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Sexual Mischief - eBook

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Sexual Mischief by Lizbeth Dusseau

On a sultry day in June, Sausony walks away from a patronizing husband and her life of affluent leisure, seeking a cure for terminal boredom, hitchhiking with anyone who’ll have her. Blonde, beautiful and foolish, she has no clue what risks she takes. Sexual fantasies turn real, when she’s crudely fucked by a trucker in the back of a tavern, and later spanked before a cheering audience at a highway reststop. When her naïve friendliness is mistaken for sexual solicitation in a one-horse town with a backwoods sense of justice, her sixty-day sentence takes twisted turns she’s not ready for. Her stint behind bars begins with a vulgar jailer taking advantage of his pretty inmate, followed by a degrading physical exam. When she briefly manages to escape, she’s brought back to face tough lessons in obedience. Tied to the bars of her jail cell, she endures a ‘night from hell’.

When she finally freed, it’s clear that Sausony’s jail time wasn’t enough abuse to satisfy her driving need. Landing in LA, she’s quickly lured by the leather and dungeon crowd, exploring submissive desires she yearns to experience. Her sensuous innocence attracts plenty of attention and the sex she craves. But she’s dangerously out of control, until a concerned black Dom, an accomplished master, halts her downward spiral. If she wants to play in his world, she’ll first learn the true meaning of submission. Then, under his guidance and protection, he’ll take her to the depths of her shameless masochistic craving. While she may fight his methods, she knows he’s exactly what she needs. And when he orders her to do the unthinkable, she’d be wise to muster the courage to obey.


She spread her legs for him as she lay across the hotel bed looking like a delectable vamp from a movie—not some X-rated porn, but a mainstream, classy film about lovers on the run. Her pussy had been freshly shaved so it was dewy pink and slightly moist, smelling of the shaving cream she’d borrowed, a hint of sweat and the sweetness of her own female juices. Drinking his second bottle of Heineken, he lounged, still fully clothed, but half reclining so he had a direct view of her sex. He could see the wet opening, a deeper, richer color than the outer folds, still pink, but at the end of the spectrum before pink turned red. Beside her rested an open bag of grapes, the fat, sweet, yellow green variety, which had probably been harvested in the valley the day before. She put one in her mouth, one in her pussy, and one in his mouth, while bending forward, fingers making contact with his lips. She fell back on her elbow, “Eat,” she ordered. Then she made the rounds again, smiling, while the sugary water from the grapes dripped from her mouth. She giggled again. He marveled as her blue eyes danced with secrets.
Staring at her grape-laden pussy might have been enough to give him the biggest boner of his life. But trying not to be uncouth, he gingerly stroked his crotch. Reaching inside and grabbing his swelling organ would have been a whole lot more satisfying, but he acknowledged the thrill in waiting for whatever grande finale this femme fatale had planned.
“Eat,” she prompted him again, while nodding toward her crotch.
He obeyed. With a smile on his face and a twinkle in his hooded brown eyes, he dove for the grapes between her legs, popping from her pussy, coated with her juices and tasting sour then sweet as he sucked each into his mouth. He began to gobble her, licking the folds of skin, sucking and slurping, until he felt her fall back on the bed and moan. All her lushness swayed erotically as if the cold furnace in her body had suddenly been stoked with fire.
With his mouth clamped on her cunt, he looked up seeing her breasts, still barely covered by her dress, undulating. Her nipples floated before his eyes. He reached and grabbed one, giving it a subtle pinch, to which she murmured more deeply, sputtering, “Oh, yes,” in a tone of distressed pleasure. He could feel the tension in her body rise with every attempt to tease her, until she began to emote, “Gawd, yes, I’m cumming.” Her ass rolled across the bedspread from side to side taking his head with it.
As they moved in unison, he dug in deep, with tongue, with teeth, with lips pulling labia and clit. “Yes, do that harder!” She was bending toward him, grabbing for his hair, pushing his face against her snatch. Cumming. He’d never felt the muscles of a woman contact so during oral sex. But hers were unambiguous, flexing, releasing, squeezing empty air. His cock inside that slim sheath might have been suffocated from the force—not that this possibility would deter his eventual plans. “Humm, yes,” she hummed delicately as the orgasm began to recede, then she lay back exhausted against the mattress and he finished her off, until the last spasm relented.
She shuddered, expelling air.
The perfume of her body blanketed the air with the mysterious odor of sex and femininity. The aroma lingered on his face and in his breath; he never wanted to wash. He pushed his pants off his hips and they fell with a heavy thud against the floor. Then he climbed back on the bed and straddled her hips, rising above her as he pressed his erection at the doorway of her cunt where one errant, uneaten grape slid free. He was inside her with one firm thrust, fucking, enveloping her in the urgency of the act, cumming within a minute’s worth of hard humping. She hung on tight to his body, surrounding his chest with her arms, kissing his shoulder, clawing his back. To his heightened senses, she felt like a broken vessel that needed repair, an open wound that required mending, an empty shell with a substance waiting on the fringes to fill her.
This was not his usual fuck. Most loose women like it nastily hard. Maybe she did too. But thinking she might break under the weight of her desolation, he was careful fucking her and careful after he came, careful to fall beside her and hold her silently. Why he did this with such unthinking grace was a mystery to him. He’d never met a woman who required such caution. But the fact that she’d conveyed her need without words, in the simplicity of her smile, the impulsiveness of her risky behavior, and the openness of her body, made it imperative he heed the warning. He could love a woman like this one, but he wouldn’t. She was the breeze that blows over the face on a spring morning, the fire that flickers after dark and dies in the wind, the song that echoes in the ear until it’s lost. He would have her, enjoy her and let her go with the next shifting tide that ran her life.

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(c) Victoria www.victoriaphoto.com

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Product Reviews

  1. Posted by Lancelot Knight on 23rd Apr 2010

    Review of Sexual Mischief by Lizbeth Dusseau
    Reviewed by Lancelot Knight (c) 2004

    Sexual Mischief is the story of Sausony Danvers Kimball, a young woman who is a heady combination of alluring innocence and lust. Young and beautiful, rich and pampered, yet she finds her marriage dull and unfulfilling. She sets out on an odyssey, exploring not just the erotic, lusty countryside of America, but also the territory of her own psyche, her deepest needs and desires.

    The writing reminds me a bit of Anais Nin, in the sweep of the poetry that is often used to describe not only the sex scenes, but the astute the probing of Sausony’s states of mind.

    Sausony descends—no, “descends” isn’t the right word, for there is a connotation in that word of a lowering, and this book does more than suggest quite the contrary. Sausony, rather, flowers, blossoms like an orchid in a hothouse. She explores the world of sm/bd, gradually discovering within herself a powerful craving for submission. Her journey goes through a public fuck in a bar, proceeds to being spanked by a truck driver in front of several other truckers. Soon, Sausony finds herself in jail, the helpless prey of the lust of the town’s men that eventually erupts (quite literally) in a jailhouse gangbang that Sausony revels in. During her odyssey, Sausony discovers the world of leather, of bondage and submission and SM in North Hollywood. Eventually, she comes under the control of a wise, kind, but nonetheless demanding Master.

    An erotic and extraordinarily feminine version of Holden Caufield, Sausony seems to float on the surface of a world of eroticism, when she wants to plumb the depths of experience. That is where she will locate the needs of her real self. But her needs are far from straightforward. She wants a man who will control her, but paradoxically will allow her the freedom to express herself; as she puts it, “a man who will know how to shape the raw lust in me so I won’t self-destruct.”

    In her new-found liberation, Sausony discovers that she is treading “the dangerous waters of love.”

    Her new Master, however, insists that she confront her past, and when she does there are still more amazing discoveries to be made. Ultimately, Sausony discovers, as all submissives discover, that you can be “conquered, but strangely free” at the same time, which is a powerful message of a powerful book.

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