Bind Me, Sir: Bonds of Worship 1

1. Chapter One-2

“So, why work?” my pilot and friend, Brock Charran asked through the noise-cancelling headphones.

Eyes closed and head tipped back against the leather seat of the twin engine turbine helicopter he called Betsy, I didn’t have to think in order to answer his question. “I have nothing better to do.”

He snorted a laugh. “Spend a month on that goddamn yacht you bought last year. Travel the f*****g world—see it all.”

“Been there, done that,” I repeated his signature line. The man had travelled the world, explored where most sane men wouldn’t venture, returning home with frost bite and skin chapped by wind and sun alike.

“Get yourself a wife and kids—that’ll keep you busy,” he said.

“As it would you,” I retorted, the beginnings of a rare smirk tilting my lips.

“Not the life for me,” he muttered.

I couldn’t agree more. I enjoyed my work as one of the CEO’s of our cybersecurity firm, but even more, I enjoyed my freedom, my privacy. I’d tried my luck with women in the past, but every damn one had aspirations of their own—beyond submitting to me.

Fame and fortune drew selfish women, and I’d had my fill of those looking for monetary benefits and social status. While thoughts of a woman truly needing me intrigued the hell out of me, I’d learned no such woman existed.

A bachelor’s life for me, made even easier by my father selling off the family estate across the pond. No more need for heirs to inherit what had been in our family for hundreds of years.

He and my mother had retired to Greece, leaving me free to make my own life in the way I saw fit. When Adam had come to me with plans to start up a new company, I had jumped at the chance to invest and help oversee it.

The third CEO of JAG would also be in attendance at Adam’s estate, and I looked forward to a debauched-filled weekend like the ones we’d enjoyed while in college together. Adam had since married the woman intended for his own father, a blonde beauty who worshiped the ground he walked on, one who also enjoyed being on display if her Sir requested.

As usual, though, Adam would have contracted a couple other women for the weekend, submissives hired only after thorough background and medical checks, along with a contract of limits and non-disclosure agreements.

My c**k took interest, swelling in my trousers at the thought of binding a woman to Adam’s altar and relieving the stress that had compounded since the last time I’d played in their church almost three months earlier.

While I allowed women to submit to me, I never filled willing holes no matter their tightness or honeyed cream dripping from their p*****s. The last thing I needed was an unplanned pregnancy, the ticket even those carefully scanned before scening might hope for.

“Be there in ten, Jordan,” Brock said, pulling my head off the seat.

The sun set to my left, casting a glow over the green trees below and smearing pink among the billowing clouds above.

Adam’s estate appeared on the horizon, a large meadow amidst the forest, the sprawling stone and timber mansion set at its center, the old church nestled against the western woods.

One of the staff hurried out to retrieve my bag as we landed, and with a quick salute, Brock lifted off to head back home to Boston.

Once the wind from the blades faded, I eyed the church, my c**k once more stirring at finding light glowing from the tall, frosted windows. It appeared as though they had started without me.

“Mrs. Hummel has your room ready, sir,” the help said, drawing my focus once more.

“Take my bag,” I said, turning for the church. “I’ll be along shortly.”

I strode across the manicured lawn to the pebbled path beyond, my footfalls eating at the distance between me and sure release. My shoes scuffed the three stairs leading to the old oak door, and I knocked a quick three raps, letting those inside know who was about to enter.

Keying in the five-digit code from memory heightened my pulse. A click, and I pushed the door inward, revealing the small church’s dim interior. As always, the scent of roses and s*x wafted over me as I stepped over the stone threshold and shut the door quietly behind me.

Lily Rose Laurent lay bent over the altar that had been moved to the room’s center, her ankles and wrists bound, holding her face down and spread eagle over its cushioned top. Red handprints marked the pale skin of her a*s and thighs, and her arousal glistened in the light of the dozens of candles burning around the room.

Adam, her husband, stood before her, n***d and sweating, his c**k shoved down her throat. He nodded in greeting before focusing on his wife’s mouth once more.

Garret sat on one of the two cushioned benches along the wall and nodded his own greeting, but turned away quickly, more interested in watching Lily suck off our best friend than pleasantries. Not that I could blame him.

I’d never had my length down Lily’s throat—Adam didn’t share—but I imagined every inch of my own c**k disappearing down her throat as his did. Every goddamn inch, until her nose rested against his groin.

He crooned his delight, his praise for taking all of him, his sweet little sub, his love, his wife.

My c**k pressed against the zipper of my trousers, and I adjusted my length while sitting on the bench across the room from Garrett, my attention on the gorgeous display of a true D/s relationship. Something I secretly longed for but knew would never be a part of my future.

“Such a good girl,” Adam whispered to his wife, stroking her hair while thrusting deeply into her throat once more. “You’ve earned your reward. Do you want my c*m in your throat or your a*s?” He pulled from between her hollowed cheeks with a pop, allowing her to answer.

She peered up at him through mascara-smeared eyes with adoration and love enough to punch any man in the gut. “My a*s, Sir.”

“Is your p***y wet for me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I bit the inside of my lip, arms spread along the back of the bench as Adam took up position behind his wife. He dipped into her p***y with a groan, coating himself with her juices before pulling out.

“Let me in, baby,” he whispered, lining up with her a*s and leaning over her back.

One slow flex of his a*s, and they both groaned, Adam straightening, head tipped back, and hands grasping her hips.

“So. f*****g. Good.” He pulled out and thrust with each word, and unable to help myself, I grasped my leaking d**k through my trousers.

Garret cursed beneath his breath.

“May they partake, sweet Rose?” Adam asked, his c**k burying between her reddened cheeks.

“Mmm,” she moaned her agreement, and neither Garret nor I needed a direct invite to do what we’d done dozens of times before.

I approached the altar as he did, freeing my erection and gliding my palm over the beading pre-c*m. Slowly stroking in time with Adam f*****g his wife’s a*s, I gave over to the need brewing in my balls, to the release that had built to the point of explosion.

“Come when you need to,” Adam murmured to his wife, but I let loose before her, ropes of my c*m shooting over Lily’s shoulders.

Garret’s marked her lower back, and Lily came with a shriek and shudder, Adam’s pistoning hips burying him deep inside her a*s. Curses spilled from all four of us as we found release.

I finished first and made my way to the bathroom to retrieve cloths for us. Since Adam allowed us to participate yet not truly partake, I handed him the one meant for Lily, and he cleaned her as she lay spent—lax—upon the table once meant for worship of another kind.

“Thank you, Lily, for sharing this moment with us,” I murmured, stepping back once cleaned up and tucked away.

She offered me a dazzling smile, her eyes at half-mast, looking like a sated woman. “Glad you could finally join us,” she whispered, and Adam untied the last of her bonds, pulling her into his arms.

He nodded at me with a grin. “I’ll talk to you boys in the morning.”

They disappeared into the large bathroom that had been built where the old raised pulpit used to be. I glanced at the king sized bed against the far wall with its black satin sheets before turning my focus back on my college buddy. “They’ll probably sleep here tonight,” I said, tipping my head toward the door. “I’ll walk your pansy a*s back to the house now that it’s dark.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to admit that you want my pansy a*s?” he said, grinning, his eyes as black as the night sky.

“f**k you.”

He chuckled, and I followed him out into the night, shutting the door firmly behind us. “You wish.”

I snorted, and he clapped my shoulder. “Adam has a couple women for us tomorrow. How ‘bout you save a little d**k for them?”

“I wouldn’t give it to you even if you begged,” I muttered, scanning the muted gray and black of the landscape as we made our way toward the house Adam had built for his wife.

“So, what the f**k made you late?”

My stomach twisted anew as my brow furrowed over the reminder of issues I had no wish to recount. “A moronic business man and a stalker from the pit of hades,” I told him anyway, since as a fellow CEO of JAG, he would learn of the s**t I’d dealt with before long.

“Shit.”

“Exactly.”

Rather than wait until over breakfast the next morning, I filled him in with a quick version of the Scorzelli affair as we made our way through the darkness. The lit windows of Adam’s home shone like a beacon offering refuge from the night—and from the tension that once more rode my shoulders.