Bondage Wedding
A Totally Bound Publication
Bondage Wedding
ISBN #
978-1-78184-989-7
©Copyright Tori Carson 2014
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright February 2014
Edited by Jennifer Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Totally Melting
and a
Sexometer
of
2.
Desired Discipline
BONDAGE WEDDING
Tori Carson
Book three in the Desired Discipline series
Amanda is seeking a man with a gentle spirit—a poet, or an artist. How can she fall passionately in love with this bad boy with a rope and a spanking fetish?
Well aware of her weakness for arrogant, dominant men, Amanda is determined to avoid bad boys. In her blog,
Confessions of a Virgin Sex Addict
, she encourages women to deny their baser instincts and search for a man with a gentle, artistic spirit.
No one suspects her secret life as the receptionist at the BDSM club, DiscipliNation. It’s the perfect gig—friendly people, cushy hours and enough pay to put her through school. All she has to do is pretend she is part of the lifestyle.
James, a professional bodyguard, has secretly admired Amanda for months. Night after night he visits DiscipliNation in hopes she will leave her receptionist’s desk to play in the great hall. When a stalker threatens to murder her, James offers to step in as Amanda’s protector, and in turn uncovers her secret life.
She isn’t the innocent little subbie she pretends to be. In her own words, she has used anyone and everyone to get what she wants. Is this stalker just a figment of her imagination, another ploy to swindle friends and family? Or is her life really in danger?
Thrust together, they both must fight their bodily desires. Being near James twenty-four hours a day is an unbearable temptation for Amanda. James knows he can protect Amanda from an attacker, but can he protect her from himself?
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my loving husband. Without his love and support this book would never have been written. He is both my inspiration and my mentor. It’s his guidance that lights my path and keeps me focused.
I’d also like to thank Sophie and Eric. What would I do without your constant harassing?
Craig, your generous words of encouragement have meant so much. Thank you.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:
Kindle: Amazon
Chapter One
James faltered as he walked into the security office and saw Amanda, the dark-haired, blue-eyed temptress who had haunted his dreams for the last three months, with tears streaming down her face. As the receptionist for the kink club, DiscipliNation, Amanda was the primary reason he spent his evenings off wandering around the great hall. It was pathetic and it made him feel like a damned fool, since she barely gave him the time of day. Not that he expected anything else from a collared submissive.
“André,” James greeted the owner of DiscipliNation and nodded to Amanda. It was bad form to speak to another Dom’s sub without their permission. Though he had virtually stalked Amanda for months now, he had no idea whose collar she wore. Ashamed to be fixated with a taken submissive, he didn’t allow himself to investigate her. Except for little tidbits of gossip, he knew nothing of her past. Instead, he spent every available minute of his time in her proximity.
“James, thank you for coming. We’ve got a situation here and we need your help.” The gentlemen shook hands and André waved James to a chair beside Amanda.
The office was small, not much wider than a hallway. Amanda was sitting with her back to a bank of video screens documenting the activity both inside and on the grounds of the club. Tonight, DiscipliNation was hosting a special public event. To keep security manageable, the privacy rooms were closed, thus the screens for those cameras were turned off.
As James sat down, he caught a whiff of Amanda’s perfume. It was hard to describe. Without meaning to, he leaned closer, inhaling the elusive, but alluring scent.
Damn it.
He didn’t need another reason to be obsessed with her.
“Someone’s threatening Amanda and using the club’s closed circuit video system to do it. Show him the latest picture.” André pulled James’ thoughts back to the business at hand.
His protective instincts went into hyper-drive. He’d been a bodyguard long enough to know he needed to stay detached, yet with Amanda that wasn’t going to be easy. She had the girl-next-door look in spades. Her body had delicious curves that sent his imagination working overtime. But her innocent, pixie face made him feel world-weary. Though they were only a few years apart, he felt like a dirty old man. He would gladly protect her from any threat, but how would he protect her from himself?
Amanda scooted the envelope and the eight-by-ten color photo she’d received that afternoon toward James. The picture had been taken outside the club’s main building in an area that had been set up for fire-play. It was obvious the photo had been tampered with. Amanda’s face had been superimposed over another woman’s body. The picture was artistic in nature—red and orange flames contrasted against the gray smoke and black night. It was clear this frame of the video had been chosen with care.
Why?
As many times as he’d visited the club, he’d never spotted Amanda in a play area. It looked to him like she never ventured beyond her desk in the lobby area. He knew that couldn’t be true. Why would anyone work at a kink club and not at least occasionally enjoy the benefits the facility had to offer?
James took a closer look at the photo. While he wasn’t into fire-play, he understood the scene wasn’t one of violence. However, the words ‘
Roast Bitch’
written across the photo in red marker left little to the imagination. He doubted there would be any evidence to be garnered by the photo or envelope, but he was careful not to touch them anyway. Using the eraser head of a pencil, James removed the picture from the envelope. He noticed it was addressed to ‘
DiscipliNation, Attention: Amanda’
. “Is this the way most mail comes addressed?”
“No, some of the suppliers use my name if we’ve been working on something special, but normally mail is sent in the club’s name only,” Amanda explained.
“You said this was the latest threat, what else has happened?”
And why the hell wasn’t I notified after the first one?
Bringing it up at this point would only muddle the issue, but he did intend to make damn sure he was aware of each development from here on out.
“First, I received an email. It wasn’t such a blatant threat.” She shook her head. “I thought maybe it was a joke or something, so I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Bring it up on the laptop. He needs to see it.” André pointed to his computer lying at the end of the counter.
Amanda pulled it onto her lap and brought up her email. The image showed her face superimposed onto another woman’s body. The woman was tied to post and receiving a whipping. Across the bottom was written ‘
Let’s Party, Bitch’
.
“It was sent by a Master X. Do you know anyone who goes by that name? It sounds a little melodramatic.”
Amanda gave him a tenuous smile then shook her head. André confirmed what James had assumed. “We don’t have any members who use that name.”
“What else has happened?” He knew there was more. Amanda looked like hell. She had dark circles under her eyes and her hands had trembled as she’d logged into the computer. This had been bothering her for a while. James looked at the date on the message. She’d received it over a week ago.
“Last night after we’d closed up, I went out to my car. On the driver’s seat, I found another envelope with a picture inside. On that one he wrote, ‘
Die Slowly, Bitch’.
”
“Two things.” James held up his index finger. “Why are you walking out to your car alone at that time of the night—scratch that—morning? And two”—he held up his middle finger—“why didn’t you tell someone immediately? You can’t tell me you didn’t understand that was a threat.”
Amanda crossed her arms over her chest and with a haughty look, she shrugged. “I planned to tell André after the event tonight. But then I got this.” She pointed toward the picture.
Women…
He would never understand them. “What did you do with the second photo? It’s evidence and we’ll need it.”
“I hid it in the closet at my apartment.”
“Why did you hide it?” He had to ask. It seemed like an odd thing to do unless she had roommates or frequent visitors. Since he was going to be shadowing her for a while, he needed to know what the situation was.
“So I wouldn’t have to look at it.” Her tone suggested he wasn’t very smart if he had to ask such a question.
James felt a smile trying to break free at her logic. “Do you have any idea who is behind this?” He was glad she was at least answering his questions. In her capacity as the club’s receptionist, she’d always been a bit standoffish toward him.
Before Amanda had taken the job, submissives had volunteered to run the desk while the club was open. They were always bubbly and talkative as if they enjoyed the suspension of club protocols while they were working.
Amanda had seemed nervous every time he’d spoke with her, even though until tonight, he had gone to great lengths to speak to her using a soft, friendly voice. He wondered if her Dom kept her on a short leash—so to speak.
“I have no idea who would do this.”
James had had to strain to hear her. Amanda was speaking quietly and looking toward the ground. Was she being dishonest? It was hard to tell. She seemed naturally submissive. Perhaps she was showing respect by refusing to meet his eye.
“Who’s your Dom?” James wanted to have a few minutes in private with the asshole for not being with her while she was obviously upset. He took his role as Dom very seriously. Although he wasn’t in a committed relationship, he cared better for the women he occasionally scened with than her Dom was caring for her.
Her chin rose and her eyes flashed a spark of fire his way. “I don’t have a Dom.”
James raised an eyebrow at her surly attitude. Some in the lifestyle made a clear distinction between Doms and Masters. Now was not the time for that shit. “Okay, who’s your Master?” James had the desire to turn her over his knee and teach her a bit of respect. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his place. One thing was for sure, James had a damn poor opinion of her Master.
“I don’t have a Master.”
Her tone had a bite to it that he didn’t understand. He looked her in the eye, daring her to turn away. “I’m not playing a semantics game with you. Whose collar are you wearing?” James watched her hand move to her throat as if she’d forgotten she was wearing one. She didn’t answer verbally, but her eyes moved to look at André.
James looked between the two in confusion. He’d heard somewhere that Amanda was a distant relative. It seemed highly unlikely they were in a relationship. André had three live-in subs. He couldn’t see Amanda sharing.
“It’s a protection collar. She had a difficult relationship.” André shrugged his shoulders. “It ended badly. Until she’s ready to try again, I offered my protection. By wearing my collar, she could work here without having Doms approach her.”