br /> She chuckles. “You’re too cautious, you think too much,” she replies. She’s said this so often I’m sick of hearing those words, even when she’s right.<br /> <br /> I drag Peach into bed when we get home. Familiar territory and I’m even more bold. It doesn’t have the same thrill as a semi-public place, but there’s a lot more possibility inside our four safe walls. <br /><br /> I’m lying back on the bed with Peach between my legs, my eyes staring up at her. I catch her expression when she finds the ring on my cunt. Like a kid opening a birthday present, her eyes are wide with glee. Then her tongue playfully flicks the funny thing. I’m gasping, realizing that I need more and more and more. She pulls at the ring just a little; but it’s sore, and I wince. She takes my naked labia into her mouth and sucks it hard. Then she sucks my clit, and it burns; the pressure she uses hurts, though it nonetheless arouses me even more. These are just preliminaries. She would like it rough tonight; and I’d like it that way too, except I’m careful with my tiny wound.<br /><br /> Three fingers press their way into my sloshy gate. I squeeze them as hard as I can, seeing her smile, seeing infinite pleasure written in her expression. I close my eyes and imagine even more, more jewelry, more fingers, more women. My imagination takes off into a crude flight of extremes, tricking my body into thinking that I’ve disappeared into a world of carnal creation where nothing but sensation matters.<br /><br /> I cum. <br /><br /> This long wave of pleasure grabs me deeper than I’ve been grabbed in some time. Peach touches heaven with her skillful disregard to form. She breaks rules well, when I don’t. And now I’m grateful for every slap and pinch and bite, as the last waves of climax finally break on my cunt’s soft shores.<br /><br /> I give her everything she desires thereafter, with my hands and tongue. Her body rises and falls, riding a crest of waves that seem as unending as the ocean itself. I watch her firm strong thighs when they clench; I see the rose petals move as if they are waving in the breeze. She looks like raw lust, a bawdy obscene whore. (I imagine she’ll like my appraisal of her when she hears it.) <br /><br /> I often think, that though I have the corner on shadowy sexual fantasy, she has the daring essence to see it materialize. Times like this, she scares me. <br /><br /> She finishes, and we’re spent, at least until midnight, or whenever, when our bodies are aroused again.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This novel is available from Pink Flamingo Publications and the Erotic Book Network, along with ebook sites throughout the internet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Copyright (c) Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved.</span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-25455077826894789642014-10-24T11:35:00.000-04:002015-02-24T14:39:46.368-05:00Alone with the Master<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">(Book Cover Image removed to comply with Google restrictions on nudity)</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-size: large;">Part Two from Carly on Her Knees</span></span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Continuing Carly's adventures in Paris. First it was the dungeon scene, and now she's alone with a new dominant master, ready to be his slave...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A single, quivering light burned through the darkness of Haverleigh’s hotel room. Just enough for virtual strangers coupling in the dark, where the mystery and impulse of their meeting could be sustained. No jarring lights, no conversation to burst the erotic mood that swam around them. <br /><br /> Haverleigh sat back in an easy chair and observed his prize while she stood waiting in the shadows. “Take off your clothes for me, Carly. Start with the boots, then the jeans.”<br /><br /> “May I sit down?” she asked. <br /><br /> “No. I want you to stand so I can see you,” he replied, in a tone that implied she either obey the order or leave. “The boots and jeans,” he said again.<br /><br /> She began—the biting lip, the unseen blush and an awkward dance to pull off the thigh-high boots with nothing to help her keep her balance. Each article tossed in a heap beside her was a triumph of will. The boots and jeans removed, she was left with the sweater and hat, waiting for instructions.<br /><br /> “Let me see your tits,” he said. <br /><br /> She lifted her sweater above her chest and without his asking pulled it over her head in a single movement.<br /><br /> “My, my, you girls are more eager every year.” She could see the glint of his white teeth as he spoke; little else was visible in the dark but layers of breathing shadows. She wanted to rub herself, she was that hot. Play with her nipples. Stuff fingers in her pussy. Eager, yes she was eager, despite all the reasons she might have to fear the man. And now his haughty remark only amplified feelings of shame that welled up inside her and urged her to run. What was she doing here? What kind of slut had she become to turn herself into Byron Haverleigh’s newest bauble? What dark forces had he unleashed that drove her into this perilous place? Strangely enough, her lover Tyler was not even a passing thought.<br /><br /> “On your knees,” he said before she could act on her profound disgrace. Without thinking, she dropped down and crawled toward him until she was at his parted thighs. “You want to suck so bad that you can taste it,” he mocked her while shoving fingers in her mouth. “Is that it? Or do you want something more? You want to be beaten like Sashe, isn’t that right?” <br /><br /> Still sucking his finger, she looked into his barely visible eyes, wanting, hungering. He could obviously read her mind—so let him read. <br /><br /> “Yes, beaten. I saw you move against the wall. I saw the craving in your eyes. I know what you want, and if I’m guessing right, you’ve been hearing stories. Rumors abound about me. You think I’m not aware of that? You think I really care? You think that I haven’t been stalked by a dozen women before you? That I don’t know why you want inside my bed?”<br /><br /> “I don’t think anything like that,” she swore to him.<br /><br /> “No? Really?” he scowled and grabbed her by the hair. “You lie, girl.”<br /><br /> “No, sir. I’m driven by a desire to submit.” Though the line might have come straight from her lesbian lover Dana’s playbook, there was no trickery in the remark. It was as natural as rain upon her skin, as common as breathing for a submissive female. Of course Dana was right to assign her to this man—though she would never admit that to her. What Haverleigh meant to her was personal and she was definitely here for herself. Screw Dana’s plans. Carly understood better than ever how much she was hard-wired for submission; how much she relished the terror and fantasy that controlled her now.<br /><br /> “And the club gave you that desire?”<br /><br /> “No. My life does that on its own.”<br /><br /> “Then you’re the real deal. The bonafide subbie. A little slave girl, is that it?”<br /><br /> “If that’s what you want from me?”<br /><br /> He laughed, letting go her hair, thrusting Carly back on her heels. “Either you’re very practiced in the jargon, or you’re real. I suppose it’s for me to figure out the truth.”<br /><br /> She offered him no reply. <br /><br /> “Well, sub Carly, let’s see just how far you’re willing to go for your desires. There’s a bag in the corner of the room,” he motioned behind him with a nod of his head. “You can’t see it now, but you’ll find it once you head that way. Open the zipper. Take out the quirt on top and bring it to me in your mouth. And do it fast. I hate to be kept waiting.”<br /><br /> Disappearing into the inky darkness only raised her anxiety another notch. The thrumming in her crotch had turned it raw and wet, the spontaneous orgasms firing off almost made her moan. Still, she kept to the task, finding the leather bag open, not closed and the quirt as he said, sticking out of the top, as if it had been waiting for her to snatch it away. <br /><br /> “Get going!” he jumped on her impatiently when she moved too slowly. Then she scampered back to him with the quirt in her mouth, the handle dangling from one side, the business end at the other. <br /><br /> The implement hardly seemed formidable at first glance: the long straight shaft and the delicate fall were a graceful weapon. But it struck with a brutal snap, and as Haverleigh leaned back in his chair and thwacked her flesh—breasts, thighs, belly, wherever the quirt could reach—she took the punishment with hardly a moan—although had he enough light to see by, the pain she suffered would have been evident on her face. <br /><br /> “Too heavy?”<br /><br /> “No, sir.” <br /><br /> “All right then.” His enthusiasm was gathering. <br /><br /> Rising to his feet, Haverleigh strode to the side of the room and turned on a lamp that bathed the room in a soft, yellow glow.<br /><br /> “C’mere,” he ordered as he moved to a more open space in the luxurious hotel suite. The gold, the glimmer, the schmaltzy glitz of the room was sickening to her eyes; all that luster wasted on her simpler sense of taste. But that was beside the point when the glamour of the man and his wealth was forgotten amid the desire for pain that had suddenly risen up with a vengeance in her hungering body. <br /><br /> She arrived at his feet and waited for his next comment. “Ass up, subbie!” he ordered. <br /><br /> Carly dropped her head and shoulders to the floor raising her ass high and wide. The sharp blows that followed nicked her skin, caught meanly against her pussy when they struck the center of her sex, and burned her ass cheeks when they hit soft pliant flesh. Lost. She was lost, sensation building on sensation, each new pain absorbed into her body and setting off a new grinding, pleasurable spasm. <br /><br /> The cadence went on for several minutes until Carly was overcome and collapsed to her side. <br /><br /> “Get up!” he barked<br /><br /> She rose back to position, trembling and fearful, though her arousal seemed to soar even further.<br /><br /> “That was a stupid thing to do, subbie,” Haverleigh snapped, as he peeled off another dozen cuts in fast succession. “I give you pleasure, but maybe it’s punishment you want.”<br /><br /> “No, sir, no! I’m so sorry, please.”<br /><br /> “You can beg, girl, but I’ll do exactly what I want. You clear on that?”<br /><br /> “Yes, sir.”<br /><br /> He glared down at her quivering body and her red-streaked ass, then abruptly reached down and pulled her up by the hair. <br /><br /> “Your cunt as good as your ass for taking pain?”<br /><br /> She stared at him blankly, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”<br /><br /> “Well, let’s see. In the next room. On the bed.”</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
Copyright (c) Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permissionLizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-57174060879938530722014-10-17T11:29:00.001-04:002014-10-24T11:36:10.113-04:00Entering the dungeon...<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> A hot dungeon scene at a Paris club, as Carly watches her master play with another sexy submissive. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">First of two parts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-size: large;">Part One From Carly On Her Knees</span></span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">La Plus Sombre Terre—The Darker Earth—a sequestered club in the heart of the Paris nightlife, advanced on Carly like a dream, the smoke so thick, the music so rooted and seductive that she could sense without bothering to open her eyes what kind of club she entered on the arm of Byron Haverleigh. <br /><br /> “Don’t let it be said that I didn’t give you a good time,” he whispered in her ear as they crossed over the threshold into the teaming sexual environment. Her eyes and ears were assaulted by the sights and sounds; even the smells were pungent enough to lure her forward. She could almost taste the sex. Haverleigh was already wearing a mask, she was not. That this actually disguised his identity was not clear to her since the man’s distinguishing essence seemed written in every gesture, every movement of his body, even in the air that surrounded him. And Carly was on his arm like she belonged there.<br /><br /> “What is this place?” she innocently whispered, even though she needed no more clues than the sound of cracking whips and female cries screeching above the din of music and low conversation to know the purpose of the club. They moved through a thick crowd of people, some masked, some not, with Carly’s eyes darting from place to place. <br /><br /> “A dungeon, Carly,” he answered. “Whips. Chains. Pain. Screaming females. That sort of thing. Are you ready to run?”<br /><br /> “No, not yet. I haven’t really seen a thing.”<br /><br /> She saw his smile, his amusement. Far as she knew, he had no clue that she’d set him up—well, sort of set him up. But wasn’t that how it was supposed to be? She’d become his pet according to Dana’s instructions; from that point she’d follow his lead. The control was his.<br /><br /> In a room, far from the cadence of minor chords coming from the band’s guitars, a girl was tied to a wall of vertical bamboo poles, her breasts and pussy poking through the spaces between them, vulnerable to the attack from a whip-wielding master. He artfully cracked the leather against her exposed flesh, leaving her skin red and raw, the girl’s head thrown back in the ecstasy of extreme arousal. <br /><br /> Haverleigh let go of Carly’s arm and after exchanging glances with the master, he was handed the whip. With a nod to Carly he moved forward toward the writhing victim. <br /><br /> “Aw, Sashe,” his voice was low and gravelly. Reaching between the bamboo he had her by the neck. “Come back to me, girl.” He shook her hard and the girl woke up from the pain-induced stupor to rest her eyes on him.<br /><br /> “You have a problem with what’s been done to you?”<br /><br /> “No, master.”<br /><br /> “But you’re trembling.”<br /><br /> “I’m scared, master.”<br /><br /> “Scared of me?”<br /><br /> “Yes, master.”<br /><br /> Carly witnessed her tremor, the fear and lust contained in her heavily-lidded eyes. <br /><br /> “Then tell me you don’t want more and I’ll leave right now,” Haverleigh told the girl. <br /><br /> A moment of panic swept her face and she replied with a frantic, “No, no,” shaking her head as much as she could with her body tethered to the stakes. “Don’t leave me!”<br /><br /> Haverleigh reached low between the bars this time and grabbed her ass. “Simon has had your tits and cunt. But what about your nasty ass,” he said as he squeezed until she shrieked. <br /><br /> “Please, master, beat me!” Her cry whispered and needy. <br /><br /> Haverleigh walked around the bamboo wall to the opening at the far end, then moved to the space behind the bound girl where he began to lay the whip against her back and ass. The shrieks and screams came on again, while Carly watched in mesmerized wonder. She’d seen this scene before; she’d been victim to similar ones when tortured by her lover James, but this was not the same kind of rote demonstration she’d experienced. <br /><br /> The girl’s body and Haverleigh’s cadence of strikes needed no preliminary warm-ups to have them in the throes of a powerful back and forth between master and slave. In fact, the two seemed like one from the start; as if this was an old relationship and they were simply continuing what had already begun some time ago. <br /><br /> Already Carly could feel the pulse of desire take hold in her lower regions. With liquor flowing through her veins, her inhibitions loosened until she was unable to disguise the seductive movements of her groin as she pressed her ass against the wall behind her. Even without rope, she was as immobilized as the girl tied to the bamboo wall. Carly’s mind leapt forward, imagining that the forceful energy of Haverleigh’s immutable control held her in place. She could hear his commands inside her head, feel his breath on her neck, and that distinct whisper of air that shocked the skin just before the whip reached out to mark its target. Her flesh was not the flesh that suffered the callous blows, but she felt the impact just the same, every jolt from the girl registering in her own physical form. All cogent thought seemed to vanish into the well of her natural desire for such shocking pain. Maybe once or twice with James she’d gone this deep, but never in such an atmosphere, with a watching audience hanging on to every invigorating moment. That she was not the center of this spectacle, the one on whom all eyes were focused filled her with envy. If it were she suffering on that rigid bamboo, she would be flying in the same realm of sensation as the lucky girl. <br /><br /> Was it envy written in her reflexive movements? On her lips or in her eyes? Could her panting breaths be noticed, or the hunger in her body detected? Not once did she see Haverleigh’s attention waver from the bamboo girl. Did he even remember that she was there? His intent, his focus was solely on the savagely coming female writhing erotically against the bamboo poles. When he moved to her side and placed his hand against her ass, his whispering was unheard by the curious audience. But when he finally pulled back and returned the whip to its owner, there was a smile broadening on his face and a playful malevolence in his eyes. <br /><br /> With his task finished, he moved directly to Carly’s side and pulled her toward him, his arm going around her waist in a gesture of ownership, though he made no comment as they moved back through the club toward the entrance.<br /><br /> He doffed the mask at the door and tossed it in a garbage can, then led Carly to the street. <br /><br /> “That’s it?” she asked, when they were yards away from La Plus Sombre Terre, headed back from where they came.<br /><br /> “So, you wanted to stay?”<br /><br /> “No, no, I suppose not,” she replied, though she really would have loved to have stayed and taken the girl’s place on that wall of pain.<br /><br /> “I thought we’d find a place to fuck, if that’s all right with you,” he said.<br /><br /> An instant of unimagined pleasure raced down her spine; a physical reaction he was sure to have felt when he was holding her so closely. “That is what you had in mind, isn’t it?” They hadn’t missed a step as they walked in the misty Paris night. He hadn’t looked at her, nor she at him, but they seemed as joined at the hip as any couple in love. <br /><br /> Carly really didn’t know what to say in response to his direct question, but it was not conversation Byron Haverleigh wanted, just her body and its savage need. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Part two, Carly's turn next time!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Copyright (c) Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This novel is available in Paperback and Ebook from Pink Flamingo Publications and The Erotic Book Network, as well as ebooks sites throughout the Internet </span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-28092856599032904422014-10-10T16:36:00.001-04:002014-10-10T16:36:48.450-04:00On her knees in the shower...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VdFG7xNDFMA/UiDfoFfbYII/AAAAAAAAAVM/7pJHhfSUdoY/s1600/9781937831813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VdFG7xNDFMA/UiDfoFfbYII/AAAAAAAAAVM/7pJHhfSUdoY/s1600/9781937831813.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This sexy slut toys with submission in this "steamy" scene from my novel: </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">An Innocent Obsession</span></span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Steam billows from the bath, rolling like warm mist off the ocean. Leaning against the doorframe, I stare through the shower stall at Alan’s body whitened by the fog. Rivers of water run down the glass, and down his thighs, and through the thick, dark hair on his chest and legs. Savoring his tight ass—like rounds of grapefruit I could pluck—my body quickens.<br /><br /> If he knew I was here, he’d invite me in. <br /><br /> So certain of that fact, I wander on tiptoe across the emerald-green tiles, inviting myself inside his shower. The door squeaks and he turns around, startled. Then his smile brightens as he sees the water soaking through my tee shirt. The sexy truth appears from beneath that clean, plain white. My broad aureoles bear lazy nipples at their centers—the buds tiny and teasable. These mounds look as though they are made of white cotton suspended on air inside my translucent shirt, floating toward him begging. I beg for what I want, wondering if he’ll accept the seduction or send me away. This is only the second time I’ve sneaked into his apartment and I worry that he’ll be mad. <br /><br /> With his scrotum in my fingers, I move the liquid sac across my palm as I stare into his brown eyes looking for approval. His cock begins to harden, throbbing rapidly to an erection, and then he tears away my nylon shorts, letting them drop like a wet rag to the shower floor. So, now he has my crotch in his hand, like I have his in mine—though his hand grabs while mine caresses. I don’t need more approval than that. Alan’s other hand squeezes my ass until I feel a painful, pleasurable surge of satisfaction, and slipping from his grasp, I drop to my knees, water falling from overhead like raindrops to drench everything still dry. <br /><br /> “Good bitch,” he says hissing, a hand running through my wet curls. I like him talking nasty, hearing the edge in his voice, as though he were demanding I serve him like a slave. I do this on instinct, the experience a natural one, as if my life were meant to be understood on my knees, gazing upward.<br /><br /> Now, my eyes rest on the organ beating at my face, as the swollen spear sticks up straight, pointing somewhere skyward. Wiggling into his crotch, his night musk lingers in the air about my nostrils and I breathe in its mysteries—he hasn’t yet washed the fragrance away. <br /><br /> He doesn’t smell clean, and I wonder where he was last night. And who he was with? Is that another woman’s perfume I sense, or did he just jack-off to porn? I smile thinking all these things, then swallow that smile as I swallow his cock. With my lips opening, the head glides inside. Drawing back the skin with my hand, my fingers slide along the stalk, moving up and down, while my tongue laps away the last of the salt and sweet cum I taste there. <br /><br /> He purrs hungrily as an animal would, winding his hands through my hair and pressing himself deeper down my throat. He’s anxious, wanting me as much as I want him. <br /><br /> We get to rocking inside this slippery stall, so hard he finally takes his hands away and grabs for the sides while I work the climax from him. Does he really understand how well I manage him? He thinks he’s in control, but I know better. So what if I have to do this from my knees, and listen to his crude conclusions about my soul when we’re not having sex. <br /><br /> I know he thinks I’m a whore, though he doesn’t have the guts to say so. It wouldn’t matter to me. I know what I am. Whore doesn’t fit, but the slut word does. I’d never take cash for what I do; if I can’t enjoy screwing my men without money then they aren’t worth my time. <br /><br /> In the center of this driving rainstorm of water, I taste something sweet; and although it quickly drowns away, there is the fresh sexual scent of him as he begins to erupt. I let the cum spurt down my throat, pulling it inside me as though I need it to live. I know my survival hinges on this. Hummm, sweet cream. Like I could nurse at this erection all day long. Were that so, I’d find one man and stick with him. But since the anatomy of my life doesn’t work that way, I keep moving from one man to the next. <br /><br /> “Get on the bed and stay on your knees,” he says while slapping my water-soaked face. Impishly crawling from the shower stall, I inch my way along the emerald tile and the dark carpet covering his bedroom floor. Scampering like a puppy to the top of his mattress, I wait, heinie waving like a red flag; cunt and everything else about me dripping wet. When he comes to me, ambling slowly from the bathroom toweling his face, I know he’s admiring my ripe flesh, almost wishing he hadn’t cum so soon. He would have liked poking that rod deep in my belly, shooting himself to the ends of the channel as though he were making babies. I’m surprised he even bothers with me now; once Alan’s had his fix, he rarely spends the time required to get me off. <br /><br /> Today, I’m lucky. He presses his hand at my snatch and begins to play. I know I don’t have long, but I only need a few quick moments until I’m far from the planet, mindlessly ecstatic. My randy home bursts. The muscles in me crunch down wishing for meat, but are content with a few deft fingers. I squeeze, bear down, squeeze more, and clench with my half-loaded pussy, while my ass grinds on air. His thumb moves higher, pressing at my anus. It’s too much to hope that this will be some drawn out venture. It’s come and gone in less than sixty seconds, but well worth that swaggering journey across his emerald tile.<br /><br /> “So, did I leave my door unlocked?” he asks.<br /><br /> “Un-huh,” I answer as I pull off my wet tee shirt and sit naked on his bed. <br /><br /> “What are you going to do about your clothes?”<br /><br /> “Borrow yours,” I conclude. “Or stay here long enough to use the dryer.”<br /><br /> “Can’t. I have a meeting in…” he consults the clock on nightstand, “in twenty minutes, Clarise.”<br /><br /> “Then a tee shirt and shorts will do.” Alan’s slim enough that we can share clothes; though, I’m sure it won’t be a habit—not with this man.<br /><br /> He stares warily my way. <br /><br /> “Come on, hon, I can’t go out of here like this,” I whine a bit.<br /><br /> “I think you look just fine,” he tells me smirking.<br /><br /> “Of course you would.”<br /><br /> I wait as he searches through his dresser and pulls out what I need. Blue nylon running shorts and a tee shirt from the Boston Marathon, 2005—faded but wearable. Might even improve my image. <br /><br /> “So, were you planning to seduce me, or was this an accident?” he asks.<br /><br /> “Sort of planning.”<br /><br /> “Horny?”<br /><br /> “Of course, and I thought of you first.” I lie, and he probably knows this, but we’re not worried about that sort of thing. Lovers like us always lie. I think the ego stays intact better that way. I was actually thinking of Joseph this morning when I woke up, but he’s away on business for a week and I can never see him this early. Stockbrokers wait until the last bell sounds for sex. I have been hungering for him lately—more than the others, and I don’t understand why. He’s aloof, inconstant and sometimes brusque, while I treat him like royalty. Anyway, Alan, the book editor, had to do. He’s rarely ready for work before ten. Too bad he has a morning meeting or we might have done it right and spent an hour in bed.<br /><br /> “You know, you really are a submissive slut,” he tells me, again, for the hundredth time.<br /><br /> “Submissive? Right. In your dreams, Alan</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">,”</span> I spit out sarcastically.<br /><br /> He laughs at me. “Someday, you'll have the courage to let me show you what that means.”<br /><br /> I smile flippantly as I sashay out the door. Behind the smile, I feel that subtle something that always arises when he talks to me about submission. <i>No man can make me submit! </i> I’d like to tell him...but then, I'm starting to wonder if that that’s still true. I really do enjoy myself on my knees.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Copyright Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permission. </span> <br />Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-92189875404694846462014-10-03T12:31:00.000-04:002014-10-03T12:33:56.432-04:00Another orgasmic joyride with you<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x21679puniM/U0hPHI6hI_I/AAAAAAAAA38/2dkVZ3EiD2Y/s1600/shutterstock_126061487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x21679puniM/U0hPHI6hI_I/AAAAAAAAA38/2dkVZ3EiD2Y/s1600/shutterstock_126061487.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image licensed from Shutterstock</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This prose poem...the submissive in me speaking to the Master in my life... </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Back At It Again </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Two thirteen in the afternoon and I’m licking copious
amounts of girl cum from my fingers after another explosive orgasm </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">thinking of all the spasming instants when our bodies
touched</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and my physical
energy fired off </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">like a lightning bolt striking high between my legs…</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Like when in the park my hands reached out for yours and
yours for mine</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">like two lost souls finding something to hold on to…</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">or the first kiss in that same place, when our lips met and
the tremors began</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and have continued every time our lips have met since</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Or on the porch in that first hour, when kneeling between
your spread thighs,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">naked and in cuffs, going down on your erection, you squeezed
me </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">with your powerful muscles tight against my body</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and I shuddered at the wonder of this new feeling,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">the first time I felt owned by someone other than myself –
by you.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And in the bedroom that same day, </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">going down in the most intimate of sexual service between
your legs, </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">when I began wriggling my hot crotch against the sheets</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">aroused and spasming in sensuous surrender, </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">having found a place of sexual heaven for you and a new aphrodisiac
for me</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Then later when you held my ass in your steely grip,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">as if staking your claim to my body, riveting yourself to
the woman I am,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And you maintained that I’m a slave without an ounce of
doubt,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and a new door suddenly opened in me with an erotic thunderbolt</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I could go on with how you hold my arms bound behind me</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Smack me with your leather belt</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Speak to me as my owner, </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Insist I call you master – as a good slave will</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">(And I am, Master, your good slave)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Each stellar instant is just a moment of memory, </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">but it comes with an electric charge</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">that hits me in the sexual middle of me, and as soon as I
think of it, </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I’m back at it again reveling in the lust that rises wildly
within,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">as it takes me on another orgasmic joyride with you at the
center.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Copyright (c) 2014 by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved </span></div>
Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-85815512154660199232014-09-26T11:24:00.002-04:002014-09-26T11:31:05.254-04:00A litte necessary discipline<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Back to my literary roots today with a bit of domestic discipline between a sassy wife and her cowboy husband in this sizzling spanking tale.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0I0hOSbNWII/VCWDJo61EwI/AAAAAAAAA-I/KoeImYBL7Xc/s1600/shutterstock_78188101%2C-for-web-blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0I0hOSbNWII/VCWDJo61EwI/AAAAAAAAA-I/KoeImYBL7Xc/s1600/shutterstock_78188101%2C-for-web-blog.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image licensed from Shutterstock</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Confessions of a Sassy Wife</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: large;">Spanking Short Story </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Part One<br /><br /> Half of me despised him the day we were married, the other half was passionately in love. I must say, we’ve had a most unusual love affair.<br /><br /> A month before our wedding day, Rys Montgomery showed up at the ranch, a ne’er do well cowboy with a tight ass, plenty of muscle and rugged good looks. Seeing his bleached hair tossed by the June wind made me shudder with interest. It was the first hot day of summer and he needed a job. My dad needed a man to break horses, so he was hired. Daddy didn’t like him but he was desperate for a decent cowboy, with all the stallions pawing dangerously in the paddock. <br /><br /> He did warn me first thing after he hired Rys, with his finger wagging in my face, “Stay away from him, Blair. He’s trouble.”<br /><br /> I gave Daddy my patented smile, deciding that I’d do as I pleased with Rys Montgomery, or with any other man I met for that matter. Frankly, I didn’t think I’d like Rys in the first place. However, seeing that finger in my face, I decided to take another look. If it would piss daddy off, I was game. <br /> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately, I didn’t like Rys much better getting to know him—the way he treated me. I’d been breaking horses on my daddy’s ranch for years, and considered myself an excellent horsewoman. To have this haughty bastard treating me like an incompetent damsel pissed me off. If I hadn’t fallen off that horse and broken my wrist, he’d have never been hired. <br /><br /> Still, for all his haughtiness, he had a helluva sexy swagger. He was quite a sight to look at and his smile could make up for a lot of faults. We settled into a gentle war of wills, a tiff or two on the side, but mostly we ignored each other. He thought I was a peevish brat and I didn’t change my mind that he was an egotistical jerk.<br /><br /> The day I suddenly found myself in bed with him was clearly a jolt to my sense of order. We’d been tussling with words over the ‘right’ way to break the chestnut stallion, suddenly words flying so fast we could hardly spit them out, and then like a textbook romance we were fighting to get our clothes off and scramble upstairs to his bunk. It was a wordless fuck, lots of grunts and groans and the most terrific cum I’d had in months … maybe a year. <br /><br /> When it was finished, we lay on our backs side by side – me trying to come to grips with the fact that I’d just fucked a man I practically despised – and suddenly, he let loose with the most startling proposition I’d ever been offered.<br /><br /> “Let’s get married,” he said.<br /><br /> “What?” I thought he was joking.<br /><br /> “Let’s get married.”<br /><br /> “Whose universe are you living in?” I answered sarcastically.<br /><br /> “The one where people that love each other get married,” he stated flatly.<br /><br /> “You think sex is love, you’re wrong,” I snapped. I almost laughed in his face.<br /><br /> “We have all we need – great passion. You can’t say our exchanges aren’t filled with uproar and heat.”<br /><br /> “You think great passion is enough to build a life on?”<br /><br /> I turned over so I could look in his face, see if he was just pulling my leg. He wasn’t.<br /><br /> “Some of the best marriages are built on less than that.”<br /><br /> He stared at me, the gritty style, the winsome smile, the philandering twinkle in his soft brown eyes.”<br /><br /> “Besides, I’m completely in love with your hair,” he said running his hand along the smooth black surface. And your face.”<br /><br /> “You like my face?” What a sweet compliment.<br /><br /> “I guess a poet would say you have alabaster skin.” I could tell he wasn’t used to sentiment, that’s why this was so especially endearing. He was obviously being honest, which made me wonder if he was more of a person than I believed him to be.<br /> “You really are serious about getting married, aren’t you?”<br /> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> He smiled, not the snicker I was used to, but a genuine smile.</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> ***</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br /> Daddy hit the roof when we told him the news. I thought he was going to break something seeing us hand in hand, the marriage certificate on his desk. <br /><br /> “Of all the idiotic things you’ve ever done, girl … I ought to horsewhip you. And you too.” He glared at my new husband. There was that finger again, waving in Rys’s face this time. “I swear, you don’t take care of her, you run off, you get mean and start drinking like your kind do, I’ll horsewhip you too, before I kill you!”<br /><br /> “Mr. Trabor, Blair’s my wife,” Rys replied quite calmly. “I will take care of her.” <br /><br /> Seeing my father’s face was one of the prettiest pictures I’d ever seen. The old coot didn’t know what to say. He had no choice but to welcome my husband into his house, and nothing could make me happier! <br /><br /> My father had been brutal, not ever physically, but his emotional power over me was something I needed to shake. Marrying Rys in defiance of his wishes was just the act I needed to declare my freedom from the tyrant. Some of my friends told me I should just leave the ranch, but I love it too much, the horses, the open land, and my place in this tough world. No, getting married was a good accommodation.<br /><br /> It wasn’t until a few weeks later, after our initial honeymoon was over that I began to wonder if I shouldn’t have been more careful picking the man to mock my father. Living with Rys had certain challenges. If it weren’t for great sex, and the fact that my father would chortle meanly in my face, I would have kicked him out after the second week. <br /><br /> First, there was his obstinate streak. As soon as we went back to work following a brief post-wedding hiatus, Rys started to get pretty nasty about my taming horses. Said it was too dangerous. I bristled instantly at that judgment and we argued about it often. The war eventually led to the second challenge my new husband posed, one that hit me out of the blue. I never would have guessed that my life could take such an amazing turn.<br /><br /> We’d been sparring for three days about breaking Brassy, a young colt that liked to buck and rear. His temperament was one of the worst either of us had ever seen, but he was a beautiful horse and would bring a handsome price once he let someone sit in the saddle and ride. Regardless of Brassy’s nasty nature, I was quite sure I could handle the animal. After all, he was still small, and to me, not as tough as many of horses I’d worked. <br /><br /> “You’re not going to take this one, Blair,” Rys told me, giving me this stern, ‘I’m not budging an inch’ kind of look. “Your arm's just healed; you’re going to break something else.”<br /><br /> I stared at him as a saucy malcontent, something malicious from my tongue about to spew, but then I stopped. Rather than piss him off with utter defiance, I decided on another tactic that I thought would get what I wanted, just in a different way. Exiting the stable, not another word said, I told him I’d make him lunch and he seemed pleased I relented.<br /><br /> Later, after Rys had eaten—while he was still jawing with another ranch hand—I slipped out the back door and returned to the stable to start working the colt. The young animal was wild, but manageable, at least a first. With a little coaxing, I almost had him in bridle and bit. However, when the sound of a truck in the yard made the animal rear back, I scrambled to get away from his descending forefeet. Slipping on a puddle of water, I scurried to avoid the enraged Brassy. I’m afraid I shrieked in fright. By the time I got to the paddock fence Rys was on the other side, while I was on my hands and knees looking at his muddy boots.<br /><br /> “What the hell, Blair,” he roared. He leaned in over the fence and pulled me to my feet. Not stopping there, he drew me over the fence with a jerk so powerful that it shocked me. Dragging me to the stable in short order, I was flung over a sawhorse having my ass spanked like a naughty brat. I kicked and shouted and tried to wench away from him, but he managed to keep one arm firmly grasping me so I couldn’t break free. <br /><br /> “Don’t you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me?” he roared.<br /><br /> “Take your hands off me, you bastard!” I shouted back.<br /><br /> “Oh, I’ll spank you as long as I think you need it.” The palm of his hand came down so fast I was beginning to feel a burn through my jeans. The more it hit, the more I struggled, the more Rys gripped me tightly. “You defy me like that again, I’ll take off my belt and thrash you!”<br /><br /> “Just you try!” I threatened, even though I had little to back up that challenge. He had me handily under his control. He pinned me with his left hand, while his mean right hand just kept slapping my buttocks. There was nothing I was going to do about it but submit. He kept on for several minutes. Once he thought I’d had enough—perhaps because I’d stopped fighting him so much, I was getting awfully tired—he finally stopped and let me up.<br /><br /> My face must have been as flushed as my ass was underneath my pants. He held me still, but not as firmly, and looked down at me with a glare I hadn’t seen since before we were married.<br /><br /> “You hear me, Blair Montgomery, you’ll work the horses I tell you to work, and you won’t challenge me again.”<br /><br /> I was stunned. Another time, another place, I would have spit in his face, but I was too dazed to offer him one decent protest. Not to mention the fact that I was weirdly aroused by the whole ordeal.<br /><br /> “You understand me?” he asked, just to be sure.<br /><br /> “Yeah, I guess I do, but …” I said weakly.<br /><br /> “But what? You think a husband doesn’t have a right to punish his wife?”<br /><br /> Of course, I was thinking that, but oddly that wasn’t my question.<br /><br /> “Is this something I can count on?” I wondered aloud. <br /><br /> “You bet it is. We’ll do just fine, Blair, if you subdue this willful streak in you. You don’t, I’ll deal with it just like this. And trust me, your ass will be bare next time. I’ll give you something that will really hurt.”<br /><br /> “What’s going on here?” I heard my father’s voice. Brushing my hair from my face, I looked up flustered, seeing him standing in the stable door.<br /><br /> “Nothing’s going on, sir,” Rys answered. <br /><br /> Surprisingly, that seemed to be enough of an answer for the man and he turned and walked away.<br /> <br /> When it came to taming horses and women, Rys seemed to have a similar ability. He certainly had me in his control. I’d never considered myself a shrinking violet, but I was totally dumbfounded by the spanking and what it did to the image of my marriage and my husband. I suppose I figured that I could control Rys, just like I controlled every other man in my life. But that day changed everything. To my chagrin, I found myself being much more careful around my husband, a little more respectful. Though there were times that I could hardly hold my tongue, I made more of an effort to do so and keep the peace between us.<br /><br /> I remember the night after that first spanking, when we were together in bed. It seemed as if we’d upped the ante in our already steamy sex life. My body quaked with desire far beyond anything I’d experienced with Rys before. I was as wild as that stallion, and with Rys’s hand clutching me where he spanked my ass, bringing back the memory of the pain he inflicted, I thought the fierce orgasm would never end. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, but that that moment I was feeling too my pleasure to object. I know Rys noticed, but we didn’t say a word about that amazing fuck.<br /> <br /> Spanking wasn’t mentioned for at least three days, until I’d become a little more used to the idea and not so embarrassed. We were sitting at lunch, eating our meal casually when I finally mentioned that alarming moment.<br /><br /> “I still can’t believe you did that,” I said, not bothering to tell him what I was referring to.<br /><br /> “Can’t believe what?” he asked.<br /><br /> “That you did that, you know … in the stable, when I tried breaking Brassy.”<br /><br /> A smile broke out on Rys’s face. “You can’t even say the word, can you?” Seeing his expression I regretted having broached the subject. “Yes, you got spanked, didn’t you?” He deliberately emphasized the word. <br /><br /> Yeah, I was rattled by it. “So, how come?” I asked.<br /><br /> “Because I love you. And because I was so worried about you taking chances with no one around, I’ve never been so pissed.” He looked like he was getting pissed again.<br /><br /> “And that’s how you show love?” I ventured again.<br /><br /> “One of the many ways, Mrs. Montgomery. Face it, you married an old-fashioned guy, and for better or worse, you have me just the way I am. You’re not going to change me, likely any more than I’m going to change you. But I will give you a piece of my mind and a piece of my belt, if you screw up again.”<br /><br /> His expression was tough, his eyes were focused and clear, and it was clear to me that he meant every word he said. I’d better face the truth now as fight it.<br /><br />Part Two coming soon!<br /><br />From my Spanking story collection, Cowgirls & Angels. Copyright 1998 © by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved.</span></span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-61394523605852383922014-09-22T11:09:00.002-04:002014-09-22T11:09:58.838-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4WDtLS8xPw4/VBx6lU0GHII/AAAAAAAAA9k/cEU9qUBvGRo/s1600/9781934349007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4WDtLS8xPw4/VBx6lU0GHII/AAAAAAAAA9k/cEU9qUBvGRo/s1600/9781934349007.jpg" height="320" width="197" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It's a war between Doms for this lovely sub. And now, Eden's former Master returns in the dead of night to stake his claim... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Excerpt from<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #073763;"> <span style="color: #a64d79;">Adam & Eden</span></span></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/Adam-%26-eden.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #073763;"><span style="color: #a64d79;">For information on this novel </span></span></span></a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Jacob stared in the window at Eden Rose from the patio outside her back door. Her apartment was easily accessible from the street, up the fire escape. <br /><br /> Midnight, Eden was at the piano playing music, looking melancholy. A bottle of scotch sat on the edge of the baby grand, a shot glass beside it. One hand played a melody while the other held her head in her hand. She hummed as she played, words beginning to trip through her brain, but not yet put on paper. She was strangely methodical in her manner of writing music, though it was a method only she understood. It didn’t matter that anyone else did, only that she was getting attention in the music world for what inspired her.<br /><br /> When Jacob slipped into the room through the unlocked door, Eden was so immersed in her work that she didn’t hear the quiet footfalls of his approach. Not until he was at her back, and she jumped feeling his hands clutching her shoulders, did she realize the intruder was there.<br /><br /> “Jacob, no!” she shrieked, but then his hand was over her mouth. She tried to bite his fingers, but he slapped her face and then clamped his hand back over her lips with a bone-crushing tightness.<br /><br /> “Don’t say a word,” he whispered. “Not one word.” To ensure her obedience, he pulled a ball-gag from his pocket and opening her mouth with his fingers pressed it inside. The strap was fixed behind her head. She was at his mercy.<br /><br /> He extinguished the single lamp in the room as he dragged her from the piano bench, her arms flailing as she tried to pull away. But with his large hands and strong grip, the fight was useless. After stripping her of her robe, it was easy work to have her wrists bound behind her. Jacob knew where to find the leather straps and harness, the playthings that would raise her body heat. Pushing her toward her bedroom, he chuckled knowing he had her won. She wasn’t resisting at all. Eden was so easy.<br /><br /> “You think you can get away from me, bitch,” he chortled in her ear as he undid the wrist cuffs from behind and then fastened them to the rod swinging over head. “You are so naïve and foolish.”<br /><br /> He slapped her ass with his hand, then buckled the collar around her neck tightly so she could feel the constriction in her throat. She had to gasp for air. <br /><br /> “Relax, slut, you’ve got a long and welcome night. That femme uptown you played with doesn’t hold a candle to me. Why she didn’t even leave marks.”<br /><br /> Eden was sinking into him, intoxicated by words. Dizzy from the constraints, she let the surging in her abdomen turn erotic, her hips undulating against his hand. <br /><br /> “That’s it,” he purred. Pressing his palm over her pubis, he held it tightly in his fist and pulled down. She squirmed and cried with the shot of pain, while fingers in her vagina teased the syrupy concoction of sweat and sex juice. <br /><br /> A clamp came down on one nipple and the pain sparked. She jerked and he slapped her face. A second clamp on the second nipple, more pain, another jerk and another slap. Preordained, ritualized, but yes, very welcome. He was right. She didn’t want to tolerate the abuse but the fire in her now was too severe for her sex to ignore. The wild rush was as sweet as words of love, and she let her head fall back as he began with the whip and crop, one in each hand. She traveled light-years in seconds, joyriding through a wave of delicious heat and pain. Exhilarating pain turned her insides out while he turned her outsides into raw, scorched flesh.<br /> <br />The multi-taloned leather whip flailed on her breasts and belly, sensation streaming like ocean swells crashing as breakers on hard sand. The crop cut hard against her flesh. He was erratic and sporadic, mocking her as he stalked her quivering body, then going eye to eye with her so she could see the vile expression of triumph on his face. The laughter, the scorn, the jubilance of his sadistic mien shot right through her. When she closed her eyes, he slapped her face again.<br /><br />“Don’t do that again. You’ll look in my eyes, bitch, and remember who I am. How I’m the champion of your greatest cause—this perpetual sex machine. He gripped her cunt and shook it hard, then fixed a clamp over her clit so she screamed a muffled scream into the gag.<br /><br />From behind, he let the whip fly fast and hard, with not a second between the strikes. On her back, then to her ass, so they were heated and hot. Then the crop again, that horrifying one with the thin end and the little tied tail that bit viciously into roughed-up skin. She'd be marked with bright red weals before he finished. A terrifying reason to rejoice. <br /><br />She was losing it by the time he burnished her thighs and lay into that tenderness creating another horror. Her mind simply vanished and there was nothing but pain, and then nothingness, and then nothing at all … she’d disappeared without a trace … gone … flown away and lost forever on a river of erotic feeling that could never be better than this. This was why she loved him ... once.<br /><br />She returned to the real world with the feel of Jacob’s hand between her thighs, his fingers pressing her to climax … a long mellow spasm, then and the beautiful sensation afterward … softly moving through her body. <br /><br />“I’m so good to you, darling Eden. You treat me like shit trying to fend me off. You suppose you’re going to tell your attorney about this little caper? About how easily you give in to me? You going to try and change your name again? Try to hide, maybe? If I didn’t think you were so scrumptious for my own needs, I’d find you pathetic.” <br /><br />He was undoing her from the bar overhead, but he left her hands manacled together at the wrists. Removing the gag, he pushed her to the floor and pressed her head down against the wood with the heel of his boot. <br /><br />“You look good like that, whore, don’t you?”<br /><br />She didn’t reply.<br /><br />“Don’t you?” he pressed harder, angrily.<br /><br />“Yes, sir,” she answered.<br /><br />“And you’re mine, isn’t that so?”<br /><br />“Forever and always, sir,” she replied without thinking.<br /><br />“I will always own you,” he swore.<br /><br />She did not reply.<br /><br />“I WILL ALWAYS OWN YOU!” He let the crop rip against her upturned bruised butt, the narrow end landing in her ass crack.<br /><br />“Ah, nooooo!”<br /><br />“Say it bitch!”<br /><br />“You’ll always own me, sir,” she spit out loud and clear.<br /><br />“That’s better. Now suck my cock.”<br /><br />He helped her to her knees, and pulled her toward a chair where he sat back and she remained between his open thighs. Her hands couldn’t play with him easily, but her lips could and they covered the erect stalk. With his hand at the back of her head, he pressed her down on the organ and fucked her mouth. It made her gag, but he made her relax. Opening wide for him, her lips and tongue worked hard bringing him off. Then pulling her head back, he shot on her face, on lips and hair and down her chin. The smile on his lips was reminiscent of times before when he was ecstatically jubilant mastering her.<br /><br />She didn't want this. A new master was waiting in the wings...and yet, there was something about <i>this</i> master, about Jacob, she simply couldn't resist. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Copyright (c) Lizbeth Dusseau. All rights reserved. May not be used without permission.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7560011252527784678.post-683244620378762222014-09-19T14:16:00.001-04:002014-09-19T14:19:38.243-04:00Cure for a misbehaving wench...<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-inMXpaRfIis/VBxw-FKex9I/AAAAAAAAA9Y/G2eRv-5meCU/s1600/9781937831912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-inMXpaRfIis/VBxw-FKex9I/AAAAAAAAA9Y/G2eRv-5meCU/s1600/9781937831912.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It's time for a little hot OTK action this from this Old World tale: </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">After a murderous incident leaves the high-spirited Fiona to fend for herself, she is rescued by a handsome and secretive blacksmith, Joshua Kane. Falling under his dominant spell, the lusty red-head gives up her virtue to have his love, only to find herself often at war with the controlling man. To her dismay, the sometimes gentle, sometimes ruthless Joshua, has his own way of handling her stormy tantrums. The palm of his hand or the taste of a leather belt are always ready to tame this volatile brat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Excerpt from: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">The Barmaid & The Blacksmith</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><a href="http://www.pinkflamingo.com/products/The-Barmaid-%26-The-Blacksmith.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Click for more info on this novel</span></span></a></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> It was late when Fiona woke the next morning, since it was nearly dawn before she fell asleep. Joshua was already up and out of the room. <br /><br /> Finding the sour smell of liquor lingering in the air making her stomach turn, she quickly rose with a fresh dose of righteous indignation rising within her. After dressing, she grabbed Joshua’s soiled clothes from the floor, stripped the bed, and then bundling everything together, she went downstairs. It was not her usual day to do the laundry, but she’d do it anyway. Perhaps the activity would work off the anger that had not nearly been spent the night before.<br /><br /> Downstairs, the two men looked fresh enough, sitting by a well stoked fire, drinking coffee. Charles was smoking a pipe.<br /><br /> “Yer late,” Joshua exclaimed, seeing Fiona emerge. She scowled at the remark. “But the sleep did you well, you’re beautiful as ever,” he added. Apparently, he’d returned to his usual good humor, nothing like the man he was the night before.<br /><br /> The fiery redhead gave Joshua a brisk smile before she moved toward the kitchen.<br /><br /> “Fi, don’t be rude to our guest. I’m sure he’d like to meet you. This is Charles Dabenow, an old friend of mine from London.”<br /><br /> Fiona curtsied as the man turned around to eye her. “Sorry to cause you such trouble last night, miss, ‘friad I was a bit overdone.” <br /><br /> “I would certainly agree with you there,” she snapped haughtily. He had a charming smile that Fiona readily dismissed as insincere. She could think of nothing else to say. “Shall I make you breakfast?” she addressed both men.<br /><br /> Joshua looked strangely befuddled by her attitude. “Please,” he said.<br /><br /> She nodded to the two men. “I’ll call you when your meal is ready and you can serve yourself.”<br /><br /> “You’ll serve us here,” Joshua corrected.<br /><br /> “I think not!” she answered boldly, just before she scooted out the door.<br /><br /> Some minutes later, Joshua joined her in the kitchen.<br /><br /> “Don’t sneak up on me,” she said, whipping around to face his exuberant grin.<br /><br /> “You’re still angry,” he acknowledged, amused by her mood, as if observing a young child in the midst of a temper.<br /><br /> “As well I should be, Joshua Kane!” She said no more, busying herself with breakfast.<br /><br /> “Do I owe you some report?” he asked.<br /><br /> “Oh, you gave me yours last night,” she reminded him. She wasn’t often a haughty woman, though now she was.<br /><br /> “But you’re not satisfied?” Joshua asked.<br /><br /> “I have no right to be otherwise,” she said, while getting a tray of biscuits ready for the oven.<br /><br /> “But you’re still upset. Let’s be out with it!” <br /><br /> Fiona turned and stared him down, not knowing exactly where to begin with her fury—and fury it was welling up inside her again.<br /><br /> “I was worried sick over you when you didn’t come home. It was three o’clock, sir, when you told me you’d be home at sunset. And then, you take your pleasure with me, give me no comfort at all, treat me as a servant, ready to do your friend’s bidding, while he’s destroyed my room, mud everywhere. I’ll take all of that, but I don’t like it!” she fumed, then turned back to her work.<br /><br /> “Is that all?” he asked.<br /><br /> She whipped around again.<br /><br /> “NO! I don’t like the foul way your breath smelled! Now, I thank you to leave me to my work.” She pushed by him to fetch more eggs.<br /><br /> The blacksmith had never seen Fiona quite like this. She was rather arousing when she was in a stew. Her cheeks flashed as brightly as her red hair. He supposed that she was likely right; he’d treated her shabbily. And yet, her behavior was unacceptable. Though he didn’t like tussling with an angry woman, he wouldn’t tolerate her being rude to his friend.<br /><br /> “You may be righteously angry with me, Fi, and that we will discuss as civilized people at another time. But now, lass, I can’t allow you to refuse serving my guest.”<br /><br /> “Oh, but I will refuse, sir,” she countered him.<br /><br /> “Still?” He looked at her surprised by the quick retort.<br /><br /> “Indeed, I refuse!”<br /><br /> Joshua’s eyes narrowed seeing that she was not relenting. “Perhaps you’d like a trip to the barn, a reminder on your ass of whose home you abide in? You’re not a haughty wench, but you are acting like one now.”<br /><br /> “I told you, I’ll not apologize for my feelings.”<br /><br /> Joshua’s gentle, reassuring calm was turning to anger.<br /><br /> “Then perhaps, it’s to the barn to teach you some manners.” He grabbed her hand.<br /><br /> “What are you doing?” she asked as she tried to wrench away.<br /><br /> “I’ve not made myself clear?”<br /><br /> He was finished with words, and before she realized what was happening, they were out the back door and crossing the yard on the way to the barn. Once inside and moving swiftly, Joshua took a length of leather from the wall to use as a strap.<br /><br /> “Bare your ass,” he ordered.<br /><br /> “I will not!” she blared, as she tried to bolt for the door.<br /><br /> “You will indeed!”<br /><br /> “Not on your life,” she roared.<br /><br /> He grabbed her arm, their eyes meeting just inches apart. Their fury rose in tandem.<br /><br /> “All right then,” he said evenly, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">“</span>I’ll bare your behind myself. It’s not as if I haven’t already seen it.”<br /><br /> Dragging her kicking and screaming to a bench in the back of the stable, Joshua sat down. Doubling the leather in his hand, he raised her skirt to find her bare bottom; and while she continued to wiggle and squirm, he flailed the strap against her ass, determined not to stop until he’d raised a scarlet blush on her plump white bottom, and taught his bratty lover a necessary lesson.<br /><br /> “Stop it!” Fiona wailed. She struggled to free herself, but it was no use; the passionate fury of the strap continued.<br /><br /> “You can’t do this!” she roared again.<br /><br /> “Seems, I am,” Joshua roared back. “Teach you to curb your anger and your tongue.”<br /><br /> The strap hit hard, the impact making her burn everywhere. This was so much harder than the playful spanking he’d given her the day before. To make matters worse, he kept up the whipping, one fierce stroke after another, until her bottom felt as if he’d lit it on fire. She couldn’t bear another smack. Oh! But another she’d bear indeed! <br /><br /> He paused to let her catch her breath, but it was only so she could restore herself so he could start in again. The smacks continued until the color of her rear cheeks was a vivid red, and a blotchy purple where the strap hit the hardest.<br /><br /> This was as fierce as any whipping Fiona had ever had. She may have screamed and cried, but it was clear that Joshua wasn’t about to stop – not until he was ready. <br /><br /> When he was finally done, she lay limp across his thighs, exhausted and sobbing. <br /><br /> Gazing at his handiwork, Joshua was satisfied with the results. Fiona’s bottom glowed with a red fire extending from the top of her ass to her tender thighs. It should be enough to teach her proper etiquette, he thought.<br /><br /> “Now, lass, you’ll return to the house, apologize to Mr. Dabenow, and serve us our meal. You’ll not cross me again, will you?” Joshua pulled her to her feet, and looked her in the eye with his expression firm and determined. <br /><br /> “No, sir,” she replied, meekly. She snuffed, still crying softly, she was too stunned to say anything more.<br /><br /> Hearing the contrite nature of her response, Joshua rose from the bench and returned the leather to its place on the wall. <br /><br /> “I’ll use it again if I have to. Don’t you forget that,” he warned.<br /><br /> He waited at the door so she would leave ahead of him. On once returning to the kitchen, Fiona finished the half-done breakfast and politely served it to Joshua and his guest.<br /><br /> Just as she was about to leave the two men in the dining room, Joshua halted her mid-step.<br /><br /> “Fi!” he addressed her. “Don’t you have something to say to Charles?”<br /><br /> She turned back and blushed, remembering Joshua’s instructions.<br /><br /> She cleared her throat and finally spoke. “I’m sorry, sir, that I was so impertinent,” she told the fair young man. She curtsied politely. “I rather lost my head.”<br /><br /> Looking amused, the young man smile. Though he was not sure what had transpired between Joshua and Fiona, he could guess it was some drastic measure that changed the lovely young Fiona’s belligerent manner into one more gracious, befitting her natural kindness. He had to admit, he liked the results.<br /><br /> Fiona, meanwhile, remained in a daze. Her anger, while tamped down and put in its proper place, had not been entirely squelched. And yet, every time she thought of Joshua’s command over her, the breathtaking way he’d delivered the biting punishment, she had the oddest feelings surge through her. Ones she was not about to admit were intensely passionate. Oddest of all, she could imagine falling into the bed with the domineering brute, and that wasn’t an unpleasant thought at all. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Except (c) Copyright Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. May not be used without permission. </span>Lizbeth Dusseauhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03643008901052803127noreply@blogger.com0