Bondage Wedding (Desired Discipline)

by Carson, Tori

  James set into motion a thorough investigation of David McGraw. He threw himself into his work to get his mind off the feeling of Amanda in his arms. Knowing she was in his bed was incredibly distracting. If she stayed in his home for very long, he doubted she’d be there alone. Her kisses were like a kick in the gut. She was trying to bring him to his knees and if he didn’t get control of the situation she just might succeed.

  The only thing keeping him from making a complete fool of himself was the knowledge that she was in danger and the case was far from cut-and-dried. There were several aspects that had him uneasy. The story she told him concerning her ex didn’t sound like what André had been alluding to. She had to be keeping something from him. Or maybe his own emotions were mixing him up.

  Still, her description of the pictures didn’t sound right either. Anyone who had experience with the lifestyle would recognize the photos were of consensual scenes, but she acted like the content of the pictures was suspicious as well. Granted there was no arguing that the stalker was trying to scare her. The comments scrawled across the last two photos were obviously threatening, but the pictures weren’t.

  Before he got too involved in his work, he needed to print her paper. He also wanted a copy of the photo that had been emailed to her. After he uploaded the necessary drivers, the printer worked just fine. Next, he double-clicked on her email icon. Damn, he immediately noticed it was for her personal account not the one for DiscipliNation.

  What the fuck? There were several unopened messages from a blog domain asking ‘Virgin’ to ‘Please Moderate’.

  Unable to help himself, he clicked on the link. It took him to a blog titled Confessions of a Virgin Sex Addict. James noted the website address then backed out of the site. He remembered to mark the email as unread before he closed out of the program. Using his own computer, he went back to the site. He saw it had been created five years earlier.

  First he went to the ‘about’ page. Maybe she was just the administrator for the site. He remembered hearing she was going after a business degree. Maybe she ran this website for a little extra cash.

  This blog was created with the intention of showing young women everywhere that you don’t have to let your genes dictate your future. I come from a long line of ‘defective’ women and their screwed-up genes were passed down to me.

  Get this—my grandmother willingly became a sex slave for her husband. If that isn’t defective, I don’t know what is. She even went so far as to invite the entire family to watch her kneel down and be collared. For those of you that come from sane families, I’ll explain. The man who ‘loved’ her put basically a dog collar around her neck and attached a leash to it. She then bowed down, kissed his feet and thanked him for his kindness…

  Thankfully, I wasn’t alive to witness that humiliation. The family, however, still whispers about it. And sadly, every time I see her, she is still wearing it.

  My mother never went that far, but she definitely has the same poor taste in men. Today, she is in her sixth marriage. I don’t expect it to last much longer. The last fight ended when the ‘love of her life’ punched out two of her teeth. We’ve been living with friends until she can ‘get back on her feet’. At least she has the good sense to hit back. Her husband was rolling around on the floor cursing my mom as we left that house. Hopefully the last time…

  My own short experience with men hasn’t been much better. I turned eighteen last week and my boyfriend wants me to get an apartment with him. He is a very sweet boy and I like him a lot. Unfortunately, it’s his best friend I have the hots for. He is a total bad boy with a motorcycle and everything. When I’m lying in bed at night, it’s the best friend I’m thinking about, not my boyfriend. Even though bad boys are like an addiction to the women in my family, I refuse to be seduced by their allure. The anti-drug campaign ‘just say no’ has become my mantra. Only it isn’t drugs I have to fight against, it is men and their very potent sex appeal.

  This had to be Amanda’s blog and yet that opening post sure didn’t sound like a woman who was traumatized by the end of her Dominant/submissive relationship or a woman who would ever work at a kink club. She sounded like someone adamantly opposed to the lifestyle.

  As he read post after post, he learned more than he ever needed to know about her sex life. He wasn’t sure which act of stupidity pissed him off more, the fact that she had given her virginity to a guy she wasn’t even physically attracted to or that she had seduced one of her professors in hopes of finding sexual satisfaction.

  Having sex for the fun of having sex wasn’t wrong, but risking her professor’s career just to test and see if she’d achieve orgasm with an experienced man set his teeth on edge. The woman in this blog seemed to not care about a single person but herself.

  It was like a train wreck. He couldn’t stop watching the drama unfold. After the professor had become enamored with her, she’d turned to a family member as a means of leaving the state. She bragged that she’d pulled a fast one and in her eyes she’d earned points for women everywhere by taking the womanizer who was three-timing his girlfriends to the cleaners.

  She had to be discussing André. It was true he had three full-time submissives, but unlike how she made it sound in her blog, they all knew about each other. How could they not? They were living under the same roof.

  Now James understood her reluctance to give him the name of her ex. That whole story had to be a fabrication as well. He wondered if the photos were just another ruse. She had access to the video equipment and it wouldn’t have been difficult to create a fake email and send it to herself. He’d have to go through her computer and see if he could find any evidence. But first he had three more months of posts to read.

  James was completely appalled by what he was reading. According to ‘Virgin’, who clearly wasn’t anymore after seducing two guys who had only had the bad luck of falling under this girl’s spell, André had opened his home to her. Then she’d fed him a line about how seeing how happy he was with his girlfriends just ‘tore her up inside’ so he’d set her up in an apartment closer to school.

  The only thing ‘defective’ about this girl was the fact that she had been born without a conscience. She’d used every man she’d ever hooked her claws into. And now she was sleeping in James’ bed—what the fuck?

  James knew knowledge was power and knowing one’s enemy was the best defense against attack, so he kept reading. About two months ago she’d started posting about a ‘client’ at work. He was the typical bad boy that she was attracted to. She wrote about this guy several times. The most recent posts were a little belligerent. She called him a sex addict without her willpower. She sounded like she was so superior to this man, whoever he was, because she didn’t give in to her urges.

  He sat back and tried to examine the case from all sides. He felt like he was looking at a multifaceted gem because this one was a doozy. It was very possible she had invented the stalker, but if that were true, she probably would have posted bragging about it beforehand. Another possibility was ‘Mr Bad Boy’ was the stalker. Or maybe the professor was exacting a little revenge. Who could blame him?

  On a personal note, James hated the thought of telling André. André had a weird complex about family and this was sure to hit him below the belt. James looked at the clock. Three a.m.? Damn, it was later than he’d thought. He considered hitting the sack in the spare bedroom—it was as far away from Amanda as possible. Even after all he’d read, he still had the urge to join her in his bed. Apparently, he wasn’t any smarter than any of the other men she’d caught in her web of deceit. Maybe less so—he knew the score and was still drawn to her.

  He decided on the couch. It was uncomfortable and too short, but he only had a couple of hours so it didn’t matter. His gut told him the stalker was a real threat and he planned to treat it as such. James set the alarm on his watch then settled in as best he could.

  By the time the alert sounded, James was wishing he’d bought one of the
armless couches. At least then he could have stretched out. After showering in the spare bathroom, he remembered he had neglected to grab clothes before he’d turned over his room to the ‘not a virgin, virgin, lying user of friends and family’ currently sleeping in his bed. Maybe if he could keep that in mind he could keep from doing something colossally stupid.

  With a towel wrapped around his waist, James stood in the bedroom doorway. Damn, she was beautiful and innocent-looking. How did that work? Either his wires were crossed, or things just didn’t add up. His instincts had kept him alive through some pretty tough times. He had learned to rely on them for his survival and he had never been steered wrong. So why were they telling him to trust this girl? By her own words—written starkly in black and white—she wasn’t trustworthy. What the fuck?

  He grabbed what he needed as quietly as possible and went to the spare bathroom to get dressed. James had no problem with nudity, but he needed to wrap his ribs. He wasn’t technically cleared for duty for another three weeks. One good assault on his ribcage would change his cracked ribs to broken. And the vain male hidden deep where he hoped no one would discover its existence didn’t want Amanda to see him in less than tip-top condition.

  Once he was dressed, he took a few minutes to examine Amanda’s laptop for signs she was her own stalker. The search turned up negative, but he made a copy of her hard drive so he could go over everything again at his leisure. He glanced at his watch making sure he had time to cobble together breakfast. It looked like he was in for a long day.

  * * * *

  Amanda awoke a few minutes before the alarm. After a moment of confusion at waking up in the bedroom of her dreams, instead of her crappy little studio apartment, she remembered the evening’s events. With a sigh of disappointment that she hadn’t won the lottery and wasn’t able to live in a place like this every day, she headed for a quick shower.

  Oh, how good the hot water felt. She’d forgotten how nice warm water was in the morning. Her apartment had the slowest hot water in the world. By the time she was done with her shower, the water had usually improved from frickin’ freezing to sorta warmish. She couldn’t remember a time when it had achieved hot.

  Amanda shamelessly took her time basking in the unexpected treat. She didn’t care if she was late for class, this was too nice to pass up. As the water began to wash away a bit of the stress she’d been under, she thought about the erotic dreams that had haunted her all night long. Naughty scenes with James in the starring role.

  “Breakfast is getting cold. Hurry it up!” James shouted from the far end of the bedroom.

  She jumped at his sharp tone, embarrassed to have kept him waiting. “On my way.”

  After quickly turning off the water, and toweling dry, Amanda rushed to get ready for school.

  When she made her way to the kitchen she got her first view of the backyard. “Holy crap!” She was tempted to press her hands and nose to the glass and stare fish-style at the totally vintage yard, but at the last moment she refrained. There wasn’t a single smear on the glass and she refused to mar the beauty.

  “Breakfast is waiting on the patio.”

  Amanda noticed James seemed tense. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, his arms were crossed over his chest and he stood a few feet away from her. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

  “No problem.”

  James went the long way, around the kitchen table, to open one of the glass panels leading to the backyard rather than walk close by her. Amanda didn’t like it. She’d gone to sleep remembering their kiss. It had kindled some very sensual dreams and she’d woken contemplating reenacting one or two. What had happened since she’d fallen asleep?

  She followed him outside and tried to soothe the tension growing between them. “I love your yard. The trees make it feel like your own private sanctuary. I like that they hide the view of the fence. I think the fences surrounding every yard was the hardest thing for me to get used to when I moved to Arizona.”

  Amanda lifted the cover keeping her breakfast warm. Scrambled eggs, bacon and toast—such a manly meal for first thing in the morning, but she wasn’t complaining. She’d been living on yogurt and oatmeal for so long she was thrilled at the change of pace.

  “I appreciate my privacy.”

  She nodded her head trying to figure out how to respond to that. She was feeling decidedly uncomfortable and unwelcome. “Thanks for cooking. Everything looks great. Do you mind if I grab the ketchup?”

  James raised one eyebrow. “You use ketchup on your eggs?”

  Heat spread across her face. She chose bravado to get through the awkward moment. “Yep, have you tried it? It’s a pretty tasty combination.”

  A smile seemed to twinkle for a moment in James’ eyes. Instead of answering her question, he removed the cover from his plate showing his eggs with a smattering of ketchup. “I’ll get it for you. Drink the orange juice, it’s fresh-squeezed.”

  Amanda watched as James went back into the house. He was wearing casual jeans that framed his butt and fed her hunger for more than food. When he turned to come back outside she quickly drank her juice, trying in some small way to appease James.

  “Thank you.” Amanda took the bottle and applied a generous helping of ketchup to her eggs. “It’s delicious.” She pointed to the juice. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. I usually just eat on the run. This is a real treat.”

  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” James checked his watch. “Eat up. We need to leave soon.”

  Amanda ate the food, thinking she could definitely get used to this. If only James wasn’t so uptight. “Did the patio furniture come with the house or did you track down the mid-century set?”

  “I bought it separately.”

  She nodded and gave up trying to draw him into conversation. Maybe he just wasn’t a morning person. “Did you have any luck printing the paper?”

  “It and your laptop are in your backpack which is leaning against the front door.”

  “Great. Thank you.” Amanda stood and gathered the dishes. Before she could pick them up, James grabbed them.

  “Get the door for me, please,” he ordered.

  Amanda pushed the chairs back in then rushed to the door to get there before James. After he set the dishes into the sink he put the ketchup back into the refrigerator.

  “Are you ready to go?” James sounded gruff.

  “In just a minute. Let me clean these off.” Amanda started rinsing the dishes.

  James opened his mouth like he was going to argue with her, but he bent down and opened the dishwasher instead.

  Before long, they were out of the door.

  In an awkward silence, James drove Amanda to the university campus. He had decided not to call her on his discoveries until he had a chance to follow up on a few things. After parking in the closest visitors’ lot to the Business Administration building, he walked Amanda to class. After checking out the classroom and seeing there was only one way in or out, he took a seat in the student lounge just across the hallway.

  Once the students were in class, he made the phone call he’d been dreading.

  “André, it’s James, how did the rest of the evening go?”

  André’d had high hopes for the club’s Mardi Gras event. Instead of bringing the community together and increasing membership, André’s friend and business partner’s wife had been abducted and he’d found out the club’s video system had been compromised by someone stalking his cousin and receptionist. Not a good night for André.

  “I spent most of it in the back office talking to the police. How are you getting along with Amanda?” André sounded tired.

  James wondered if he’d even left the club. He knew his friend sometimes crashed on the couch in his office rather deal with the estrogen ocean he called home.

  “She isn’t talking much. What can you share with me?” James was hoping André could shed some light on her home life.

  André sighed heavily. �
�Her mom is a loser magnet. She’s had more husbands than I’ve had submissives and that’s saying something.” His friend’s laugh sounded a bit forced, confirming to James that André was having a hard time keeping harmony at home.

  “From what I hear, Amanda wasn’t abused, but she sure witnessed enough of it. Her mom was a punching bag for several of her exes.”

  “What brought her to Phoenix?” James was careful to keep his voice neutral.

  “Trix, her mom, gave me a call. She was really upset.”

  James waited and couldn’t help wonder if the story would continue to match the blog. He was a little depressed that her posts were ringing true.

  “Amanda came home one night crying with bruises on her arm. Someone had man-handled her and Trix was pretty sure it was a boyfriend. She was scared to death her daughter would follow her path. She thought that if Amanda went away to school, under my supervision, we might be able to break the cycle. So I sent her a plane ticket.”

  There was no mention of bruises or any physical harm befalling the girl in the blog. “Did you see the bruises?” Then realizing how that had sounded, James quickly covered his tracks. “Did they look like a handprint?”

  “She had some smudges on her arm, but she said a customer had grabbed her to get her attention and that her mom wouldn’t believe her. I don’t know which is true and it doesn’t matter to me. She was working as a waitress in a biker bar, getting her out of there was imperative.”

  “What about this boyfriend? Was he a Dom?” He believed Amanda’s story about the customer. It fitted better with the blog posts. He remembered reading a tirade about arrogant men who thought they had the right to touch women and how they needed to respect ‘personal space’.

  “I don’t believe she was tight with anyone, but I wouldn’t say she’s ever been forthcoming with information. She arrived with a chip on her shoulder. She refused to take any money from me. While we were still in the airport she gave me the money back for the airfare. She spent the first day here at ASU working some kind of magic. Granted, she has excellent grades, but she managed a full-ride scholarship from their prestigious business school. Her second day here she found an apartment, bought a piece-of-shit car and moved out.”