Silence in the Cellar


2 in stock


Silence In The Cellar by Lizbeth Dusseau

“In summer, Bella’s inn by the lake vibrates with the carnality of a whorehouse in any season.”
BDSM Romance. The young widow, Bella Faure, wants only to run her beloved Inn by the Lake and enjoy the men she entertains on the side. Her favorite lover, Daniel, listens to her carnal tales and takes notes for an erotic novel of her stories. But there’s a dark side to Bella’s life and a reckless past. Blackmailed by her husband’s brother, Claude, she plummets into his world, forced to satisfy his sexual revenge. Though she despises the man, she is driven by a body that enjoys the extremes of lust. Claude tortures her in cellars, attics and ancient boathouses, with whips and bondage and the exhilaration of pain. Her sex life overwhelms the imagination. A novel brimming with tender sensuality, and yet it blooms from the darkness of S&M, Dominance/submission, female bisexuality, graphic anal sex, spanking and multiple partners.

Additional information

Weight 0.99 lbs
Artist Credit

Cover Art stryjek –

Publish Date


Page Count


Word Count



He begins with the remembrance of a hot afternoon late in May. In Seattle, the rain had finally stopped and the sun was shining so intently, the natives were all indoors smothering from the heat.

The woman in question was the trampy kind of temptress who looked for sexy ballplayers—or other such nomadic beasts that wouldn’t be in town for long. A few weeks in the spring was all she needed of men to kick-start her sexual juices for the remainder of the year. The rest of the time she could be content with some old beau; but for those initial hours of springtime, she was a slut in heat, on the move, ready to grab the first stray cock that came her way. She was actually a little choosier than that; but once she got her chosen man to bed, they knocked boots until they were both worn out and too tired to move. It might take two days; it might take two weeks. But usually it was just several long-winded days, languishing about the silken sheets of her 19th century canopy bed. She opened the windows to the rushing spring, and let their voices join the chorus of the carnal—like something newborn answering to the call of a new season.

Paula Darnell had silken hair the color of ripening wheat, eyes so blue and pure Daniel swore she didn’t belong on this planet. There was a natural curl to her wavy locks falling like a cascade of water to her shoulders. And something about her walk was enchanting—a sexy tango, like dance music was playing inside her swaying hips. Her ass was nicely round, fitting well into the tight skirts she wore—little straight skirts to hug that ass, and show a little definition to her behind. She rarely wore panties so you could just barely detect the crack of her ass. Seems she enjoyed posing for men with her chest thrust out smartly and a little sass glimmering from the blue of her eyes. She liked men to take pictures of her in disgraceful poses. Blouses unbuttoned so the black lace encasing her tits would show. She’d raise the orbs in either hand and pretend to kiss the abundant pink flesh. Sometimes she posed in the nude, lounging on a private beach at water’s edge, the tiny waves from the lake teasing her cunt. Her pale blonde bush of hair would flatten into kinky curls once it was wet, and the lusty Paula would stretch out on the sand, undulating snakelike, grinding her hot cunt to the rough beach underneath her as thought she were getting off.

Daniel took pictures of her that way—ones so outrageous he had to send away to have them developed by a lab that handled porn. They were beautiful—though Paula was gone from Daniel’s life when he finally got them back and she never had a chance to see them. He supposed it didn’t matter to her if she did. Being photographed was an experiential act and enough in itself. And of course, it didn’t bother Daniel that he got to keep them. Some lonely nights on the road he took them from his suitcase and remembered the days he spent with Paula’s luscious body.

He’d been playing ball in the league just a week, when on that hot afternoon in May, he spotted her standing at the gate to the park as though she were waiting for him. Her face was as pretty as a model in a magazine, all perfectly painted in just the right shades for her creamy skin and the wheat/blonde color of her shiny hair. Her eyes sort of smoldered from the beginning, the blue at first a little startling—made him want to keep peering right into their centers. But her lids were lazy and he didn’t always see the clear blue irises. Her lashes batted coyly, though she was hardly a bashful woman. Pushing herself breasts first in his direction, she wiggled her hips to his side and without being invited, put a hand on his hip. His penis immediately took notice.

“Nice ass,” she remarked. Her whole manner was more than amazing.

Her bright smile warmed him, while he imagined what it would be like to press his mouth against her two lips, cleanly painted with rose-colored lipstick. It was hard to decide what he liked about her most; there was so much of her issuing from the abundant package of sensuous charm.

“Do you always come on this way to strangers?” he asked as if he were disapproving of her style. He wasn’t so sure he did.

“Oh, you’re hardly a stranger to me. I’ve had my eyes on you for days now.”


They walked together down the street toward his hotel, Miss Paula Darnell talking freely.

“You have great hips, you know?” she remarked.

“No, I didn’t.”

“From a female point of view. But then you don’t see them from afar the way I do.”

“You were at the game?”

“Right behind home plate—and a little to the left.”

He hadn’t seen her.

“I’ll buy you a drink,” she said.

“No. I’ll buy you one,” he decided.

“Perfect.” She smiled again, and took his arm as though they’d known each other for years.

The two talked their way through three drinks, until Daniel was feeling a bit woozy and his date showed signs of being drunk.

“You will walk me home, won’t you?” she asked.


“And sleep with me?” she wondered.

“Sleep with you?”

“That’s what this is all about. Or did you think I was just being friendly?”

Her hair was casually mussed by now. Miss Darnell seemed to like running her hand through her golden locks—almost as much as she liked bending forward over the table so he could see right down the thin sweater to her delicious cleavage. She was an ambrosial sort of woman who gave off scents as though she worked at the perfume counter in a department store. The thought of burying his face between her breasts became so appealing he figured that he’d end up doing anything this woman offered.

“Do you always sleep around so easily?” he asked.

That was when she told him about her spring fling with a sexy man, and how the remainder of her year seemed tame in comparison.

“Why just spring?” he asked.

“Well, why not? Doesn’t your blood boil a little faster in spring, your hormones come alive? It’s the season of mating. I think it must be the earth screaming at me sometimes.” Her eyes became more lively still. “I can’t help myself, even though I’m not a tramp the rest of the year. Spring is heaven.”

Ah! She was oozing the season from every voluptuous pore of her body.

“Yeah, I guess it’s that way,” he finally said. “I’ll go to bed with you, as long as you’re planning to do it slowly. I like to take my time, get to know a woman’s body before I get in to making love.”

“Ooo, my, that is nice,” her words dripped with desire. She parted her mouth, while gazing into his limpid eyes with hers reeking of carnal schemes. He could see the inner workings of her mind toying with her fantasies. It wouldn’t take long before they were naked; and on a night like this—losing his ballgame in the ninth inning on a two run homer that flew like bolt of lightning over his head into the center field bleachers—he could use the good graces of a licentious female to take away his despair. “I live just around the corner,” she added.

They walked around the corner, down another two blocks and strolled up the steps of an old apartment house with a big front porch. The aging brick looked sagging, the woodwork well worn, but the light from Paula’s first floor window was a golden yellow through the pulled down shade, offering the promise of a mellow summer evening. The heat outside was beginning to wane. Inside, there were Japanese paper lanterns, wind chimes, and oriental carpets hanging on the walls. And in the bedroom where she laughingly dragged her prize by the hand, there was a black lacquered canopy bed with a handmade crocheted bedspread. The dim light from a corner lamp cast moving shadows on the walls as a breeze came through either side of the fluttering window shade. From outside the air was fresh, mixing with the scent of the incense she burned before she left.

She lit two candles and a stick of musk, then began to strip her clothes as the music from a scratchy record, lapping around an old turntable, played behind her. Saxophone and a throaty blues singer.

He sat on the bed; there was no chair.

“Do you like to watch?” she asked as she unbuttoned her sweater.

“Do you ever dance?” he replied as the allure of her reminded him of clubs he’d been to on the road, where exotic dancers leaned into his face with breasts he could only enjoy by the sight of them. It was a cruel fate, watching these vixens share the best part of the female anatomy, while he was forced to keep his hands in his lap or around his glass; his cock springing to life reminding him of what he couldn‘t have.

“Dance? You mean to strip?” she asked as she moved lazily toward him, her sweater about to drop from her shoulders. A little shimmy and it was sliding down her back. “A few times.”

She gazed down at her tits while she stood between his parted thighs. With her breasts at his face, he could see through the lace of her bra the outline of two pinkish aureoles beneath. “Truth is, I didn’t like it much. I’d rather have my hands on a man’s flesh and his on mine than just show it off.”

Another shimmy and Daniel eyes fixed on her jiggling cleavage. Raising one lanky leg, she rested it on his thigh. The hem of her skirt inched up high, exposing black garters attached to her lace-edged stockings. A flick of his fingers and he detached them with a simple snap—the experience like opening a box of scented treasure leading straight to the heart of a woman’s private mysteries. His roving hand found a naked snatch so wet and warm it would be heaven to bathe in all night long. He was certain his cock would readily agree. Would it be too crass when he finally took off his pants for his erection to be as stiff as the pink dildo lying on her bedside table? All he could imagine was a succulent Paula so pleased, she’d take it between those rosy lips and draw it into the heaven at her mouth before he planted it inside her pussy.

“Shall I keep on my lace or fuck you naked?” she inquired.

“Oh, I want your skin.”

A devious smirk lit her face, and her eyes glowed almost black, having darkened measurably in the darkened room. Falling free, her tits seemed to grow in size before his eyes. Pressing them to his face, the passion of her passed through him in an hypnotic wave—like being drugged—like being reminded of the best sex of his life between Bella’s legs. He wanted them both, but would be content with having just this slutty substitute to make him happy. For as long as this sweet-smelling tart was willing to have him lighting up his organ in her brothel bed, he’d cozy up to her luscious embrace, and taste with cock and mouth the portal between her thighs.

“Why, Daniel,” she finally said, pulling her breasts from his face. “You have me at a disadvantage, seeing my treasure while I haven’t had a glimpse of yours.” She pouted. He had his hands under her skirt, both with a generous portion of her ass squeezed between groping fingers. Each time he massaged her cheeks, he could feel his erection pulse as though the two things were physically connected. He didn’t want to stop, but they could hardly remain like this all night.

“Maybe you want to take care of that,” he whispered, as he pushed her further away. She sunk to her knees between his thighs to undo his belt, and lower the zipper of his jeans. He watched how her eyes opened wide in anticipation, and that uncertain moment of dread passed through him as he wondered if what she exposed would meet her expectations.

“Oh, my, this is quite a cock you have here,” she seemed to approve of his hungering meat, even the angry purple head that was ready to get on with the main course of the night. He needed her mouth, or her pussy or ass. Something tight and warm to help him shed the dour reflections of his day, a place to lose it all like nothing in the world mattered.

Then, of course, he wouldn’t mind playing servant to this Paula’s fantasies—if it made her hot and a little bolder—as if she wasn’t already bold enough. He never understood why men wanted their women respectable; one step short of whore was just fine for him. Maybe Bella taught him that, or just life and loneliness. But what seemed to matter most to him at times like this was getting naked with a woman, and a little more honest than he’d usually be. He could heal a hell of a lot of troubles in just one hour of making love.

Paula took him in her mouth as if it were an obligation. Of course, any beautiful woman paying attention to his cock was pretty amazing. But what he enjoyed most about her delicate blowjob was staring into her eyes as she looked up at him. The temptress was there, an Old World siren, and a slavish whore. Then too, there was a vulnerable innocence in her expression, as though she wondered if she was good enough to please him.

“I suppose you’d like to put this sweet rod in my pussy?” she purred an invitation.

“I think that would be just fine,” he replied, lying back against the bed. She stripped him of his shirt, running her fingers through the hair at his chest. Then tugging at his jeans till they dropped to the floor, she finally climbed back to this dick with her pussy open for the impaling attack.

“Ooo, my, how full your are,” were her first words of satisfaction. There were many more. She was a vocal harlot, giving him advice as the fuck proceeded.

“Yes, yes more, on my clit, yes, rub that clit.” Her pussy shimmied down to the base of his shaft, hips moving catlike. Her eyes—when open enough for him to see—smoldered fiendishly. “You are perfect, Daniel Bogart.”

He was hardly doing anything at all, because Paula was the kind of woman content to do all the work, and in the process please his cock with all her fancy gyrations. “More of that, yesssss, pound me harder.”

They rolled over with Paula on her back, her legs rising high, so Daniel finally put them to his shoulders and lunged into her groin. His cock was deep in the pool of her pussy, hitting the end while she was asking for it harder. “Oh, yes, do me more, yesssss….”

A long stream of panting exclamations followed as his plunge into this salacious lady ended in a ripping finish. She ground into him and he into her as though they were one person, or perhaps missing pieces of the other reuniting. It was that way for him with other unbridled women like Paula Darnell. The instant of release and the few before were like seeing God in perfect Technicolor clarity—only to have that brief moment of truth unfocus as the orgasmic spasms dwindled away.

The exertion made him breathless, so that when a lucid Paula began to speak, he could hardly answer her.

“You were wonderful,” she declared the obvious in an enthusiastic measure. She kissed his cheeks and his eyes and finally his mouth.

“You don’t mind putting it in my ass, do you?” she asked next.

“Mind? Why would I mind that?” he managed to speak.

She snickered happily, as though she was already thinking of their next fuck while Daniel was still trying to grasp the meaning of this one. And yet, it was a comforting thought to know that he was in her future plans.

“My pussy likes dildos, vibrating ones, while I’m getting my ass end bathed with cream. Can you imagine that?” Her saucy blonde head nestled into the crook of his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. “And you can claw the skin and pinch my nipples,” she turned again and stared directly at him, “and give my clit some nasty pain. I like it rough. Maybe later, you can tie me helpless and tease me with feathers.”

“I’ll do anything you want, Miss Darnell. Anything that makes you happy.” He was still too exhausted to think of sex again, and his dick was such a pale reflection of its previous erect state, he was almost embarrassed.

“Ooo, I do like inventive men. Maybe you could show me something new?”

“If you haven’t already seen it all.”

“How could anyone know everything there is to know about sex? I think that’s one of the wonderful things about fucking, it’s infinite in scope and mystery. It’s too bad people don’t enjoy it more—but then,” she sighed, “that just leaves more for me.”

Daniel didn’t understand her logic—suggesting that God passed around only so much sexual adventure, and if someone declined His offer, He passed it on to a more willing recipient.

“So, you’ll do my ass next?”

“I’ll do anything you ask.”

“I bet you’ve had some kinky lovers,” she speculated.

“That I have.” He was thinking of just one.

“Tell me about them?”

“I guess there’s just been one other that stands out,” he said.

“So, I stand out?” she asked.

“That you do,” he assured her. She was like a kid taking the compliment, blue eyes dancing her body jiggling happily.


There are no reviews yet.

Be the first to review “Silence in the Cellar”

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may also like…