EROTICA BOX SET - A Night To Remember (BDSM, Bondage, Domination) Read online

  Table of Contents

  A Note From The Author

  Black Leather Night At The Dungeon

  The Latex Mistress

  Handcuffed To The Bed

  Hello everyone! Thank you for purchasing my book. My name is Sylvia Parker, and I am an erotica author new to digital publishing. My goal is to write stories that you, the reader, enjoy reading. I am a professional author, which is basically a fancy way of saying that I do this for a living.

  That's not to say that writing these stories doesn't require a lot of work, because it certainly does! I strive to bring you the best in erotic fiction, honing my craft along the way. I work very hard to write these stories, holding myself to the highest standard possible in order to create a world that my readers can truly immerse themselves in.

  If you enjoyed my work, I implore you to please leave a review with the retailer from whom you purchased this book. As you know, consumers tend to rely on reviews before making purchases. As a new author, my only request is that you leave a review telling your fellow customers what you thought of this book.

  Like any other artist, writers bare their souls to the world with their craft. So please, be kind!

  That being said, I hope you enjoy this work that I have created specially for you.

  Thanks!

  -Sylvia Parker

  Black Leather Night At The Dungeon

  (BDSM, Bondage, Submission)

  By Sylvia Parker

  All Rights Reserved, 2014

  “God damn it!” Leslie shouted, throwing her pen in anger.

  The young girl sobbed, her straight blonde hair dropping down in front of her face. With a sad sniffle, she curled her hair back behind her ear as she shut her eyes tight. Through sheer willpower alone, she managed to fight back the tears.

  She leaned over her spiral notebook, placing her head in her hands. The skin of her face peeled back awkwardly as she leaned her elbows on the table. Her eyes, tired from the hours of study, peered at the massive text book on her desk.

  “I hate my life,” she said aloud, her shoulders slumping forward.

  Nobody heard her in the empty room, save for her cat, Beans. He jumped when she threw the pen, but now came over to console her. He purred loudly as he rubbed his neck and back against her leg, distracting her from her own outburst.

  “Oh Beansy, you're the only one who loves me,” she said, scratching the grey striped cat behind the ears.

  Her cell phone began to vibrate against the desk. Leslie checked the caller ID: It was Jessica, one of her friends from law school.

  “Hey Jess,” she said, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder.

  “Hey girl,” said Jessica, her voice as lively as ever. “What are you doing?”

  Leslie glanced at the work in front of her, groaning in disgust. “Ugh, still working on that assignment. You know, the Jackson case.”

  She heard her friend laughing over the receiver. “Oh my god, are you serious?” She asked incredulously.

  “You're such a workaholic!” said Jessica. “That isn't due for another two weeks!”

  “I just want to finish it now,” replied Leslie, staring wistfully at the notebook in front of her. “Then I can relax.”

  “Girl, it sounds like you need to relax right now,” said her friend. Leslie imagined her rolling her neck and snapping her fingers like one of the girls on MTV.

  “Get dressed,” she ordered. “I'm taking you out tonight. We're gonna have some fun.”

  “Oh Jess, thanks but -” Leslie interjected, her mind trying to come up with excuses.

  “But nothing!” Jess interrupted. “Take a shower and get ready, I'll be there in forty five minutes.”

  Leslie said nothing, too weak to argue further. “Okay, fine,” she said meekly.

  Leslie sighed as she hung up the phone. Deep down, she knew that getting out of her cramped apartment would do her some good. After all, the most stimulating conversation she had since starting law school was with her cat, Beans.

  Still, going out with Jessica was an affair in and of itself. The two friends couldn't be more different. Leslie was quiet and reserved, while Jessica was loud and outrageous. Leslie worked hard for her grades, but to Jessica, it seemed like they came easily.

  Must be an Asian thing, she thought bitterly.

  She sighed again, glancing around her tiny apartment. She surveyed the messy room, bits of Victoria's Secret undergarments strewn about like a bomb had gone off. Crusty bits of food stuck to a plate on her desk, the only remnant of what was once a bowl of pasta several days prior. Empty pizza boxes stood in a stack on the side of her desk.

  Leslie stood up, her curvaceous body casting a voluptuous silhouette against one of the walls of her apartment. She stretched her arms high above her body, groaning from the sudden release in tension. Her hair cascaded down past her shoulders messily as she stood on the tips of her toes. It felt like the first time she had moved her body in hours.

  With a sharp exhale, she started cleaning up.

  I have forty five minutes until Jess gets here, she thought. I better get moving.

  **

  As the two friends drove, they made the usual small talk. Gossip about who was doing what in class, what guys were hot, and any new flirtations made the usual rounds in the conversation. Jessica was a notorious gossip, always at the center of anything going on in the class.

  “The school is so small, you know?” said Jess, “everybody is in everyone else's business.”

  Leslie watched her from the passenger's seat. With perfect posture and a radiant smile, Jessica looked more like an alien creature from another planet than a typical law student. Despite their differences, or perhaps because of them, the two got on tremendously.

  “Not to change the subject,” said Jessica, casting a mischievous glance at her friend, “but I'm taking you to a new place tonight. Its like, one of these underground S&M clubs.”

  “Jess -” Leslie said, already beginning to voice her concern.

  “Trust me, Les, this place is crazy!” said her friend, excitement bubbling through her body. “Its exactly what you need, trust me. There's all kinds of freaks walking around down there. They all wear leather and latex, they have whips and chains and all kinds of crazy stuff. You're going to love it, I promise.”

  Leslie groaned, leaning her head back against the passenger's seat headrest. She was a small-town girl from Mississippi – she had never been to a place like the one Jess was describing before.

  “It'll be fun, I promise,” Jess said reassuringly. “Come on, why do you think I told you to wear all black?”

  “I don't know, I thought you were trying to tell me I was fat or something,” Leslie shot back.

  Her Asian friend threw her head back as she laughed, her bright white teeth sparkling in the dark night. She glanced at her friend again, but broke into laughter again before she was able to say anything. Despite herself, Leslie found herself chuckling as well. A tear streamed down Jess's face.

  “Damn it Leslie, you're going to make me ruin my make-up,” she said as another chuckle escaped her. “No, but seriously, you have to wear all black at these places. Otherwise they don't let you in.”

  “Ahh,” said Leslie.

  She glanced down at the low-cut black dress she had chosen for tonight. The tops of her heaving breasts threatened to burst from her black lace bra. Instinctively, she smoothed her dress down the length of her taut body. Other than studying, her only other passion was spending time at the gym. Her dress drooped forward, exposing her breasts even further down, the so
ft flesh spilling over from her brassiere.

  “Hey honey, save it for the club!” said Jess, watching out of the corner of her eye.

  “Trust me,” she went on, “you'll get as much action there as you want. The place is full of freaks.”

  The two friends shared another glance, breaking into another uncontrollable giggle as they continued to drive towards their destination.

  After about twenty minutes, they arrived in downtown LA. Despite being from a small town in the Midwest, Leslie wasn't too impressed with the city. Sure, there were some nice parts in Los Angeles, but the downtown area left something to be desired. Aside from drug addicts and homeless people, there wasn't much going on there, especially at night.

  “You just have to know where to go,” Jess said, trying to reassure her.

  Jess parked the car on a quiet street. As the two girls got out of the car, Leslie's heart jumped in her chest as she saw some tough looking young men sitting together on a cement wall. The two girls struck an impressive figure, clad in tight black dresses and stiletto heels, easily drawing the unwanted attention of the men.

  One of them said something to the girls, but Jess completely ignored them. Stepping out of her white Audi S8, she set the alarm via her remote. The two girls hooked arms, marching in unison towards the club.

  They approached a non-descript grey building, but to Leslie, it didn't look anything like a club. It looked like some kind of run down warehouse. The thumping of bass was barely audible from the street as they approached, but other than a few people smoking cigarettes, there were no signs of life to speak of.

  One man eyed them suspiciously as they approached. His hair was completely shaved except for a black strip along the center of his head, a bull-ring piercing between his nostrils. His pale white skin was covered in tattoos, and if Leslie hadn't known better she would have sworn he was wearing eyeliner. He blew two plumes of smoke from his nostrils as the girls approached.

  “Hi, we're here for the party,” said Jess, offering her most radiant smile to the smoking man.

  The man made a show of taking another drag of his cigarette before he answered, this time blowing the smoke to the side.

  “What's the password?” he asked.

  Jessica snorted a small laugh. Her posture stiffened defiantly as her agile mind prepared a thorny response.

  “Um, the password is that my friend here needs to get laid. So let us in your fucking club before I rip that donkey ring out of your nose,” she said, her head tilting to the side aggressively.

  The man's eyes widened slightly, a slight smile spreading across his lips. He nodded slowly, his face contorting into a show of respect for the brazenness of Jess's comment.

  “Go on in,” he said, extending his arm towards a cement staircase leading downwards. The smile fixed on his face, he hungrily eyed the two girls from head to toe as they walked by.

  “By the way,” he called out after them. “When they ask you at the door, the password tonight is 'red ball gag'.”

  “Ugh, whatever,” said Jess, her hips swinging back and forth as she approached the stairs. She and Leslie gingerly took them down, careful not to trip despite their precarious perch on their high heel shoes.

  With a glance to her friend, Jess remarked, “I'm gonna tell you something right now, Les. When you're as hot as we are, you don't need to know any fucking password to get into a club, even an exclusive freakshow like this.”

  Leslie nodded absently, her mind focused on navigating the staircase without breaking her neck.

  At the bottom of the staircase was a thick steel door. There was no handle, only a closed slit at eye level. A video camera was positioned in the corner between the wall and ceiling. A red bulb told the girls that someone was watching them.

  Jess knocked on the door impatiently, placing her hands on her hips. The slit opened violently, crashing against the side of the door with a loud bang. A pair of eyes attached to a dark skinned face appeared in the slit.

  Behind the face, Leslie caught a glimpse of all manner of black-clad figures walking back and forth. Music pumped from behind the door, having grown louder since they approached the club. Her eyes widened as she saw a flurry of motion, black leather and pale skin from behind the door.

  “Password?” asked the black face, eyeing the two girls.

  “Uh, red ball gag?” offered Leslie, suddenly feeling awkward and out of place.

  The slit slammed shut with another loud bang. Moments later, the door opened with a loud creak. As they stepped in side, the two girls were blasted by an incredible sight. It was like nothing Leslie had ever seen before, definitely not in her small town in Mississippi.

  The room was full of men and women wearing black leather. As they walked through the club, Leslie couldn't help but feel out of place. Despite her dress, “slutty” by her own standards, she was completely outdone by the rest of the people there. She watched in awe as a man, naked except for a black leather mask, was led from a dog collar attached to his neck by a lithe woman in a black latex bodysuit. She wore a satisfied smirk upon her face as she sauntered by the two girls, her chin rising defiantly.

  Blood-pumping music shook the room, filling their bodies with the vibrations of the bass. Large podiums dotted the room, a pole sticking out of each one. Girls swung from the metal fixtures, their toned muscles flexing in an erotic dance. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh sounded from across the room, moans of orgasmic bliss pinging against Leslie's ears. Freaks in all black fondled each other with sex in their eyes as bare skin and exposed sexual parts threatened to overwhelm the small-town girl.

  Before she had a chance to react, a voice came over the loudspeaker. The music stopped, and all attention turned towards a stage at the opposite side of the room. Even the sounds of sex stopped, causing Leslie to wonder if it had only been her imagination.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please,” the voice said calmly.

  Leslie stared as the man on stage spoke. He was dressed formally, a tailored black business suit hugging his masculine frame. A black silk tie hung from his neck, tucked into his blazer. Short-cropped dark brown hair framed his angular face, looking like it had been freshly trimmed. He looks like he belongs on Wall Street, not in this place, thought Leslie.

  “Thank you all for coming,” the man said, once the room was silent. “For those of you who are new here,” Leslie's heart jumped as their eyes met, “I would like to welcome you to The Dungeon. My name is Donald, but most people know me as The Jailor.”

  A cheer went up from the crowd as the patrons of the Dungeon began to clap, their appreciation apparent for the man who enabled them to enact their erotic fantasies. Loud whistles and catcalls dominated the acoustics of the large room momentarily, before Donald raised his hands in a symbolic request for silence.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice cool as ice. “It makes me happy to see so many of you here tonight. It was five years ago today that some friends and I opened this club. It started out as a dream, and look at us today!”

  Another cheer sounded from the crowd as men and women pumped their fists, screaming loudly in celebration. Leslie shot a look at Jess, who simply shrugged. Did she know it would be like this tonight? She thought.

  “As a thank you for coming to this event, I would like to offer you a special gift,” said The Jailor, his voice taking on a mischievous tone.

  He motioned to someone off stage with a come-hither gesture. A large, burly man wearing black leather pants and black boots strode on stage. His bare chest was exposed, revealing sinewy coils of taut muscle which rippled with his movements.

  In his hand, he held a leather leash, attached to a black leather collar being worn around a woman's neck. She was naked except for her white lace undergarments, a stark contrast against the sea of black in the crowded club. Her light brown hair was tied into a ponytail behind her head, while the only other adornment she wore was a red silicone ball gag stuffed into her mouth. Despit
e her heavy bust, Leslie thought she looked like a pig about to be roast over a spit.

  “Kitty and one of the Guardsmen here are going to put on a special show for you this evening, ladies and gentlemen,” said Donald, his neutral face contorting into a devilish grin.

  “Please feel free to have some drinks, enjoy the club and otherwise enjoy the facilities this evening. Thank you again for coming, and here's to another five years of fulfilling our wildest desires!” Donald shouted, raising his finger triumphantly in the air.

  The crowd cheered again, many of the patrons copying the man's gesture. Their hands rose into the air as screams filled the large open room. Bass vibrated against Leslie's skin as the music resumed, sending a shiver down her spine. She looked as she felt someone tugging at her elbow, only to see Jess staring at her with an eager gleam in her eye.

  “Come on,” she said, her grip tightening around Leslie's arm. “Let's go watch the show.”

  The two girls walked up to the stage. Carefully weaving their way past the multitude of like-minded perverts, Leslie found herself fighting the conflicting emotions she was experiencing. On the one hand, she felt repulsed by the wanton sexual acts taking place around her. But on the other hand, she felt a familiar stirring in her loins, something she hadn't felt since breaking up with her last boyfriend.

  Jess and Leslie approached the stage just as the burly man laid a powerful slap against the bare buttocks of the chained woman. His hairy chest glistened with sweat or oil, which one Leslie couldn't be sure. He bent forward, the muscles of his shoulders rippling underneath his skin, as he attached two shackles around the woman's ankles with a bar between them. The woman was rooted in place, unable to close the distance between her legs.

  With a loud click the man introduced as a “Guardsman” attached a pair of handcuffs to the woman's wrists, pinning her hands in front of her. He produced a sharp knife, brandishing it to the crowd with a flourish. Leslie gasped, later realizing that she was the only one to do so. The rest of the black-clad party-goers cheered, some even egging on the performance.