His Rules Bundle (BDSM Erotica)

by Lyla Sinclair

  His Rules:

  Taken By Surprise

  Taken Wet

  Taken Completely

  By Lyla Sinclair

  Copyright Lyla Sinclair 2010

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2010 Lyla Sinclair

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or used in whole or in part by any means without written permission from the author at lylasinclair@gmail.com.

  All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, with or without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Mazda: Mazda Motor Corporation

  Superman: DC Comics

  Velcro: Velcro Industries

  Taken By Surprise

  Chapter One

  I couldn’t believe what I was doing, as my Mazda crept forward, looking for the address printed on a gold-leaf invitation in my lap. Although it was completely out of character for me, I—Lauren Hughes—was on my way to a night of unknown revelry with a group of strangers.

  But when I turned right and found myself driving up a long private lane to what appeared to be a mansion ahead, I began having second thoughts. Who were these people? They seemed way out of my league, financially, and it was hard to imagine that anyone living in a house shaped like a castle was putting on some kind of rave. So why would they invite Marissa?

  I pulled up onto the cobblestone drive in front of the house and stopped. Had Marissa done this to humiliate me? My car door popped open suddenly and I jumped.

  “Sorry to startle you, Miss,” a valet, decked out in an elegant black uniform, said as he pulled my door open and put out his hand for me.

  I let him help me out of the car. “Am I at the right place?” I asked, noting how quiet it seemed from the outside.

  He glanced down at my golden “ticket.” “Yes, Miss. The cars are around back. The others are already here.” He motioned toward the front door. Before I could change my mind, he jumped into my car and drove away, leaving me to shiver with nerves in the cool night air.

  I thought again about who’d sent me here, and this little outing seemed even more ill advised.

  Marissa, who my co-workers and I call the Mistress of Darkness, had been giving me a hard time again. She’s the boss’s assistant, which she thinks gives her the right to have an opinion on everything.

  All the CPA’s were in the coffee room, celebrating the end of tax season and talking about how we were going to spend our first weekend off in a month when Marissa walked in.

  “Tell us what you’re going to do Lauren,” she said cattily.

  Bitch.

  But she was right. Not only did I not have any plans, I couldn’t even imagine any to lie about. Yes, in a room full of accountants, I was the one strangers could immediately pick out as the stereotypical accountant. The problem was, knowing this didn’t help me change it.

  I wasn’t comfortable wearing anything but a suit to work and even on days when I thought my strawberry blonde hair looked presentable hanging down on my shoulders, I couldn’t leave the house without pulling it back into something more efficient-looking. I’m sure it was like walking around with “Go Away Men!” written across my forehead.

  Since I had no answer for Marissa, I didn’t reply. I just got my mug out of the microwave and dropped my teabag into it. She stared at me combatively. My four co-workers had finished pouring their coffee. As Marissa continued to watch me, every one of those cowards grabbed a donut and slinked out, leaving me alone with her.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer,” she said in a softer tone. I guess the bully act was only fun with an audience. “I know you have no life.”

  My angry gaze met hers as I tried to come up with some sort of snappy retort. Then I realized she was looking at me with sympathy. Oh, damn, that was worse! I was up for partner next year, damn it! I should not be an object of pity to the firm’s office assistants.

  “Did you ever think that it’s not that I have no life?” I hedged. “Maybe I just don’t think it’s professional to go around broadcasting the details of my private escapades to my co-workers, like some people do.” “Some people” meaning her, of course.

  “Yeah, whatever,” she said, not the least bit deterred. Then her face changed suddenly, and she looked like she’d just invented the light bulb. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I have an idea!”

  “Did I say I was worr—” I tried to argue, but she’d already sprinted back to her cube.

  She returned seconds later, slightly winded. “I got this invitation, but I can’t go—other plans.” She batted her long black lashes to indicate that her company was in great demand. “But you should go. It’ll change your life.”

  “But I don’t want to chan—”

  She looked at me doubtfully and my voice dwindled away because we both knew I was lying.

  “Won’t they realize that you’re missing and some stranger is there instead?” I asked.

  “No, it’s not that kind of party. This is a wild party,” Marissa said. Her eyes grew wide at the word “wild.” “There’ll be a lot of strangers there. You can be anyone you want. They won’t ask any questions. All you need is that invitation.”

  You can be anyone you want. That’s the part that got me. I’d felt boxed-in for so long. Maybe if I went to a wild, drunken party, I could at least have a normal conversation that wasn’t about tax shelters or audits. I wasn’t bad looking. Maybe I could even hook up with a guy and get laid.

  Knowing Marissa, I would probably be getting laid by a guy with tattoos covering his entire body and piercings in bizarre places…

  But, I decided I couldn’t afford to be so picky. I took the invitation from her hand and thanked her.

  But standing alone in front of this quiet estate, I began second-guessing everything from my decision to go there, to my wardrobe choices. Since I’d thought this was some sort of rave, I’d tried to come as close as possible to edgy, in a black leather skirt that hit above the knee, a lavender silk blouse—I didn’t own a T-shirt—and my highest black heels, no hose. This place looked more like I should be in cocktail attire, at the very least.

  But I was already here and my car was gone. Besides, I didn’t know these people. I could turn around and leave and probably never see them again.

  I forced myself to walk up the stone steps and use the golden knocker, since I didn’t see a bell. A butler answered the door and glanced at my invitation. “So glad to have you, Miss. The others are in the rumpus room. Have you been here before?”

  “Um, no,” I said uneasily.

  “The rules are there for you to read, then.” He motioned to a sheet of paper on a small table. “They are not allowed to leave the premises, though.”

  I walked over and pretended to skim over them since I’d been too vain to wear my glasses. What kind of party had rules? Not that it mattered. Whatever they were, I wasn’t likely to break any of them.

  “You can join the others at the games, now,” said the butler as he ushered me through the hallway.

  Games. Of course! Gambling! That explained everything. I hoped I had enough cash on me not to look like a complete fool.

  When I stepped into the rumpus room, I w
as surprised at the lack of black jack tables and poker chips. The place was decorated in deep burgundy and the walls seemed to be made of velvet. Situated throughout the room were large, flat sofas, like double-wide divans. The one in the middle was especially beautiful with four posts around it—almost like a four-poster bed, but lower to the floor. I wondered why the people in the room weren’t sitting on any of the furniture. Instead, they were in groups on floor pillows, nearby.

  “Come in. We’re just getting started,” a deep voice called to me. A handsome man with dark hair and black eyes motioned to me authoritatively with his index finger. Join us. We’re short on women tonight.”

  “Yeah, we could use a you over here,” said a fifty-ish man with gray hair and a matching gray moustache. I noticed that the blonde woman sitting with them didn’t seem pleased to see me, but the balding, heavy-set man to her left appeared thrilled.

  I walked over and sat down on the floor, trying to arrange my legs so that no one could see up my skirt. It had been almost knee length standing, but in this position it rode up to mid-thigh. The handsome stranger who’d invited me over saw me tugging on it and smiled. “That’s not necessary,” he said. His voice was firm and masterful. His confident tone was a definite turn-on. My cheeks felt warm and I hoped I wasn’t blushing. Thirty-four was way too old for that to be attractive.

  I glanced around the room and counted six other groups. When my gaze returned to our area, I suddenly realized there was a Monopoly board on the floor in front of us. Very funny, Marissa! She’d sent me straight from tax season to a Monopoly party! I made a mental note to murder her bright and early Monday morning.

  “What’s your name?” The man said.

  “Lauren,” I answered, feeling a bit shy in his awesome presence. He was dressed casually, in a black turtleneck and slacks, but everything about him reeked of high quality from his clothing fabric to his hair cut.

  “I’m Richard. Welcome to my home,” he said. “And this is Lenore.” He motioned to the blonde, a lovely woman in her late forties with a really nice chest, which she was showing off in a draping, low-cut blouse. She nodded at me with a smirk, making it crystal clear she was not happy to meet me.

  Richard gestured toward the two men at the table. “This is George and that’s Martin.” George was the portly one. Martin had the moustache. Neither of them was nearly as striking as my host. “I’m glad you came,” he said, as though he knew me and I was an invited guest. I could feel his eyes boring right through mine. I stopped breathing for a moment.

  “Um…nice to meet you…” I suddenly remembered the others were there, “you all, I mean.” How bad could a night of Monopoly be in the company of a man as hot as Richard?

  “Have you read the rules?” Richard asked.

  “Yes,” I lied. I hoped they were just the standard Monopoly rules. I could probably remember most of those.

  We proceeded to choose our markers and roll. Richard was designated as the banker. After thirty minutes of play and friendly banter, including quite a bit of innuendo between Lenore and the men, several properties had been purchased, mostly by Richard and George. Lenore rolled the dice and landed on Park Place.

  “That’s mine,” Richard said.

  “And the rent is…” Lenore shuffled her money around.

  “Oh, you know your money’s no good with me, darling,” Richard said.

  Lenore flashed her green eyes at him. “Oh, no?” She pouted. “Then how shall I pay?”

  “By showing us those lovely breasts of yours…the blouse comes off.”

  I thought their joking had gone a bit overboard, until Lenore took the bottom of her blouse in both hands and pulled it slowly over her head. I tried to keep my jaw from dropping, first from the realization of what kind of game we were playing, then from admiration of Lenore’s gorgeous cleavage. I wasn’t sure if they were implants or not, but I could see why the men didn’t want to take their eyes off her. Her lacy demi-bra barely covered her nipples and her lovely breasts heaved with each breath she took.

  “Even you can’t help staring at them, huh Lauren?” George said. I could feel my face turning pink.

  Richard stepped in and saved me by reminding George it was his roll. I began dreading every turn, afraid I would be expected to strip. A part of me wanted to get up and leave, yet another part—the part I hadn’t known existed until that moment—needed to stay and see what happened. After several minutes, I landed on Reading Railroad.

  “That’s mine!” George said triumphantly. “Permission to accept alternate payment, Mr. Banker?” He asked.

  “Of course,” Richard said.

  I nervously reached for my top button, as I considered running for the hills. There was no way I could compete with Lenore’s lovely rack. Although I was probably fifteen years younger, my smaller breasts would still be a disappointment.

  “No,” said George. “The skirt. I’m an ass man and I noticed yours when you walked in. And I’m calling privilege.”

  I guess it was silly to be relieved, but one thing I did know was that I had an above average derriere. I was glad I’d forgone the pantyhose tonight. And just in case I’d gotten drunk enough at this “wild” party to get friendly with a man, I’d worn brand new lacy undergarments.

  I reached behind me to find the zipper.

  “Banker!” George seemed to be objecting.

  “Lauren, if you read the rules, you know that a woman’s skirt must be taken off in a standing position, with her back to the group.”

  “Oh,” I said. I stood and turned, feeling suddenly more vulnerable, since they would soon be staring at my ass. With shaky fingers, I took the zipper in my hand. I sucked in a deep steadying breath, trying to summon the courage.

  “Wait, I called ‘privilege,’” George said.

  I stopped, not knowing what he meant.

  “Go ahead,” said Richard. “But remember there’s only one per game per player. Personally, I think you called it too soon.”

  “I don’t,” George said. He stood and positioned himself behind me. My legs felt shaky. What was he going to do to me? I felt his hands at the top of my skirt and heard the zipper go down. The cool air hit my lower back first. Then I felt it on the barely covered skin of my bottom. He pushed the skirt down slowly over my hips. It fell to my ankles.

  “Nice,” George said, apparently admiring my backside, clad daringly in black lace. “May I?” He took my hand and helped me step out of my skirt. Then he picked it up and folded it neatly, laying it beside me.

  “Beautiful!” Martin said, just before I turned back toward them.

  “Thank you, Lauren,” Richard said. “I believe it’s my roll.”

  I sat down, trying again to arrange my long legs into a lady-like position, a task made even harder now since I was only wearing high heels, a blouse and panties. The game continued and soon Lenore too was skirtless, then braless, much to the pleasure of the men at the table. Soon after, I landed on Park Place.

  “Now the shirt,” said Richard.

  It was the moment I’d been dreading. I had breasts and I definitely looked like a woman, but they would be molehills next to Lenore’s mountains. And was it weird that I was insulted because Richard hadn’t called “privilege”? I unbuttoned my shirt and removed it. My bra was more ample than Lenore’s—so at least my little breasts were still hidden.

  “I have a hotel there, Lauren.” Richard said softly. “That means the bra too.”

  I breathed in suddenly. I felt tears straining behind my eyes, realizing that beautiful Richard was about to gaze at my body and be disappointed. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Go ahead.”

  He had a reassuring way about him and I knew he’d guard my feelings. I reached behind and unclasped my bra. As it fell away, my eyes drifted downward in embarrassment. “They’re lovely, Lauren.” Richard said.

  “The nipples…”said Martin. “Like roses.” I felt said nipples pucker under the gaze of the three men.

  “Alw
ays the artist,” Lenore said sarcastically.

  Was she jealous of me?

  On my next turn, I landed on one of the utilities that George owned and with great relish, he requested that I remove my panties. I sat stone still for a moment, honestly unsure of whether or not I could do this. But then I looked at Richard’s face. He was cool, as always, but expectant. I realized I wanted him to see. After all, he’d seen the less favored parts of my anatomy. I wanted him to know I had one part that was really great.

  I stood and turned around, making sure Richard had the best view of my backside. I hooked my thumbs into the sides of my little lacy bikinis. The others may have thought I was pausing for effect, but I was stalling. Was I actually about to strip myself naked in front of a room full of people?

  I looked around and, sure enough, several heads were turned toward me from other groups. I felt like the entire room was focused on me. I’d never done anything even remotely like this in my life.

  Just as I began to pull them down, I realized that the excitement of the game had already dampened my panties. I slid them slowly over the curve of my bottom and had to bend over just a bit to push them down.

  George gave a guttural grunt, like some sort of horny cave man.

  When my panties cleared my knees, they fell to the floor. I stepped out of them, now clad only in a pair of four-inch high heels.

  I turned back toward my group.

  “Holy Moses!” I heard one of the more “religious” players exclaim from the corner of the room. At least that bolstered my confidence, although I wished Richard would say something.

  Within a few minutes, Lenore sat across from me, also completely naked. Martin was shirtless, but Richard and George had both managed to keep their clothes on. I started to wonder if this game was stacked against the women.

  Regardless, I couldn’t believe I’d let things go this far and I couldn’t imagine what would come next, but was afraid to ask. Besides, I was supposed to have read those damn rules.

  “I call a count,” Richard said suddenly. Everyone began counting their money. Lenore was in the worst financial shape, followed by me. I was glad no one here knew what I did for a living.