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Pandora's Hideaway

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Pandora's Hideaway by Lizbeth Dusseau

Rules are suspended and the game's a risky, dangerous one in Pandora's Hideaway - a South Seas tropical paradise owned and ruled by an anarchist and daunting sexual Dominant, Carlos Sanchez. After being caught having sex with her fiancé's brother, Jack, Mariel Fitzgerald's life takes a sudden twist when she begs the black sheep brother to take her with him on assignment to this faraway place with the strange sounding name. Immediately on arrival, she's shocked to find herself in a world where women accept their roles as slaves to men - there to be silenced, exhibited, used and determinedly forced to surrender. Mariel wages war against her unwavering host - and loses. Even as Jack pushes her into compliance, his own submerged and deviant sexual desires find a perfect playground in this out-of-the-way locale. Once Mariel relents to the darkness inside her, she gives herself wholly to Carlos, only to find that behind this paradise of sexual gratification is a sinister game designed to make her a perpetual, sexual captive and subject to the whims of her despot lover. Defiance only earns her a trip to Percy's prison - a sexual concentration camp for the resistant submissive. Rescue is impossible - or so it seems.


His hands were warm unbuttoning her red sweater, pushing back the knit and exposing her breasts locked inside the lacy, pink brassiere. His hot breath tickled her skin as he leaned over and laid kisses against the cool surface—cool but warming. The ticklishness between her thighs increased. Each article of clothing discarded brought them closer to nakedness and revelation. Her breasts were small handfuls, rounded and well-formed, highlighted by the dark circle of her aureoles and the tiny buds contained within them. A gentle squeeze between his fingers and they scrunched into delicious knots fit for tonguing, which Albert engaged in almost ruthlessly.
“Ouch! I can see you haven’t had sex in awhile,” she exclaimed laughing, while running her fingers through his once groomed hair and letting the biting sensations of his teeth and tongue flow through her.
“You’re as horny as I am,” he purred, as he continued down her torso, finally taking to his knees after removing her skirt, and planting his face against her Venus mound, while clutching her ass cheeks in his hands.
“More,” she said, as her head flung back, and she held on to him for support. Her legs were weakening as her erotic fires threw away the last week’s repression, and her desire billowed forth.
“Yes, yes, yes, Albert,” she seethed, finding herself moving backward and finally falling to the bed, where Albert crawled between her legs and continued lapping the succulent nectar.
“Mummmm, you are sweet,” he murmured. His cock had risen to its full girth and now pressed urgently inside his briefs, inside his corduroy pants.
“Fuck me, darling!” Pelvis writhing back and forth under his attacking face, she gasped.
He was easily led, moving swiftly to a position straddling her hips, fingers fumbling with his buttons and zipper. His speedy entrance was strategically thwarted when he had to awkwardly scramble from his position and remove his corduroy pants. Mariel waiting, lay back against the pillow, drinking in his familiar bodily fragrance: the cologne, the mint on his breath, traces of coffee and wood smoke from the fire below.
Returning to the dominant, imposing position over his lover’s languid, seeking body, Albert speared her with the tumescent wand, burrowing into the sensuous mellow depths of Muriel's tight home. They fucked as virgins, gracelessly figuring out the sex act on the fly. They managed well eight months ago and were repeating the same wild passionate moves of coupling, grunting, groaning, gasping… until they were quickly lost in climax, holding back their cries for propriety’s sake, but not the heated desire behind the act.

“Have you ever thought about tying me up?” Mariel posed the question, as their labored breathing returned to normal.
“No, can’t say that I have,” Albert returned. “Is that what you want? I suppose I could find some scarves… and this bed…,” he looked upward at the four posts noting the perfect arrangement.
“You don’t think it’s sinful?”
He grinned. I think fucking you has to be sinful; it feels so damned good. Why would tying you up for sex be any different?”
She mulled over an idea that had been creeping into her fantasies repeatedly for the last several weeks. “I saw magazines…,” her voice trailed off. She was afraid of what she’d say.
“What magazines?”
Albert laughed—if she guessed correctly—a little nervously. “Sid’s into all kinds of porn.”
“You think bondage is porn?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t really understand all the leather and chains.”
“Creepy, aren’t they?”
“We could always try scarves?”
“Humm, maybe, I was just curious if you’d do it.”
He laughed, rolling over on Muriel's cooling body, “I’d do anything you want. You know that?”
Yes, she did.

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