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Submissively Addicted To You

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Submissively Addicted To You by Lizbeth Dusseau

On one remarkable spring day, the fresh-faced, 20 year old virgin Polly Montgomery has her whole life turned on end, when an out-of-the-closet lesbian, Galen Davis, lures her to her room, and initiates the bewildered Polly into lesbian sex. That afternoon, while Polly is still reeling from the unexpected tryst, Dale Joyce, a pre-law big-man-on-campus invites her to his off campus house to work on a class project. Suddenly, the astute and very dominant Dale has taken her virginity in a profound scene of sexual submission.

For the next three months, Polly becomes the acquiescent plaything to both Galen and Dale. While Galen’s style is easy and seductive, Dale becomes a demanding and sometimes brutal master who takes this sexual novice into the dark realms of her sexual desires, into pain, humiliation and bondage. Once Galen and Dale graduate, however, Polly is on her own, and for the next ten years she submerges herself in a career producing Art videos for a local museum.

Polly effectively ignores sex, until she finds herself enthralled by a Femme Dyke, Carly, who is soon demanding her submission. Then, as if history is repeating itself…while doing a pre-production interview with artist Howard Garth, Polly is stranded for two days at his hilltop home, when a mudslide takes out the road. Like Dale before him, Howard Garth keys in on Polly’s profoundly submissive nature, and her brief but explosive affair reacquaints her with a raw sexual need she’s tried to run from. Weeks later, at a museum opening, Polly finds herself enchanted by a famous, but reclusive black artist, Theo Gray. When Theo suddenly demands her presence at his Caribbean estate for an interview, she’s more than ready to go. However, Gray’s bodyguards unexpectedly whisk her away in a private jet, and Polly learns that Theo has more in mind for her than a simple interview. The luscious beauty is to be his next conquest, his next submissive.

Addicted to submission, Polly is taken deep into a world of sexual depravity that could become as dangerous to her future as it is erotically fulfilling in the moment. Theo Gray lives by his own rules, and will not stop before depriving the lovely Polly of her life, her friends, her job and her free will. Can Polly wrench herself from this addiction and end the affair with Theo before it’s too late?


“I’ll never tell a soul about this, pretty Polly. It’s just you and me, no one’s going to know.”
She pushed me back into an alcove onto a daybed strewn with pillows. Mesmerized by a seductive charm I’d have never guessed she had, I let her kiss me on the lips, again and then again. Her small and delicate kisses were unlike the kisses of a man—at least the few I’d known.
She moved her hand with graceful force between my legs, prying them apart, her fingers under my skirt where, with just the slightest touch against my panties, the vibration set off a sexual spasm deep inside my belly.
“Oh, my God!” escaped my lips, as the breathless wonder of the moment gripped me like nothing else ever had.
She came down harder on my lips, while her hand plunged deeper, more decidedly, grabbing at my pubic mound with her fingers fishing their way beyond the elastic of my panties and between my labia.
The stale odor of my sex wafted free; my juices were flowing in a small, steamy stream as she fingered my sex. Shrill sensations of physical joy jolted my clitoris, then moved swiftly through my lower regions with the same surging force that I brought out on my own. Perhaps the erotic remnants of the night before lingered on to fuel the surprising climax that suddenly swept my body. Galen and her hand shook my cunt hard, while I lay gasping, rocking back and forth in her arms, cradled by the heavenly warmth of her tender embrace.
“You’re so easy, Polly Montgomery,” she smiled above me with a look of satisfaction. “I knew you would be.”
I stared up at her in shock.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. All I want is to love you.”
“Shuuuussssh.” Her finger went to my lips. It’s too soon. Too soon. You don’t need to talk about it. There’s nothing to understand, nothing to say.”
I was glad she said that, since it probably kept me from looking foolish as I stumbled through a string of excuses, exclamations and denials.
She moved up on the bed with me so we were lying side by side, still clothed, still close and touching, sharing an intimacy I never knew I desired. Should I reciprocate? was my first cogent thought.
My eyes watered with tears. “I don’t think I can,” I managed, hoping she’d know what I was talking about, and she did.
She stroked my hair as she had before, though more like a loving mother this time.
“I’m okay with what I have here,” she said in all earnest. I hoped to God that I wouldn’t have to repeat this scene. Then she continued talking. “I didn’t mean to move on you so quickly, but you looked so pretty today. Here I’d been planning this for weeks.”
“You planned this?”
“Since the day you sat next to me in discussion group. I knew I could have you as long as someone else didn’t get to you first.”
“Why did you think that?”
“I know certain kinds of women, women like Polly Montgomery. I know when they’re ripe, and, girl, you were you ripe for plucking today.” She finally sat up, giving me the space I needed to breathe—well, almost breathe. “By the way, you’re not a lesbian, so don’t get confused on that score.”
I shook my head, unable to comprehend anything that had happened or what was said in the last hour.
“Bisexual is a better word for you, Polly. But, don’t worry, I promise I won’t flaunt what we’re doing.”
“No, please don’t!” I managed my first raw emotion, then sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed.
“No. It’s too soon to shock people. I mean the world needs to be shocked. But hey, I’m not going to get political today, least of all with you.” She stroked my hair again, “But you…don’t you have that class you were talking about?”
“Yes, yes I do.” I jumped from the bed and stood up to straighten my skirt. My panties felt squishy between my legs and the sexual scent rising up to assault my nose would haunt me all day. I found that my books had been thrown in a heap on the floor. I retrieved them quickly, standing up hugging them close to my chest protectively as I moved to the door.
Galen stopped my hasty retreat, calling to me, “We’ll do it again sometime.”
I looked back, shaking my head bewildered. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“You say that now, but you think about it, Golden Girl.” This time the name came out affectionately.
“I really have to go.”

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Product Reviews

  1. Posted by Tobias Tanner on 23rd Apr 2010

    Submissively Addicted To You by Lizbeth Dusseau
    Reviewed by Tobias Tanner (c) 2006

    The title is somewhat misleading, as Lizbeth Duseau is writing here about a girl, and then a woman who is, in point of fact, Addicted to Submission. The book follows Polly Montgomery, the narrator, through a series of personal trials—all self-inflicted. There are many points when a simple, "No thank you," would have removed her from the uncertainty, the pain and the humiliation, but Polly never says no. Okay, she says it, but what she means is "Yes!" And yes, and yes, and more yes.

    Book I reveals her sexual initiation in college, first with a lesbian, and then with a cruel boy. The experience sets Polly on the trail that will lead, inevitably perhaps, to her inner self. And to her surprise, others are on that trail as well—not because they have to be, but because they want to be. And they want to be there because Polly is there. She doesn't know why, but her natural submissiveness draws lovers to her with the certainty of butterflies to a spring flower. She blossoms and opens herself (or allows herself to be opened, which is more often the case). And when her butterflies grow talons and begin to claw hurtfully at her, she sees a new beauty in them.

    Polly learns about her own submissiveness, and the ways to pleasure. Nothing is too far afield. Whatever her lovers want, she gives. Queer sex, straight sex, extreme sex—she accepts it all. She wants love, and experiences pain to get it. She is horrified by her own desires, and compelled by them. "I was theirs," Polly says. "A love slut owned by the lesbian and the pervert. For a delirious three months that Spring, they awakened, used and owned my submissive soul." That statement sets the tone for an awakening spring in the bloom of her youth, and for the rest of her life.

    Book II carries the reader ten years forward, and into a maelstrom of cruelty and madness. Polly is a functional, submissive bisexual by then, and is overwhelmed by a man who can and will do anything to her, who makes her his personal slave. She can't resist him, and ignores her clamoring fears to follow him. He tortures her physically and emotionally, and ultimately, takes her beyond a set of limits that she didn't even know were there. She learns a critical lesson. Submission shouldn't be about loneliness or spite. It should be about love and sharing. There is more to her than what others want, and the master who keeps her must know that, too. In order to have her, he must have her all, not just the little bits of her that fulfill his own fantasies.

    Afraid, deeply depressed and uncertain about the path she has taken, Polly goes out on her own. She has no choice, and sees no end. But with the help of an unexpected friend, she takes her wounded soul back to a man she trusts, a man who loves her, who she knows will dominate her cruelly, but with respect—who will honor who she is, and never take her for granted. And in his bed, she finds warmth and safety at last.

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