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Fear No Evil - eBook

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Fear No Evil by Lizbeth Dusseau

Every year at the summer solstice, Priss, Lydia and Jack celebrate their joint birthday. This year, they turn eighteen and Lydia and Jack are about to leave for college. It's the only time they'll have to usher the virgin Priss into womanhood. One minute they are laughing and drinking beer in the old boathouse, the next, the two are on her, passionately making love. In one decisive moment, they change Priss's life forever. Her best friends now become her dominant lovers, and each time they come home from school, they take the deeply submissive Priss into the heart of her naturally acquiescent desires. While being spanked, bound, and used for their sexual pleasure, Priss finds the sexual ecstasy she craves. Each time she surrenders to their kinky demands, her love for Jack and Lydia grows.

However, the trio's once idyllic life in a small Lake Michigan resort town is rapidly coming to an end. The world around them is crumbling, with the wars and natural disasters of the first quarter of the 21st century, sending Lydia and Jack into government service halfway around the globe. Unable to guarantee that they'll come back, they make Priss promise that she won't wait for their return. But while they write her letters filled with tales of sordid love affairs, Priss sits at home, lost and lonely without them. Her life takes an even darker turn when her ruthless boss at a munitions plant sets his sights on her. Priss has nowhere to turn, until a sparring relationship with the sexy drifter Dalton suddenly explodes in a night of hot sex and hot romance. He too seems to understand the kind of kinky turn-on Priss lusts for, and their hard hot sessions leave her breathless and wanting more.

But like life itself, nothing in Priss's world is certain. Will the mysterious Dalton be there when she needs him most? Will Jack and Lydia return to claim her? And can Priss handle the powerful forces that drive her surrender to those who would use her as their personal plaything?

A sensuously layered novel that plumbs the depths of Dominance and submission, sexual healing, and sadomasochistic desire.


A couple quick maneuvers and he had me over his shoulder, carrying me into the boathouse, while I kicked and wailed and beat his back with my fists.
“Put me down!” I shouted.
Next thing I knew I was on my feet again, flung over the side of the old workbench, my butt bared.
“…Five…six…seven…eight,” Lydia was rattling off the number of years with a vengeance, striking me with a two inch wooden slat she’d picked up off the floor.
I struggled angrily.
“It’s just a birthday spanking, Priss. We didn’t want you to feel left out. She’d paused long enough to allow us both to catch our breath, and for just a few seconds caressed my stinging ass with the palm of her hand. Then nine… ten… eleven…twelve, all the way to eighteen. By the time she finished, I was panting hard and worried about the dreadful build up of feral energy that suddenly turned the vicious spanking into something quite different.
When Jack moved in and took her place, I could feel his masculine aura swoop around me in a most uncomfortable way.
“Haven’t I had enough?” I whined as my blushing face gazed into his. With Jack in command, the mood in the boathouse shifted, becoming more playful, no longer laced with the edgy anger that fueled Lydia’s attack. His bare hand was on my bare behind, squeezing the cheeks with a definite purpose in mind, although I had no idea what it was. Then, suddenly, Smack! His hand came down firmly on my warmed behind. Smack, again. I felt it all the way through my body, to toes and fingers and my jittery belly. Smack for a third time, I was dancing on my toes. But not because it hurt that badly. After every firm crack of his palm on my squirming bottom, he rubbed the sting away, then he smacked my ass again. By the time he got to ten, my mind was off somewhere beyond the present, my body flying through feelings it had never had, queasy, sexual and wonderful feelings spiked with a drunken exhilaration that would scare me just as soon as the eighteenth smack landed on my well-worked derriere.
“What a pretty color!” Jack exclaimed. He stood back admiring the sight, and I pretty much let him, until Lydia’s blunt observations suddenly brought me back to reality.
“Just think, Jack, we could have been giving the little brat spankings like this all along. Might have made this little bitch behave.”
I jumped upright and turned around, frantically trying to pull my shorts back over my sore behind.
“What do you mean behave?” I blurted out, fuming like a petulant child. “Like you two have ever behaved yourselves!”
Jack started laughing, then a sly Lydia joined him and I couldn’t help myself. Confused, furious and strangely elated, I dove into Jack’s chest pounding it hard. Then we had a threesome hug so filled with melancholy and hungering want, and a fear of the unknown future that it had us furtively wiping our eyes, clinging to one another, afraid to let go. It wasn’t uncommon that our threesome would descend into fits of laughter, or flaming rage. When we were younger we had no clue what these emotional events were about. At eighteen we were old enough to realize that just living made us touchy and irritable and stressed out, that we mourned our fatherless world even though none of us had any idea what it would have been like to have normal families and normal lives. Did anyone live normally anymore?
Our eighteenth birthday celebration began with a bang, not unlike celebrations in our past when our fired-up energies would violently clash. But unlike other birthdays, this one was set against a new backdrop, and a new reality that we all needed to accept. We hated the idea that the peaceable kingdom of our lives was doomed to fall away, but it would…in fact, it already had. Jack had signed on to the ‘four year road to hell’. So had Lydia, we’d just learned—which had been Jack’s justification for the punishing spanking he claimed he owed her. She promised him she wouldn’t sign up, just as I had promised. But Lydia has never been particularly good at keeping promises, and this one in particular was especially impossible.

Artist Credit

© Ben Marcato, www.ben-marcato.com

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Product Reviews

  1. Posted by Unknown on 23rd Apr 2010

    Fear No Evil by Lizbeth Dusseau

    Reviewed by Lancelot Knight

    Fear No Evil takes place in the not too distant future. America now has basically compulsory service for everyone, and the country is embroiled in many foreign wars. Bombings and terrorism are rampant.

    Far from the wars, in an idyllic setting, Jack, and Lydia celebrate their eighteen birthdays by deflowering Priscilla and introducing her to the Dominant/submissive lifestyle. Priscilla discovers that she is a natural submissive and revels in her new found sexual appetite. The three of them become a close threesome. Priscilla enjoys Lydia’s lesbian pleasures nearly as much as she enjoys Jack’s masculine domination.

    War, however, takes her two lovers far from her, and Priscilla is left alone to discover what it means to be a submissive. She takes on a libertarian lover (yes, Virginia, even libertarians can enjoy the lifestyle). Dalton takes her more deeply into her submissive self.

    As always, Ms. Dusseau mingles sharply evocative scenes of spanking, whippings, bondage, exhibitionism, and lust, along with a fast moving plot and plenty of romance thrown in to boot.

    An enjoyable read for women as well as men, Fear No Evil is a fine addition to Dusseau’s substantial body of work. Her many fans will not be disappointed with this latest.

    Reviewed by Tobias Tanner

    Some folks are just plain lucky.

    They get to know others who touch them deeply, who share some part of their lives in such an irresistible way that they are compelled to make them their own. Over time, we (I mean they) fall a little in love with them, or at least with our (I mean their, damn it!) perception of them, and are enriched. Oh, well, the hell with it. We, and I might as well say we, because that's how I mean it, might not be friends or confidants or lovers, but we appreciate those kinds of people, every one. Artists, for instance, speak to us through their work. Daubs of paint on canvas show us awe or pain or rue; sculpture displays the care and loving focus of form and function under the artist's hand; and writers, as they say, write, and in so doing, lead us to their hearts.

    In Fear No Evil, Lizbeth Dusseau, novelist, wife, mother, submissive, student, publisher, teacher and oh, so wonderfully human, shows us WOMAN, in no uncertain terms, and in bold capital letters. And not just any woman, you understand. That would be too simple. What she has done here is to create a woman-child, a virginal, kind-hearted wide-eyed girl of eighteen who is naturally bent toward submission. And we get to ride along as she grows through experience and interaction, and flowers into full-blown womanhood over five years. It is a very personal story, as anyone who reads her work will attest. Dusseau knows whereof she speaks.

    The novel is set in wartime. There is some of the "keeping the home fires burning" about it, of course, but the fires in question are as much internal as not. The heroine must cope with the real costs of war; fear and aching loneliness, excitement, reunion and separation—tempered in these fires. Her experiences toughen her; make her more thoughtful, more sensitive, and more loving.

    Three childhood friends, born on the same day, share more than birthdays. They share each other. A fledgling dominant, a lesbian switch hitter and a blue-eyed submissive is what we get. There are experiments and tribulations for all, both sexual and psychic. The focus is on dominance and submission, learning the ways of it, and accepting them. Bare handed spankings abound, along with paddles, belts, whips and willow switches. There is sex, too—oodles of it—sex in cars, on boats, in ramshackle houses, at home, at work and in bars. Our heroine is pierced and tattooed and whipped and used and abused, and she cums and cums and cums and cums.

    But, there is substantially more to her than wet sheets and orgasms. This girl thinks about things, weeps, screams in outrage, fights back and, ultimately, finds herself, as do the friends she has known since bassinet and sandbox days. For them, her soldier-lover-lifelong-friends, she represents the warm heart of home, the dream to be held while they are away. When they return, wounded and damaged from the war, she is waiting—she is warmth and safety and solace and above all, love. Although still the wide-eyed innocent in many ways, she is much more experienced and certain of herself and, even more importantly, she is there for them, just as they are for her. That makes for quite a reunion, if you hadn't guessed.

    As I said, some folks are just plain lucky.

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