An Undercover Submissive [Safeword LLC 5] (Siren Publishing Sensations)

by Peyton Elizabeth

  “You mean, you’re in their apartment? Right now?”

  “Yes,” Trish answered. “Although, they aren’t home right now. They’re at work. But I’m not understanding the one command a day thing.”

  “You signed a contract with two Dominants?”

  “Carrie,” Trish said, knowing her exasperation was shining through, “would you just answer my question? And it’s a day-to-day contract, which I know is unusual, but it was the only way I would agree to this. It is, after all, about research.”

  “I need coffee,” Carrie mumbled. Trish could hear the sheets being pushed aside and knew her sister was heading to the kitchen. She felt a small amount of guilt at having woken her up, but that quickly went away with her next words. “Two men? Jeez. Let me get this straight. The first day, they had you call them Master. The second day, you were to keep your eyes downcast until told otherwise. Then, you were to write down one word on a piece of paper describing your feelings for the remainder of the week. I know I’m probably going out of the order for the remainder of the days, but you were given positions to learn—in the privacy of your own bedroom, a vocabulary list to memorize, you were required to look up the word deportment and demonstrate your understanding of it, and you had to redo your soft and hard limits. How did all of that make you feel?”

  Trish frowned, not understanding the question. “What do you mean? I just want to know why they would do that. Shouldn’t they be telling me to get undressed, tying me up, and spanking me?”

  “Do you want to be spanked?”

  “What?” Trish uncrossed her legs and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Of course not. I’m not like you. I don’t understand why you like that kind of kink—which is fine. I’m not judging. I’m just arguing the fact that this so called Lifestyle is just an excuse for sadistic people to abuse submissive thrill seekers.”

  “Why?”

  Trish opened her mouth to answer and then shut it again. Her sister had to ask why? Because it was naïve women like her who trusted men who claimed to be part of a Lifestyle and then did unimaginable things once they got them defenseless. At least she had James, her own Special Forces Commando, on speed dial should she need him. Trish wasn’t about to say that aloud, though.

  “You know why. But let’s just say for the sake of argument that Lashe and Sander are Dominants and partake in BDSM. Why would they spend the week giving me one command a day and not touch me?”

  “They sound like smart men to me,” Carrie said. Trish wondered if there was a double meaning behind that answer but remained silent. She heard the clink of glass and knew her sister was getting some coffee. “Although I am trying to wrap my head around two. Trish, a Dominant has to establish trust with their submissive. Without trust, there is no relationship. It sounds like they are taking things slow and developing that trust before pushing your boundaries. I also did a lot more research and spoke with a lot of people after what happened to me. What happens when they come home?”

  “Nothing!” Trish exclaimed. “That’s the problem. Look, I admit they are very, very attractive men. I wouldn’t mind taking things to the next level, although I’m not so sure I want to be tied up. But good old-fashioned sex sounds good right about now. I’m not used to being surrounded by good-looking dominant men for sixteen hours a day.”

  “What do you know about their family?”

  “Um, their mother and father live in Springfield. They have some aunts and uncles scattered throughout the Midwest as well. Why?”

  “What’s Sander’s favorite color?”

  “Blue. You ignored my question. Why?”

  “What is Lashe’s bad habit?”

  Trish blew her bangs back, clearing her vision as she continued to pace. “He has a habit of losing his car keys. I help him find them every morning and in the oddest places. Carrie, I didn’t call you to rehash their personal lives and you aren’t helping me figure this out. Do you think they aren’t interested anymore because I’m still working on my article?”

  “I swear, you would think I obtained my master’s instead of you,” Carrie mumbled, followed up by a loud sip of what had to be coffee. “They’re establishing a foundation of trust, Trish. They are forming a relationship with you, one step at a time. My bet is that you told them everything about you and our family, except what happened to me. Am I right?”

  Trish frowned. Did she trust them? Had they worked her over these last seven days, thinking that she would blindly continue to be led down a path that she knew was corrupted with vile people?

  “Trish, when you call them Master or when they give you praise…how does that make you feel?” Carrie asked softly, as if she were aware that her question had Trish’s heart racing.

  “I need to go,” Trish said, walking toward the bathroom. “Sorry I woke you. I’ll call you in a week or two. Bye.”

  Trish hung up the phone and placed it on the counter. Leaning in, she almost didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. Since when had her cheeks had a natural blush to them? Her emotions and the past week had her thoughts in turmoil, and she wasn’t so sure where her convictions had gone. Hell, she wasn’t sure who the hell she was anymore. Scrunching her nose at herself, Trish spun around to turn on the shower. It was time to reestablish herself.

  Chapter Six

  Sander and Lashe had agreed with each other to come home late today in order to give Trish some extra time going over her soft and hard limit lists. The week had given them exactly what they had wanted and now it was time to push her boundaries. Whether she knew it or not, Trish Lawton had come to trust them on some level. It was time to see how much.

  “Did you speak with James today?” Lashe asked, standing beside him in the elevator. Sander had pressed the forty-sixth floor and was impatiently waiting for the large cage to arrive at its intended destination. “He’s being evasive regarding Trish’s sister.”

  “I spoke with Kennedy,” Sander replied, watching the numbers light up above the door. “She won’t release the information to us. She states that this is a special circumstance where it would be better for Trish to open up to us.”

  “I take it you hired Nolan Emery? He’s done great detective work for us in the past when we needed to corroborate a story.”

  “I placed a call into him, although I’m hoping Trish opens up a little more about her sister.”

  The ding of the elevator indicated their arrival. Sander was the first one off and didn’t even bother to glance to his right. There were two apartments on this level and they rarely saw their neighbor. Immediately shifting to his left, Sander stopped when he saw the front door ajar. He’d had an odd feeling since they’d pulled into the underground garage and now he knew what it was. Somehow, someway, he’d known that Trish was in trouble.

  Before he could stop Lashe, his brother was through the door in an instant. Sander was one step behind. Their living room was the first thing a person saw when entering the door, so Sander had a full visual of what was happening. Senator Shelton was standing in the middle of the room, although his stance seemed nonthreatening. Trish rose to her five feet and four inches, with her hands on her hips. This couldn’t be good, he thought. Sander had really thought she’d lain off of her article, but it was obvious he’d been mistaken. But just how far did she push it today?

  “Senator,” Lashe said, walking across the room and coming to stand next to Trish. Sander felt more comfortable watching from afar, especially knowing that Lashe would protect Trish if needed—not that he thought Shelton would do anything stupid. “May we help you?”

  “Yes. You can have your little girlfriend stop following me. I really thought that once she was removed from the club, we wouldn’t have any more issues. That was before my assistant caught her taking pictures of me this afternoon at a business lunch.”

  “I am right here, you know,” Trish said, crossing her arms. “And we both know that wasn’t a business lunch. It was the same woman at the club that you—”

  “What the
Senator does with his personal time is none of our business,” Sander said, interrupting Trish before she took things too far. “Senator, our apologies. Ms. Lawton resigned from Cunningham Publishing and is currently taking the time to learn about the Lifestyle.”

  “Don’t apologize for me, damn it,” Trish said, her hands going back on her hips. “I was at the club that night and that woman—”

  “Is my fiancée,” Warren said, taking a step back and facing Sander. “Sander, I don’t know what game you’re playing with her or if you truly think you can get this harpy to change her way of thinking, but make sure she stays out of my way. I’ll have her arrested for stalking in under an hour if I see her again. Are we clear?”

  “We’re clear,” Sander said, nodding his head in acknowledgment. He shot Trish a look that she was to remain quiet. For once, she took him seriously. He breathed deeply, knowing that this moment might be the only one he would get to appreciate for the remainder of the evening. “I apologize for the intrusion this afternoon. It won’t happen again.”

  Sander turned and followed the Senator to the door. It was still open and when Warren walked across the threshold, he turned back around.

  “Sander, in my position, I can’t afford the scandal that her article would cause me. Heidi doesn’t deserve that either. I’m not a man who tolerates people like Ms. Lawton putting her nose in other people’s business, but I’d go about this above board. I can’t say the same for my colleagues. She’s messing with fire.”

  Sander knew what Warren meant, and though his warning was a wake-up call that he and Lashe would have to keep closer tabs on Trish’s daily activities, he wasn’t a man to be cowed.

  “I appreciate the advice, Senator,” Sander said, wanting to keep this conversation civil. They weren’t at the club and they certainly weren’t friends. “We’ll stress that to Trish, but know that she is ours—and I don’t mean that in a business sense. She’s our submissive. Anyone stepping out of line will find my brother and I most accommodating if they wish to seek satisfaction. Am I clear?”

  Sander could see the surprise in Warren’s face, but the man covered it up rather well. With a nod of his head, he turned to leave. Sander took his time closing the door. It didn’t take two seconds before Trish started telling her side. He turned to face her, leaning up against the door and placing his hands in his pockets. Lashe crossed his arms, raising one hand to rub his fingers over his mouth. Sander knew his brother well enough to know that he was hiding a grin. Lashe always loved when a woman got riled up, and Trish was no exception. His brother was probably thinking of a million ways to contain that energy and channel it through a good flogging. Personally, Sander thought a gag would be more appropriate. His cock twitched at just thinking of a small red ball placed between her plush lips.

  “There is absolutely nothing wrong with sitting in a restaurant and taking a photograph of an up-and-coming Senator. The press do it all the time.”

  “You’re no longer with the press,” Lashe said, widening his stance. “Trish, this isn’t about kinky sex. BDSM has protocols and the clubs are the safest places for people to play. They are observed by Dungeon Monitors to ensure the safety of the submissives. You know this. Why are you still so dead set against believing that we would have stood there and let his submissive be hit with a cane if she really didn’t want that to happen?”

  “She said no, Lashe!”

  “I think it’s time for you to experience firsthand what Heidi was feeling, Trish. You’ve had a week, and in all that time, you’ve never forgotten our titles like you have in the past few moments. Your safe word is Caption for use during a scene, or you may say Monarch, which the use of will make the contract null and void.”

  “What do you mean experience? And I know what my safe words are. Why tell me?”

  “Because this might be the instance where you use it,” Sander said, fisting his fingers. His heart sped up at the thought of her walking out after having spent the last week getting to know her, her likes and dislikes, her passions and what made her laugh. But every good Dominant knew when it was time to push his submissive’s boundaries and the time had come. He hoped like hell that she responded well to what they had planned. “Go to my bedroom and undress. I want you in the display position on the end of my bed. You have five minutes.”

  “You can’t do that,” Trish said, her face full of shock. For once, Sander was pleased to see he had her off balance enough to where she didn’t blow her bangs in frustration. “I–I’m not—”

  “Yes, I can,” Sander replied, pushing himself off of the doorjamb. He slowly walked toward her until they were inches apart. She peered up at him through her thick lashes, and he swore he could feel her breath leave her lips in shallow bursts. “I’m giving you an order, little minx. You’ve done really well and I’m proud of how far you’ve come this past week. But you knew that, eventually, we would push for more. Now is that time.”

  * * * *

  Trish stood inside of Sander’s bedroom, taking in everything yet seeing nothing. She registered that his bedroom was very much like his personality. There were a lot of browns and masculine furniture with no splashes of color. Dark wood lined the room, and when her gaze landed on the bed, her vision became tunneled. How many more minutes did she have?

  “Use your safe word,” Trish whispered to herself, all the while reaching for the hem of her white shirt. She slowly pulled it over her head, hoping that she would come to her senses. “One word is all it will take to end this.”

  Trish knew she wouldn’t use it. At least, not unless they used an implement. If they pulled out a flogger, a whip, or God help her, a cane, she would scream Monarch. Deep down, she knew they wouldn’t do that—at least not yet—at least she didn’t think so. Did that mean Carrie was right and that she’d come to trust them?

  She walked over to the mirrored dresser and placed her shirt on the wooden surface. Her bra shortly followed. Had she purposefully gone out today to antagonize the Senator? Had she known that he would tell Sander and Lashe? Trish was confusing herself, yet all she knew was that she didn’t want this feeling to go away. She quickly removed her jeans, and when she stepped out of her panties, she found them soaked. How could one order from them get her body to respond in such a way?

  Trish couldn’t bring herself to look in the mirror, so she turned quickly and made her way to the bed. It was high, but she managed to crawl on the soft mattress. The velvety comforter felt warm underneath her knees as she situated herself into position. She could feel herself trembling as she clasped her hands behind her neck and wondered if they’d be able to see it once they entered the room. What did they have planned?

  The doorknob turned, and Trish found herself holding her breath. Would they like her body? Were her breasts too small? They were only a B. They said they liked their women bare, but she’d always maintained a more natural appearance. Trish couldn’t get her mind to shut off. Since when had she worried about such stuff? Shouldn’t she be more concerned with the fact that she was actually doing their bidding when she was a strong-willed and independent woman? The door swung open.

  “I want to see this vision every night when we retire.”

  “I’m in full agreement,” Lashe murmured, walking closer. Trish fell into the same routine she’d been doing for the past week and kept her eyes downcast. It had come so naturally, that she almost looked up on purpose, but then thought better. “You’ll move your things into Sander’s room tomorrow. This is where we’ll be staying.”

  Since when had this turned personal instead of remaining business? Trish felt her breath hitch, knowing that the minute she agreed to this that it had nothing to do with business. She loved the way they made her feel, the way they touched her, and what they were willing to teach her…so far. She always had her safe word if things went too far and people who would be there for her as back-up if needed—unlike her sister.

  “Trish, we’re going to be touching your entire body this evening. We
’re going to tie you to the bed, but not in a manner you might think. Your arms will be bound to each corner. Lashe will be placing cuffs around your ankles and thick bands around your thighs. They will be pulled up and apart, giving us access to your pussy and ass. You’ll receive pleasure, along with your first lesson of obedience and hopefully, proof that all is not as it seems.”

  “There is one thing that you must remember,” Lashe said, continuing where Sander left off. Trish wasn’t sure she wanted to know any more. The more they spoke, the more she was thinking maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Her body was experiencing sensation it had never felt before. Her clit was actually throbbing in beat to her heart. “The only way this scene will stop is if you use your safe word. Look at me!”

  Trish raised her eyes slowly until they connected with his green eyes. The brown flecks were almost glowing and, what happened every time they ordered her to make eye contact, her blood rushed through her ears. Why was that? Did they do it on purpose?

  “What is your safe word?”

  “Caption, Master Lashe.”

  Lashe smiled and she realized that she fallen back into their routine. Her stomach felt like it had taken a spin on a roller coaster and was in the drop phase of the tracks. Why did it seem like they knew something she didn’t? When his gaze dropped to her breasts, she forgot her inquiry and immediately wondered what he was thinking.

  “There is one thing I want to make certain before we continue,” Sander said, blocking her view of Lashe with his body. Trish hadn’t been aware that he’d removed his suit jacket and tie. His sleeves were rolled up and the first few buttons were undone. He looked sexy as hell. She kept her eyes downcast, which was in direct line with his cock. She’d been thinking that she’d really like it if he’d finish undressing, but that thought flew out the window when she saw his hand reaching for her. “Are you wet?”