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An Innocent Obsession - eBook

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An Innocent Obsession by Lizbeth Dusseau

Clarise’s sex life includes hot threesomes, bondage and a craving for submission that increasingly lures her into risky sex. After a nasty fall, she recovers in the backroom of her friend, Henry’s, tobacco shop, where the man makes custom harnesses for female submissives. Clarise’s fascination with his leather work turns into an obsession when Henry refuses to make a harness for her. Determined to bring her fantasies to life, she stalks the man, only to find herself suddenly in the hands of mysterious new dominant lover, who puts her through a grueling trial of sexual servitude that will test her submissive resolve...and her limits. When he finally releases her, her desire for submission is still as strong as ever. She's driven by an obsession that only a Dominant man can control.

Consensual BDSM including slave training, ponygirls and sensuous erotica.


“You look good,” he manages the compliment while I’m shaking out my hair. The curls are like little rivers, with the muddled colors of my streaked brown hair becoming more noticeable when they’re wet. When my hair is dry, it sort of floats together like it’s natural—as though I don’t spend hours with Ziggy, the hairdresser, getting it right.
I’m vain about just this one thing—my hair. If my body is a little plump by current standards, it doesn’t matter. I have a theory about bodies, that size doesn’t matter, or shape, or even comeliness. Only energy matters, form without substance is lifeless and can never be sexy. I know my form generates warmth, and that the look of everything about me—wild hair, full breasts, and a hip-rolling ass—turns men on. I have plenty of men—falling into relationships I don’t ask for as easily as walking down the street. They like how I look and even better how I feel. Choosing the ones I want, I go with men who alarm me, and make no promises.
“Thanks,” I say in the wake of Alan’s compliment. He hasn’t stopped staring and that’s an even better compliment. “And thanks for the unlocked door.”
“And if it hadn’t been?”
Sporting a cocky grin I say, “I would have waited until you were out of the shower.”
“Then I would have been late.”
“Then we would have had to fuck fast,” I rejoin smiling as I jump off his bed.
“This was fast,” he reminds me.
“But it was good,” I sway myself past him looking for my sandals.
“You’re always good, Clarise.”
“But try to keep a lid on this sort of stunt.”
“I mean not so often in the morning.”
“It’s only been twice.”
“And what if I’m here with another woman? That’s a strong possibility.”
“New girlfriend?”
“No. But I have other women and it could get awkward.”
“It doesn’t have to. I’d sidle up to both of you.”
“I wish,” he says disparagingly. “Women I date don’t do women.”
“How would you know, have you asked?”
“Trust me. They’d be giving up too much control.”
“Really? I would think that giving up control is what sex is about. Makes sense to me.”
“But not for some.”
I laugh. “Suppose that’s why you have me,” I quip while I’m starting for the door.
“Clarise,” he calls.
I turn back. “The office this week?”
“You have a message you want me to deliver?”
“I’m sure I can find one.”
We stop the banter there and I leave thinking it was a pretty good morning.
I’m always on a high and relaxed after good sex. My bicycle moves under me like I’m part of it. After great sex, I can’t ride at all, since I’m too removed and unfocused. That’s why quickies work during the day.
After Alan, I go directly to the message center and pick up my first assignments. A delivery to a small manufacturing plant ten blocks up, almost out of my territory, but it will stretch my legs. And then my regular route. There’s a note from the tobacco shop. There will be cigars for the skyscraper barons… the fat asses I find difficult to stomach. But then I can smile—the best part about the cigar trips is Henry—whose tobacco shop on 16th street has always been one of my favorite stops. The aromas energize me, and the man himself seems to make sport of baffling me.
On the outside, Henry seems docile; but I’ve always had the feeling that there’s a good deal more under his sweet reserve and smoldering grey eyes.
After enjoying the thought of him, I suddenly find myself frowning. There’s the slip of paper in my hand. Third one this week; and an irritating tingle rises up my spine sending a nervous shiver everywhere that should be calm. After all, I just had sex and hour ago.
It’s always the same. The pale green paper, that insipid shade of green they call institutional—because it’s supposed to be restful to the eyes. I doubt my admirer has any clue about that. I’m sure he snatches whatever’s in his seedy apartment. I keep imagining him with horn-rimmed glasses and nerdy shirts, or maybe it’s rimless coke-bottle lenses and denim. Unfolding the green paper, there’s another simple message, which I’ll stab through the spindle on my desk at home. There are five now, I think.
“You’re not getting what you need. Take your time.”
What’s he telling me that I don’t know? This is so frustrating; I want to pound my fist on something. Handle bars? The door? My locker? How about the pillow at the head of my bed? The one that lays empty waiting for a man’s breath mingling with mine.
Who the fuck is this bastard, making comments about my love life and my current state of neediness? Telling me what’s supposed to be kept a secret? Doesn’t he have any brains at all? If he’s trying to seduce me, he’s failed there miserably.
I wonder, too, if I’m being stalked. If I have reason to fear some creep darting out from dark alleys, or accosting me in elevators, or clutching me from behind, whispering these strange thoughts in my ears. Oddly, my crotch starts to burn when I read his messages. Damn desires! I need less what’s in my mind and more real men. I don’t need phantoms, but real men with muscles, hearts and big fat cocks.
Whoever he is, he knows me. If only he’d declare himself, then he’d be real. I could touch him, feel him, fuck him. But, except for green folded papers, he’s silent and unseen.

Artist Credit

(c) Shadowplayers.com

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Product Reviews

  1. Posted by Donna Tubbs on 23rd Apr 2010

    An Innocent Obsession, Reviewed by Donna Tubbs

    This book is intriguing, confusing, and frustrating! The exquisite writing of this author leads us to believe that we are reading about a very shallow, domineering, nymphomaniac. She journeys from one sexual episode to another. With her domineering actions and manipulative ways, she gets what she thinks she wants although her thoughts give the reader a hint at how confused she really is.

    Like many people, Clairse tries to find happiness in the arms of many men, only to feel unfulfilled later. She has many lovers and a stalker (or secret admirer!), who has been leaving ‘notes of conscious’ on her personal belongings. The reader can tell that someone is trying to help her get in touch with her darker side… but she doesn’t know she has one.. yet! The transformation begins to happen when Clarise meets Henry, the local tobacco retailer. She has an ugly spill from her bike and is carried by loving hands to his back room. When she regains consciousness, she finds some intriguing leather items hanging from the wall. Thus her “innocent obsession” with submission begins. Clarise runs from her true feelings. She, like most women, shows her dominant side just to find happiness. She finally comes to realize that love is a risk and trust a valued commodity that every submissive must possess.

    Finding that special person is hard for all of us. Funny how frustrating it is finding that special person, especially when they all look so good and tempting from where we stand ... but, oh, how rewarding it can be when he/she is finally found. This book pulled me into Clarise’s frustration, hope, anguish, longing… all in search of what she desires! And, oh, what torment she receives when she finds the wrong man! A suspenseful erotica story!! A story that is hard to put down for very long.

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