Slashfic Leather Novels & Stories

The stone was rendered from the carefully heated blood of the beast that had captured her, the very beast Aelfric had slain. Also from the flesh of this most magic monster, Aelfric had fashioned himself a box. He used the more delicate bones from its heads and paws as the structure, and stretched the creature's tanned hide around it. It matched Sil's piece only in the tiny red stones he'd baked onto the leather's surface. The blood of a chimera held a magic of its own, and Aelfric hoped that in using it, he would not only bind their souls into their phylacteries, but to each other forever.

I pick out 2, a multi-strand leather flogger, one with a hint of silver and wolfsbane coating and a hard whipping cane, one designed for pain, pleasure and punishment, the other designed for pain and punishment. I watch her eyes go wide as she then watches me walk back over to stand in front of her. I drop both the whip and the cane before stepping up close to her. I let her see as I extend my claws and then swipe them in all directions, shredding the simple dress I made her put on after the Full Moon.

I swallow the lump in my throat and descend. The air down here is cooler, thicker with the smell of leather and dust and secrets. Torches have guttered out, but faint violet light clings to the edges of things—my new sight, maybe, or the contract’s gift. The shadows dance ahead of me, playful almost, skipping along the shelves until they reach a particular bookcase. One tendril stretches, points. A heavy black tome launches itself from the highest shelf and thumps into my waiting hands. I stagger under the weight. The book is bound in leather so dark it drinks the light; no gold leaf, no embossed sigils, just smooth, inky blackness. The title is etched in silver that seems to shift when I ti

He explained, pulling the tarp off. Carrie gasped at the content of the cart. Inside were racks of the finest leather and silk she had ever seen. There were boots with enchanted soles, tunics made of breathable dragon-weave, and leggings that looked durable enough to stop a knife. “This… this is Royal quality. Even the Alpha’s wife doesn’t wear anything like this.” Carrie whispered, touching a fabric that felt like water. The man folded both hands across his chest, feeling good about himself as he huffed, “That’s because your Alpha is too lazy to work hard.”

I moved deeper into the room, pulse racing, body already warming. On a wide display shelf, tools were arranged with almost reverent care. I reached out and touched a soft black flogger, running my fingers through the suede falls. The leather was buttery smooth. My thighs pressed together instinctively as I imagined the sound it would make against skin—against my skin. Next to it were several paddles—wooden, leather, one with heart-shaped cutouts. I picked up a smaller one, testing its weight. A shiver ran down my spine. I set it down carefully and moved on.

Way better. One particular item caught my eye, and I gravitated to the cabinets, unable to stay away. It looked a lot like the cuffs she’d shown me, except that it had mirror-polished dark-brown leather straps instead of chains, and the cuffs had been hand-tooled with—yep, some kind of sigils. “These,” I breathed. “What about these?”