Bind Me, Sir: Bonds of Worship 1

1. Chapter One-1

Chapter One

Jordan

I rubbed a hand over my face and squeezed the bridge of my nose. Eyes closed and elbow propped on my desk, I considered the absolute stupidity of our newest client and his inability to put his livelihood—and clients’ privacy—first.

His IT system had been attacked, data breached, and customer information stolen. The man had a mess on his hands, and all because of his procrastination over getting JAG Security’s customized package put into place.

Our team had worked their asses off putting together what he needed to protect his business, his reputation, but his last minute, unplanned vacation with his mistress excuse put those plans on hold.

He returned to the U.S., his ignorant wife and customers pulling their investments faster than a woman’s panted “Please” could twitch my c**k.

The thought of a sub tied up and begging shifted my focus to the weekend ahead, the sure release I would find at my best friend’s place of worship. While small, the church within walking distance of his estate in New Hampshire had been redecorated and outfitted as the perfect b**m lair. A private club set up by Adam and his wife with only a handful of close friends invited to play.

While Boston offered an array of clubs for kink-minded people like myself, growing up in the public eye as part of an old family in the British peerage meant I couldn’t scene wherever and whenever I wished.

Adam’s church provided what I needed for stress relief—and it had been too damn long.

Tension rode my shoulders. Twisted my insides.

My office door flew open, jerking my focus up. A woman rushed in, stick-thin and face painted to the point of grotesque to my way of thinking. Breathless, she caught sight of me and pulled up, shifting her stance as though to entice what she could never possibly stir to life in me.

I glanced beyond her, to my gaping door, wondering how the f**k she’d gotten past security.

“Are the rumors true, Lord Graystone?” she asked with a husky tone, pulling my focus back to her blood-red lips. She slipped one of her dress’s straps down over her shoulder and sauntered forward, her fake, heaving breasts ineffective in luring me in. “I would give anything to be bound for you. Let me be your lady—just for tonight. I promise to obey. I promise to please.”

A goddamn psycho, she’d had her head fed full of bullshit by tabloids and social media of which I didn’t personally take any part. I didn’t bother addressing her mistitling me—and I sure as f**k wasn’t in need of a Lady.

I pressed a button on my interoffice phone and quickly returned my focus on the woman approaching me. The tight, silken sheath she’d worn as a dress revealed hardened n*****s and an obvious lack of panty lines. If she intended me harm, it wouldn’t arrive by way of a weapon.

“Janelle,” I said, the second my secretary answered my summons, “DND.”

She didn’t answer to my coded message, and I stood taller, looking down my nose at the woman who had dared to approach me in such a manner.

“Stop.”

She obeyed without a word, pulling up a dozen steps short of my desk like a good little sub wanting to please her Sir.

“Slip off the other strap,” I murmured the command as though I wanted to see her breasts spill from the dress slipping to her waist.

My head of security appeared in the opened doorway behind her, his footfalls silent, but I didn’t move my focus off the woman.

“Fold your arms behind your back and stick those breasts out for me—yes, just like that—”

Her moan turned into a gasp as the head of my security grabbed her arms. A mere blink, and he had her face down on the carpeted floor and cuffed.

“Get her out of my sight and call Sergeant Timmons.” I sat and exhaled a heavy breath as he dragged the woman from the room, her pleadings about only wanting to please me falling on deaf ears.

I needed a goddamn break. From work. From the results of living my entire life in the public eye. Not for the first time, I wished I’d been born a commoner rather than the son of a Lord, although my family’s money and that which I’d made since co-founding JAG with my two best friends would keep me in the limelight.

“Janelle!” I called out while shutting down my laptop for the night even though I expected to be in the office for a few more hours.

“Sir?” She peered around the still-opened doorway as though she’d been hovering for the show—exactly as I’d expected.

“Reschedule the helicopter for seven.”

“Right away, sir.”

Stretching my neck side to side, I wondered how much more s**t would land on my desk before I could escape for my long weekend away from reality.