Lizbeth's Lesbian Collection

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Jane looked at them with her forceful eyes. From the sensuality of her masculine allure, to the way she seemed to remain in command was something that made Leslie shiver and Robin flinch. For Leslie, it was the beginning of sexual awakening and arousal, for Robin, she knew what Jane could do; she’d seen this kind of commanding Domme many times before.

  “Yes, we did have quite a relationship. We’d had one for several years. I would often dominate her, pretty much anywhere I wanted, here, the club, other clubs, in public—she loved semi-public venues to proclaim herself. Nothing made her hornier than showing off in front of people, baring her tits, flaunting her ass. She was a shameless, slut.” Jane sighed wistfully.

  “If she was reputed to be dominant, why do you suppose she wanted to be submissive to her?” Leslie asked.

  Jane eyed the detective and chuckled, obviously holding back some personal remark. “Beats me, why she switched the way she did. She saw me at a club somewhere, and came to me wanting to be taken and abused. I did it. Gladly. She told me, I was her balance, I kept her from going crazy. I gave her limits. It’s not an easy relationship to describe. But then you had to know the woman to understand her.”

  “I understood her very well,” Robin said. “I lived with her here for two years.”

  Jane was surprised and impressed. “Then this case has personal implications for you.”

  “Some, though it was quite a while ago. I do want to find her killer.”

  Jane nodded. “Well then, you would understand what she needed in me.”

  “I think so,” Robin replied, “And did she pay you for dominating her?”

  “No. I gave it willingly. I didn’t want her money. In fact I don’t take money for sexual favors. I play my games because it pleases me, nothing else.”

  “Why did Felicia owe you so much money?” Leslie asked.

  “Bad investments.”

  “Bad investments?” Robin repeated.

  “I’m a stock broker when I’m not doing other things. I’ve dabbled very successfully for years. Felicia kept coming to me with really boondoggle ideas, and I’d make some investments for her, and she kept losing. She ran up a tab for awhile. I advised her. She didn’t listen. I finally quit making the investments. But by that time, she had to sign over half the house to me, the rest she tried to pay back a little at a time out of her trust. That’s dwindled down pretty low. I’ll get back what she owed me, but I don’t need it. I’d rather have her alive.”

  The woman was very believable; if she was lying, she was very good at it.

  “Did your business dealings start before or after the sex began?” Leslie asked.

  “It was pretty much simultaneous. We had great sex, I’ve never known a better submissive. Although it wasn’t that she submitted all that well, in fact she struggled like hell, but she liked the confrontation, and I’d like the way she’d go really deep into everything. I love women that act like hellions.”

  “Were you in love with her?” Robin asked.

  “That’s a strange question,” Jane said thinly.

  “Someone at Sapphos suggested you were,” Leslie explained.

  The woman looked genuinely surprised, as if it wasn’t a proper question to ask a Domme. “Yes I was in love with her,” she finally admitted. The silence that followed was awkward until Jane lit a cigarette. “I mourn in my own way,” she continued. “And I suppose I loved her in my own way. I’ve never really been as taken by any submissive, any woman, as I was by Felicia Roman.”

  “But being dominant, you can do scenes even when you’re in mourning?” Leslie said with a sarcastic ring.

  “It’s a release,” Jane admitted.

  “Pretty damned good release with Zelda the other night,” Leslie remarked.

  Jane looked at Leslie curiously.

  “We were on our way to talk with you and saw your lights. It wasn’t hard to see your scene. We thought since you left the lights on and the drapes open, that you didn’t care who saw. So, we stayed to watch – you could call it part of the investigation.”

  “I suppose the drapes being open were part of the point. Exposure is a tremendous turn on,” Jane said, “although up on this hill there aren’t many that would have the opportunity to watch.” Jane’s eyes glimmered. “I hope you enjoyed yourselves.” She looked directly at Leslie, stared right at her chest and then moved her glance to her crotch, as if waiting to see her squirm. “You two ever get it on?” she asked.

  “We’re asking the questions,” Robin said.

  Jane shrugged. “Then be my guest, but remember, next time I’ll be doing the talking,” Jane said. She said that knowing that there would be a next time, speaking as if there was a relationship developing between the three that only she was yet privy to. At the moment however, she only had eyes for Leslie. As she talked, her gaze did not waver from the brunette detective, from her breasts, her crotch, and her sumptuous lips.

  “Are you and Zelda having a regular relationship now? Is that why she’s still staying here?” Robin asked.

  “I had her the other night, but never again. Never. If she’s involved with anyone it’s Martha.”

  “Martha?” Robin asked. She recalled the interruption the day before.

  “I saw them together a couple of days ago, they’d had quite a session on the back porch. A little tame for me, but they were obviously into it.”

  “Why would you never have Zelda again?” Leslie asked.

  “She didn’t have any limits. I don’t like that.”

  “Was that any different than Felicia?” Robin asked.

  “Much. I always knew how far to go with her, she never gave me any doubt. She may not have seemed like the kind of woman you could trust. But she had her sexual boundaries and I trusted her to know them. There’s a safety for me in that. I’m not out to harm anyone. Most of it’s psychological, the physical can be rather mild, and a scene still very powerful.”

  “And Zelda isn’t aware of her limits?”

  “No, not physically. She didn’t want me to stop. That woman will keep going on until, someday, someone’s going to kill her.”

  “You don’t mean that?” Leslie said.

  “I do. And it’s not going to be me.”

  “You’re sure… I mean, what would make you believe she’d go that far?”

  “I can’t really tell you, it was just a feeling that I had. A real spooky eerie feeling. I didn’t like the vibes I was getting. The scene was all right, of course you know that, don’t you?” She grinned slyly, then her serious expression returned. “She went really crazy because I wanted to stop. I wouldn’t take her as far as she wanted to go. And then she kept pleading with me, “Do it for Eve, please, do it for Eve.” She was nuts. I asked her who the hell Eve was, and she gave me this really stupid look, like she was crazy, crazier than Felicia ever was. I had to back off, I couldn’t get into some scene that I didn’t understand. The woman’s really weird.” Jane looked as troubled as the two were ever likely to her.

  “You say she wanted you to call her Eve?” Robin asked, her eyes widening.

  “Yeah, Eve.”

  “What else did she say about that?” Robin asked.

  “She rambled on about maybe we should trade places, that I should let Eve tie me up, that Eve would give me a really good time.”

  “Did she tell you who Eve was?”

  “I guess it’s her. Maybe she’s a split personality.” Jane chuckled darkly.

  “My god, maybe she is Eve! Maybe she’s our killer,” Robin said, her heart beginning to thump excitedly.

  “Who the hell is Eve?” Leslie turned to her partner.

  “The aide at the hospital, the woman I talked to on the grounds,” Robin explained, “told me about a woman, Eve Delisle. She’d been a patient at Brightwood who’d killed her lovers, tied them up and stabbed them. She escaped. According to the aide Eve died, a suicide, but I’m beginning to wonder…”

  Leslie stared at her shocked. “You’re not kidd
ing about this, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Robin was on her feet. “And we know that Zelda and Martha are having sex. We saw them yesterday in a compromising state of disarray. C’mon Leslie,” Robin said anxiously, “I’m not waiting any longer for my answers.”

  ***

  Martha and Zelda raced upstairs after Remy left and went immediately to Zelda’s room.

  “Oh, how about we do it in Felicia’s room, I’ve really wanted to try that great big bed of hers,” Zelda’s eyes brightened with excitement.

  “No! For heaven’s sakes no,” Martha flinched at the thought. “She died there, it really should be burned, the whole room dismantled. This will do just fine,” she remarked looking at the lovely brass bed in Zelda’s room. “I’ve always loved this room, it’s so bright, kind of like you.”

  She looked at the woman’s eyes, seeing how dark they had become. The light in them wasn’t the pretty green she’d seen downstairs in the kitchen earlier that morning.

  “Well, dear Martha, you just lie back on my brass bed and rest yourself. You’re in for one terrific treat.” Zelda went to a closet and brought out some rope.

  “You’re going to tie me up, too?” Martha asked. She was trembling inside, thinking that she’d never been submissive this way. She’d dreamt about it many times, even suggested it to Remy once, thinking that the two should really broaden their sexual horizons. But Remy shirked away so badly at the idea that Martha knew never to bring up the subject again. There had never been anyone else to try these things with, maybe if Felicia had remained alive there would have been the opportunity. Felicia certainly had her dominant reputation, but she only seemed to want Martha’s control, nothing more.

  “I’m going to love you like you’ve never been loved,” Zelda assured her. Laying the ropes down, she climbed on the bed with Martha and caressed her body carefully, the two embroiled in a sensuous moment that could have easily brought them both to a climax.

  “Oh, we’re not going to go too fast today,” Zelda suddenly stopped. “Let’s see how we can stretch this out.” She picked up one rope and took Martha’s right wrist, tying it ever so carefully with a neat knot.

  “You’ve done this before?” Martha asked.

  “A few times. I know you have to tie the knots right, or your wrists will have marks afterward, and I wouldn’t want that.” Taking the right ankle, she repeated the process, first binding the ankle with the length of rope and then securing it to the brass foot board. She repeated the process until all four limbs were securely fastened.

  “Feel them, are they too tight?”

  “No, they’re perfect,” Martha said, moving against the binding ropes. Her body trembled with anticipation; the wait as delicious as the act itself. Seeing Zelda’s vibrant eyes glimmering so beautifully, with all that dark purposeful light in them, she was transported into a world she’d longed for.

  “You like being helpless, don’t you?” Zelda purred so sweetly.

  “Oh, it’s wonderful,” she replied, as she sank into the feeling of being out of control. How long had it been since she’d been treated to this kind of selflessness. Her body was clamoring for more.

  “Just close your eyes and relax,” the green-eyed nymph purred. “You’re totally in my power, just let go and let me have you.” Zelda had picked up a soft deerskin whip, stoking Martha’s aroused body with the instrument, gliding the soft talons over her tender skin. Martha twitched excitedly, a smile breaking out on her face. She opened her eyes to see Zelda grinning at her with a nasty stare. “Just keep your eyes closed and let me caress you,” she purred at the submitting woman.

  Martha closed her eyes again, feeling as if she might float away. “Whip me more,” she groaned. “All over please.” The whip continued its journey over Martha’s breasts, down her belly, which moved erotically to each stroke, and then her thighs, and between her legs where her pink cunt lay exposed.

  The groans from the surrendering woman were beautiful music to Zelda’s ears. She listened for the mounting arousal, then whipped her hard, the talons cutting ever so wickedly in some places, more softly in others. Martha’s groans became more heated. But the submissive woman didn’t say stop. She didn’t protest. She was into the scene and wanting more, exactly what Zelda wanted too.

  Zelda knew when to end it. There seemed to be that happy oneness between the two, as Martha drifted away lost in the sensations, and Zelda’s eyes darkened to a hard edge, a necessarily determined edge taking control. She’d know when to end it, and she knew Martha would take much more before she did. And when the time came, she’d give her that last exquisite finale, that final moment of passionate release.

  “You really think we have to rush so fast?” Leslie said, as she struggled to keep up with Robin, who was quickly making her way to the house.

  Jane had stood at the cottage door with an uncharacteristically confused look on her face, then decided to follow the two detectives into the house. She was used to gauging female emotions and she could see that Robin was terrified. From what she knew of the detective, Robin had strong gut instincts.

  “I thought you said this Eve was dead?” Leslie asked.

  “How do we know that for sure?” Robin said. “Remy’s gone. We interrupted Zelda and Martha yesterday… if we’re going to find out if Zelda is Eve, we’re going to now. We could be stopping a murder!”

  A horrid shiver raced down Leslie’s back, as Robin ran into the house, and she followed close behind.

  “Upstairs.” Robin lead the way. How she knew where to go Leslie wasn’t sure, but she would follow. God, she hoped that this was a silly goose chase.

  They turned at the top of the stairs moving away from the front of the house, away from Felicia’s room to the rooms at the back. They passed Martha and Remy’s room, the door standing open. It was empty. At the end of the hall the door was closed.

  Robin stopped to listen.

  “I hear her voice,” the detective said, pressing her ear against the door. “Zelda’s.”

  “They could be in the middle of an innocent scene,” Leslie said.

  “Or Zelda could be killing her,” Robin said. She was certain of herself. The knob turned and the door opened easily. The two detectives stood at the doorway looking in on Martha and Zelda. Yes, the two were in the middle of sex, a scene, S&M in bold relief; but not typical S&M – whipping, bondage, the usual fetish play. This was something more.

  Martha was tied to the bed, eyes closed, writhing in lewd abandon, her body glistening, hot with sweat and sexual fever. She moaned lustily and loud. Robin gazed at the bondage, seeing the knots tied to the bed’s brass footboard. As she expected, they were the exact same type of knots that had found Felicia when she was murdered. But, though Robin noticed the knots immediately, it was not the knots that concerned her.

  Zelda stood at the far side of the bed, her eyes glazed over, her attention unwavering, not even the sounds of the door opening shook her from the spellbound stare fixed on Martha’s undulating form. The smirk on her face was other worldly.

  Something was very wrong, Robin was sure, and then she saw it. The glint of a knife, a long slim knife grasped in the redhead’s chubby hand, poised and ready to strike the unsuspecting woman on the bed.

  “Zelda no!” Robin shouted. She leaped inside the room, racing for Zelda’s outstretched, knife wielding hand. As she reached the side of the bed, Zelda’s eyes suddenly turned, fixed intently on her. With her free hand raised, Zelda delivered one powerful punch that landed across Robin’s face, throwing the detective off balance and knocking her against the far wall. Robin was in the corner on the wings of strength she never imagined from the diminutive woman. Falling hard against the wall, Robin banged her head, and slumped to the floor, momentarily too dazed to get up. All she could think was, how can I get up, I’ve got to get up, but her body wouldn’t move.

  Focused on just one thing at a time, Zelda’s concentration immediately returned to Martha. Th
e bound woman, who had been moaning so lustily, waiting for another blow of the lovely whip, waiting to go deeper still into her erotic ecstasy, opened her eyes at the sound of the commotion. She looked up at Zelda and her gaze abruptly froze, fixed in horror on the glint of the knife poised high above her body.

  Leslie, having followed Robin to the far side of the room, grabbed for Zelda’s arm and turned the woman around on a dime. Zelda yelled something unintelligible, interrupted in her task, and the knife dropped from the redhead’s hand clattering against the floor. Zelda lunged for the weapon, landing hard against the wood floor.

  “No, you don’t!” Leslie screamed and she covered Zelda’s falling body with her own.

  Zelda’s outstretched hand reached for the knife. Finding it, she held the handle in her fist, clutching it with every bit of strength she had. With Leslie’s body weight on her, she could hardly breathe and her gasps for air became desperate, as Leslie struggled to keep her down and take the knife from her at the same time.

  Zelda was mad, insanely mad. The knife flailing about her. She had to find the target, she had to find the flesh, she had to find that soft tender giving flesh in which to sink the blade. Such a pretty polished blade, so bright and glaring, harsh, very harsh. If only she could complete her task, take the woman away with her. Her mind was sinking, going somewhere far, far away. It was difficult to breathe, every breath heavier still, heavier still. She could hardly breathe at all, but she couldn’t stop. No, never, she couldn’t stop until it was finished. She had to finish her task, she had to take the woman away with her… yes, take the woman away with her, this would be the last time, the very last time …

  Leslie almost had the knife in her hand. She reached, but she couldn’t grasp it. The angle was all wrong; she struggled to get closer, but she couldn’t allow Zelda to escape. She held down one flailing arm, but not the one she wanted. She had to reach farther, just an inch farther.

  Suddenly, Jane appeared at Leslie’s side, diving for Zelda’s flailing wrist, clutching it so the pinned woman couldn’t move it, or the knife. “Drop it, Zelda,” she said quietly. The crazy woman wouldn’t let go. She hadn’t even heard the quiet command. Then, all of sudden, the knife was gone, wrenched abruptly by Jane’s sure fingers.