Punishing for Pleasure

by Avery Gale

  Posing as the newly purchased head of the senator’s security team put him right where he needed to be, but after the accident involving Ms. Lanham’s car yesterday, Trac needed to find out who else was playing. He had often likened undercover work to a game of chess where several people had pieces on the board at the same time. There had been occasions so many stakeholders and players were involved he’d been tempted to tack notecards to the wall in an effort to sort out who was who in the zoo.

  “I was working on the last details, but the accident involving her car changes things. I can guarantee you the Wests and the rest of the Prairie Winds team are going to close ranks around Ms. Lanham. I’m sure it has already happened. She is going to be difficult to manage now.” He let his words trail off, deliberately being vague in hopes Stevens would take the bait and explain exactly what he was expecting in the end. So far the man had only asked Trac to put a tracer on her phone, set up a few cams, and tap into her home security system. He’d even left the damned monkshood on the table the asshat had requested. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. How did the man have time to research that piddly-assed shit anyway?

  Trac hadn’t made any big effort to hide the cameras he was supposed to place throughout the Lanham house, and he’d been surprised the four former SEALs hadn’t found them immediately. But then they’d been pretty distracted by that hot scene in the dining room. Being a Dom himself, Trac had known just how focused the two men administering the punishment had been. Even at a distance, the intensity of the scene had drawn him in. Trac had been glued to the monitor taking in every nuance…every unconscious response, gasp, and moan. The other two Doms who had joined them after completing a sweep of the grounds had been just as drawn in, so perhaps it wasn’t a surprise the equipment had gone unnoticed until this morning.

  Trac had scrubbed the feed, there was no reason for Mr. Self-Righteous to see something he would completely misinterpret. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why the senator and Ms. Lanham hadn’t clicked. Hell, the woman was as submissive as any Trac had ever seen and her need for pain would have likely flipped a switch in the man whose only love was his career. I can only imagine how that conversation went down. “Hey, I need more…you know….can you beat me or something?” Queue detonation…

  Unfortunately the good senator didn’t seem like he wanted to lay his plans out just yet. “I didn’t rig the car if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I wasn’t implying anything. I was just explaining why things are going to be more complicated now. Perhaps if I knew exactly what you were hoping to achieve, I might be able to help you find a way to get there.” Studying Stevens for a few long, silent seconds during which Trac noted the man had very few “tells” and that meant he was either telling the truth or he was a fucking Zen Master…and Trac’s money was on the former.

  “Are those cameras you planted working?”

  “Not now. Keep in mind the men that are guarding Ms. Lanham are former Navy SEALs. America’s best don’t miss spy cams when they do a security sweep.” Well, they don’t miss them as long there isn’t a naked woman bent over the table being lashed for not telling anyone she was in trouble. Oh that hadn’t been their excuse, but it had damned well been the reason. “Even if they hadn’t found them, we wouldn’t be getting anything because they’ve set up a jammer so the tracer we put on her phone isn’t working either.” Of course he’d used the most outdated equipment he could get his hands on hoping the SEALs would start questioning what was happening.

  “If you weren’t responsible for the accident, that means we have another player on the field and we need to find out who that is—sooner rather than later.”

  Before Stevens could respond a quick rap sounded on the door just a second before one of his admins walked in, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had someone with you, Senator, I didn’t see anything on your schedule.” Trac stood and even in the spiked heels she was wearing, his six and a half foot frame towered over her. His friends and family had often teased him about scaring little old ladies and small children just for practice, but the odd thing was those were the two groups that seemed completely immune to his best efforts to intimidate them. There were several elderly widows in his neighborhood and they kept him supplied in food and baked goods to the point he’d finally had to add another day to his gym schedule. And he’d made valiant efforts to coerce his nieces and nephews into behaving without any success whatsoever. But the woman standing in front of him lying through her teeth was eyeing him warily. Interesting. She looked enough like Merilee Lanham that they might be mistaken for one another at first glance, but this woman’s look came off as “trying too hard” where Ms. Lanham’s grace was innate.

  When he met her gaze he shifted his feet wide and crossed his arms over his chest in a pose every submissive in the world would recognize, and just as he’d suspected it would, her chin dropped and she suddenly became very interested in everything but him. Her body language was screaming sub, but her eyes sent an entirely different message. Trac had been a Dom for a long time and he’d seen women who craved the attention they received during scenes, they loved having a Dom focused solely on seeing to their pleasure, but they were just playing. In many ways they were like any other narcissist.

  This woman doesn’t understand the first thing about the power exchange, which is the foundation of BDSM. He was willing to bet her view of submission didn’t even hold a mention of pleasing her Dom, and everything the woman standing across the room from him did was calculated down to a gnat’s ass. She’d never handed over her trust because she probably didn’t trust anyone, not even herself. In some ways she and her boss were a match made in heaven. Trac wondered if Stevens had even noticed that he’d attempted to replace Ms. Lanham with a very cheap imitation.

  Well, well, well. Things just keep getting more interesting all the time. I’m more than a little curious about Ms.Trish-the-Admin’s story, because something about her is flipping all my alarms.

  *****

  Trish knew the new security chief was in Senator Steven’s office because she’d been in the next room listening to every word they’d said. John Stevens didn’t pay any attention to his phone and Trish had learned within the first couple of days in the office how to program his phone so it operated as an open mic to her phone. All she had to do was put on her headset and pretend to be transcribing. She’d heard more than enough to ensure the good senator wouldn’t be firing her anytime soon. Hell, she had enough on him and several of his cohorts to guarantee her financial future, and she intended to cash in as soon as she got rid of the bitch who’d stolen her men. Stevens and his new security hot shot had been boring her to distraction with all their dancing around one another in their conversation. She’d had to fight not rolling her eyes at their tedium, but when she’d heard them begin discussing the accident, it had been time to step in.

  Trish was grateful she’d had the foresight to prepare something that needed the senator’s attention so it had been quick and easy to simply scoop the documents up from the corner of her desk, give a cursory knock, and then step into Senator Dip-Shit’s office. But that was the point where everything she’d planned came to a screeching halt. She had only seen Trac Hughes once, and he’d been down the full length of the corridor and she’d just caught a glimpse of him before he’d moved through the elevator’s open doors. She’d noted his height but the intensity of the man she now faced had been diluted…vastly diluted, by the distance. The chill that raced up her spine was a sharp contrast to the heat that flooded her sex. For just an instant she saw interest flare in his eyes, but it faded quickly as his eyes moved over her. He’d seen something that had caused his gaze to shutter and his entire demeanor had shifted. The shift had been subtle, she’d give him that, but it had been there. Her body had reacted despite her best efforts to stifle the response.

  Everything about the man screamed authority, and in the back of her mind Trish wondered if he was a cop. But it was the sex
ual Dominant that was front and center, and that was who she had to deal with at the moment. His stance mirrored that of every Dom at Prairie Winds and his assessment of her had been instant. She could only hope he saw the illusion most men saw, a reasonably attractive submissive, not the calculating woman whose agenda didn’t include anyone who didn’t cater to her needs. But at the very least she had successfully derailed their conversation about the accident. The less time people around her spent discussing that misstep, the less likely she was to react and draw attention to herself.

  Trish had been glad to hear the man driving Merilee Lanham’s car hadn’t been seriously hurt, after all why risk a homicide charge for someone she didn’t care about? The only time she made mistakes was when she rushed and this had been an epic example. Concentrating on the conversation, she tried to tune out the man standing to the side watching her with a focus that made her uncomfortable on several levels.

  *****

  Mark Stefano paced in front of the desk where his laptop sat open, taunting him by displaying the email he’d written and re-written a hundred times. Every time he stalked by his desk the damned thing was still prominently displayed. Despite the fact he knew exactly what he wanted to say, the words never seemed just right once he’d typed them out. Hell, if he wasn’t such a damned coward he’d just call his daughter or better yet, suck up his damned pride and show up on her doorstep. But realistically, how many times could he expect her forgiveness? Fuck me, this is a mess. How could I have let things get so out of control? I’ve thrown away the only family I have left. When he and Nalia had first gone into hiding, the pain of losing Regi had been so much more than he’d expected, and then losing Nalia a few months later had sent him over the edge. He’d spent the next several years in a fog that had rarely lifted long enough for him to even acknowledge where he was. Moving between his family’s several homes had been his way of avoiding the fact none of them was a real home, because the two women he’d loved beyond measure weren’t there.

  Instead of reaching out to Regi—the one person who might have been able to pull him back from the precipice, he’d retreated into his own head and wallowed in the grief for the better part of ten years. By the time he’d finally managed to pull himself back together, he’d been so deep in the family business, there hadn’t been a way out. Mark had merely dabbled in the drug trade and had avoided the sex-trade end of things entirely, preferring to concentrate on the acquisition of antiquities and their very lucrative resale. One of the first things he’d done after his mother died was shut down all their sex business trade. Saying it had been an unpopular decision was a gross understatement, but even his harshest critics had finally agreed when worldwide attention began to force authorities to make at least a cursory effort to curb the booming worldwide sex trade industry. The attention hadn’t been Mark’s reason, he’d actually been completely repulsed by the things his mother had sanctioned solely by her inattention.

  Stepping back up to his desk, he looked down at the screen but didn’t re-read the words he’d already read so many times. Taking a deep breath, Mark forced his shaking finger to press the key that sent the message and he prayed it set his future in motion. No matter the response, every hope he held for the future rested in her hands. More accurately…it all depends on whether or not Regina can find in in her heart to forgive me…again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Meri had heard both Tobi and Gracie rave endlessly about Ash’s cooking abilities, but she’d still been completely bowled over by the meal he’d prepared in such a short period of time. It wasn’t any secret the staff her mother employed kept the kitchen well stocked, but the basic fare he’d prepared had been delicious because of the special spices and his attention to detail in its preparation and presentation. All four men had stared at her, amused expressions on their faces as she’d cleaned her plate, not once but twice. She’d always had a voracious appetite and truthfully, she should probably be grateful her metabolism seemed to keep her curvy, not round enough to roll faster than she could walk physique.

  When she had finally pushed her plate back, Meri looked up and grinned. “That was amazing, thank you. And I just want to say, your cooking lives up to every one of the reverent compliments Tobi and Gracie have given you.”

  She felt her cheeks heat under their watchful eyes and she was relieved when Ash finally spoke. “Thank you, pet. It was my pleasure, and just so you know, Master Dex is just as good in the kitchen despite what he might tell you. These other two,” he nodded his head toward Peter and Carl, “are more likely to take a woman to some sleazy bar for a burger and fries than they are to feed her properly. And then they wonder why she crashes on them before last call.” Meri couldn’t hold back her soft chuckle as the other two men groaned.

  “That’s just wrong, man. You’re going to give her the wrong impression about us,” Carl complained. “Don’t listen to them, Meri, we treat our dates right. We take them out on the town and let them chose their own fare instead of shoving vegetables at them and boring them with nutritional facts and figures. Can you imagine how dull that will be? Just keep that in mind, sweetie—you know, in case you come to your senses about these two.”

  She didn’t answer, choosing instead to simply nod to let him know she’d heard him. They wouldn’t let her help clear the table, insisting she gather anything she might need for their coming strategy session and then meet them in her dad’s study. When they turned their attention to the task of setting the kitchen to rights, she hurried out of the room hoping a bit of distance would give her time to organize her thoughts. Grabbing her favorite pen and Big Chief tablet, Meri settled into her usual chair tucking her legs beneath her and immediately felt a calm sense of familiarity settle over her.

  Yes, this was exactly where she needed to be, she was just about to get back up and get a glass of water when a tanned arm came from behind and settled onto the small table to her right. “Thanks,” she said without turning.

  She felt the soft press of Dex’s lips against her cheek, “You’re welcome, sweetness.” All four men were in the room, but she noted Carl and Peter had chosen to stay farther back, probably in hopes of lessening her distraction. “Now, tell us how to make this work for you. In order for us to protect you, we need your input. We’ll be asking you a lot of questions, so it’s important we make the whole process as easy and productive as possible.”

  Meri felt tears press at the back of her eyes at Dex’s sweet words. She appreciated the fact they were making such an effort to seek her input and let her help in the only way she knew how. She also needed a way to work through all the random thoughts bouncing around inside her head and brainstorming was her best bet. When things were happening that she couldn’t make sense of, the only way she’d ever been able to sort it through was to play a full-on game of verbal volleyball with her dad. Taking a deep breath, she tried to shift her mind away from the pain brought on by a sudden wave of loneliness.

  As Ash settled in her dad’s chair, she moved her chair back and encouraged the others to form a semi-circle facing him. Trying to find the door in her mind that let ideas flow, Meri doodled absently on the tablet paper that had always been her favorite. Schools might not use Big Chief tablets as often as they did in the past, but Meri was convinced she was playing a large part in their continued production.

  She felt a bit lost because she’d never had to take the lead before, her dad had always asked her a few questions in the beginning and then just let her run. The silence was starting to make her nervous when she felt something shift around her. Damn, she’d forgotten about Peter’s gift and when he leaned forward he grinned, “I’m sorry, Meri, but you just think incredibly loud.” His soft chuckle relaxed her and she felt her self-consciousness ease a bit. “How about this, I’ll ask you a couple of questions and we’ll see where it leads. Will that work for you?”

  “Yes, please. I just need someone to point me in the direction you want to go.” From the very first question, Meri felt
herself move into what she’d often referred to as “the zone”. Her mom had often teased her that she was like her dad in the way she could narrow her focus with pinpoint precision and completely focus on a task, particularly when it required her to think on several different levels at the same time. She enjoyed the process with these men because individually, she suspected they were all well above average in intelligence, but working together, they were something to behold. She’d often heard about the concept of synergy, but had rarely seen it more clearly exemplified.

  *****

  The minute he’d settled in her father’s massive office chair, Ash had seen a subtle change in Meri. It had been as though she had moved onto a familiar place, a well-practiced ritual that required a figure of authority in the chair in front of her. It really shouldn’t have surprised him, she was deeply submissive, after all, and most of the hardcore subs he’d met had been incredibly responsive to formal and predictable practices. He found it interesting that Meri’s submission wasn’t tied specifically to predictable sexual elements—hers was apparently much broader.