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

by Peyton Elizabeth

  “Trish?” Lashe noticed her change of mood, as did Sander if the tightening of his arms was any indication. “Talk to us.”

  “I–I’m just not used to you touching me like this.” Trish realized that her words might be misconstrued. “I mean, holding me like this. I–I’m just not used to—”

  Trish broke off what she was trying to say. If she said that she wasn’t used to being held by a man, it sounded as if she were an ice princess. The truth was, she’d only had one serious relationship and he hadn’t been the touchy-feely kind of guy. Didn’t Sander and Lashe want their release, too? They were holding her as if they were done for the evening, and she didn’t know how to react. A part of her wanted to touch them and continue what they’d been doing, but another part of her was still digesting what had happened.

  “Close your eyes, little minx,” Sander said, the deep vibrations of his voice having a calming effect even though she didn’t want it to.

  Trish did as he ordered, seeing the brown flecks in Lashe’s green eyes dull just a little. He knew there was more to what she was feeling than what she was saying. How could she admit that she had been wrong? It wasn’t in her nature, yet she hadn’t thought that this was in her nature either. Had Carrie been right all along when Trish had assumed she’d just been brainwashed? Was there more to BDSM than the stigma that society had placed on it? She knew that she’d sign tomorrow’s contract. Trish couldn’t prevent herself from wanting to find out what other things the Lifestyle entailed.

  Chapter Eight

  Another week had passed. Sander fiddled with the keys in his pocket as he stood inside of Nolan and Quentin’s residence, wanting this meeting to end. They, too, were on the board of the Order and had summoned a meeting in regards to Trish. Apparently, although Senator Shelton was not part of their organization for obvious reasons—mainly being solely out for himself—he had enough power to make certain members uneasy. Sander and Lashe made it known they had things under control. Their reputation and word went a long way and no one raised another question.

  “I appreciate you taking the time for this impromptu meeting and discussing the concerns of the other board members,” Nolan said, his black-rimmed stylish glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose. “I have no doubt that you have your sub under control.”

  “Let us set the record straight,” Sander said, speaking for him and his brother, “we don’t control what Trish does outside of the bedroom. Yes, when she was at Cunningham Publishing, we regulated what was put into print. But be aware that Trish is now a free agent, partly due to our pursuit of her in this manner. She’s intelligent enough not to publish anything that she hasn’t thoroughly researched. We support her career.”

  “Duly noted,” Nolan said, nodding his head in understanding.

  “We’ll see you next month at Lucas and Damian’s country house. The biannual meeting this year ought to be interesting considering that we need to fill Max’s position on the board. You were missed at the funeral.”

  “We were out of the country on business. I hear that Claire still hasn’t regained her sight. We’ve tried to reach out to her, but she’s refusing to take our calls.”

  Sander knew that when Nolan referred to we, he was implying the Order. It was a shame that they lost one of their own way too early, but fate was a fickle thing. He knew that Max and the Order had various trusts set up for their permanent submissives, so had no doubt that Claire was taken care of—at least financially. Her mental, emotional, and physical state was another.

  “I think we’ve kept her waiting long enough, don’t you?” Lashe asked. Sander knew that he was referring to Trish, who had secretly followed them to Nolan’s apartment building. It just so happened that she had no clue which one they were visiting and was waiting in a cab downstairs. It was a good thing, too, considering that was part of their contract with Kennedy. “It’s time that Trish learns about discipline and punishment.”

  “Agreed,” Sander said, knowing that they had taken this week slowly. Trish was now moved into his bedroom and they’d had nightly scenes, similar to the first. They had spent the time exploring her body and finding out what she liked and didn’t like. Although she’d seem eager for what they’d planned, Trish had also remained slightly distant since their first scene. Sander knew that needed to end as well and had no doubt that he would get to the bottom of her barriers when they punished her this evening for following them. “Nolan, always a pleasure.”

  Sander and Lashe turned and walked out the door. They remained silent until they were in the elevator on the way down to the lobby. The doors were mirrored, so Sander met his brother’s gaze.

  “Thoughts on tonight’s punishment?”

  “We go easier than we would on an experienced sub,” Lashe replied, crossing his arms and rocking back on the heels of his black dress shoes. “Not having access to the club limits our choices. We really need to start looking for a house out in the country…a place that will give us privacy along with a personal playroom. The apartment is just not big enough.”

  “Or soundproof enough,” Sander said, following up Lashe’s complaint. “I have the perfect ball gag for this evening. The ball is a shade of blue that’s stunning.”

  “We do have that black mat that folds up nicely for a spanking bench. It’s even equipped with straps.”

  Sander nodded, the scene coming together very nicely. “I think a personal touch is required for this punishment, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely,” Lashe said, smiling. “Did you know the stars are out tonight? I know it’s hard to witness them, with us living in the city, but I’m sure if given enough time to study the horizon, Trish might find a few.”

  Sander returned his smile, envisioning what was to take place in his bedroom. The black mat would fold up nicely on the padded vanity bench that was positioned outside of his closet. They could place that piece of furniture so that Trish was practically face to face with the window. She would know that the chances of people in the other apartment building straight across from them could witness her punishment should they choose to look out of their windows. He could almost guarantee that she would never follow them again with untold intentions.

  * * * *

  Trish watched as Sander and Lashe walked out of apartment building located on the opposite side of town. She’d overheard them mention the Order and knew—just knew—that they were meeting with some of the members. She couldn’t contain her curiosity and the minute they left their apartment, she’d run down the stairs. Trish had been smart though and only ran down one flight of stairs and then caught the elevator from there. She’d been able to flag down a cab and wait for them to exit the parking garage. The problem she had was that they arrived at another apartment building.

  “Sir, please head back,” Trish said, tapping on the window.

  Trish sat back in the seat and blew her bangs out of her eyes. She could find out who the tenants were, although that would take a few days. It was the narrowing down of names to those who had the requirements to be in the Order. If only she knew what those requirements were.

  A part of her felt guilty that she had followed them, but her journalist side said there was a story to be told. Did that make her a bad person? Trish bit her lip as the taxi traveled through the streets of Chicago. If this were about Sander and Lashe, would she oust them to the public? She knew that answer was no, and her guilt grew.

  This last week had proven to her that BDSM was just another version of kink and that Carrie was right in her convictions that the Lifestyle was a choice. Carrie had made mistakes starting out and Trish hoped like hell that her sister got the life she deserved. It was that part of herself that she was having trouble accepting.

  Everything they did to her this past week made her want the days to pass by quicker. Trish wanted evenings to come, so that she was at their mercy. She relished not having to think and be forced to feel. There hadn’t been one moment where she wanted to use her safe word.
She was getting a better understanding of the Lifestyle and wanted to explore more.

  She sighed, knowing that from this point on she would drop her investigation into the Senator. He deserved to live his life in private and now fully understood why Heidi had reacted the way she did. Trish had done it herself a week ago, and a few times during the week. As for the Order, didn’t they deserve their privacy as well? The thought of another journalist exposing Sander and Lashe made her angry, for she knew they were good men. It looked like she would be searching for another job or finding another story for which to write on an outsourced basis.

  “Ma’am? We’re here.”

  Trish looked up and noticed her surroundings. It must have taken fifteen minutes for the driver to navigate through the evening traffic, but she’d been too busy caught up in her thoughts to notice. She reached into her bag and pulled out some money. After handing it to the driver through the window, Trish hopped out and started walking toward the entrance of Sander and Lashe’s apartment building. She wanted to take a shower before their scene this evening and smiled, surprising herself that she was looking forward to being surprised.

  “Welcome home.”

  Trish gasped and stopped dead in her tracks on the sidewalk. Sander and Lashe were standing by the door, where the doorman was waiting. They both had frowns on their faces, and for a moment, Trish feared that they knew where she had been. Immediately, reality settled over her and she realized that would be impossible. They probably just thought she was back at work on her investigation of the Senator.

  “Hi,” Trish said, remembering that they were in public and she didn’t need to use their titles. As a matter of fact, this past week they allowed her to only use their designations during scenes. An uneasy feeling started to settle in her stomach when they didn’t respond. “Um, did you two eat dinner yet?”

  “No,” Sander replied, his hands in his pockets.

  “Have you?” Lashe asked, almost as if he already knew the answer.

  She glanced around her, looking for their vehicle. Sander had driven, as she’d seen them come out of the parking garage, but it would have been impossible for them to have beat her home…let alone park and walk to the outer entrance. Why did Lashe have a gleam to his eyes? His brown flecks seemed to be dancing.

  “No, um, I didn’t have time. Should we—”

  “It’s relatively late to be working,” Lashe said, rocking back on his heels.

  “I’m a journalist,” Trish replied with a small smile, trying to cut the obvious tension. She just wished she knew why it was there. “We don’t keep normal hours.”

  “Where were you?”

  The question came from Sander. His tone indicated what she feared. How the hell had they known she had followed them? It wasn’t like she owned a vehicle and the streets were filled with taxis, so having one behind them shouldn’t have set off any red flags. How did they know?

  “I was, uh, researching something.” Trish had been going to say she’d been somewhere else, but she couldn’t bring herself to outright lie to them. They’d never questioned her on her whereabouts before now. “It didn’t pan out.”

  “Did we not give you enough time to follow us up to the apartment we visited?”

  Trish now felt as if a cement block was sitting in her stomach. The disappointment in their eyes was evident, and she felt remorse for her spontaneous decision to follow them. Hearing the displeasure in their voice was worse. They were still standing in the middle of the street and people were navigating around them. She really didn’t feel like groveling at their feet in public.

  “I’d rather explain my actions upstairs.”

  “And why should we allow you back into our apartment?” Sander asked, seemingly not caring that the street was getting more crowded. “Have you not obtained enough information about this so-called organization you keep talking about?”

  “Sander, it’s not how it looks,” Trish replied, unable to keep the slight desperation out of her voice. Would they really just end things here? She knew that submissives had a safe word for a reason, but were Dominants allowed to call a halt to things with just one word? She was being a hypocrite, but at this moment she didn’t care. The thought of losing them—that thought brought everything to a halt. She was falling for them. She was falling for their Lifestyle. This wasn’t about an article anymore. “I mean, I did follow you, and yes, for the reason you said, but—”

  Trish was making the situation worse, but she didn’t know how to fully explain in detail that she’d changed her mind while they were outside on a busy sidewalk. She took a step toward them and because Lashe was closest to her, placed her hand on his arm. He didn’t uncross them, but instead stood there staring down at her.

  “Please hear me out. I–I’m dropping the article,” Trish said, her voice lowering. “I know that my actions say otherwise, but—”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say why with so many strangers milling about. Trish turned her head, making eye contact with Sander. His gaze hadn’t softened and neither had his stance. Were they just going to give up on her just like that? Much to her surprise, he slid his right hand out of his pocket and extended it.

  “We’ll discuss this matter in private, but know with every floor that elevator passes, there will be consequences for your actions. Your work is your work, but you crossed the line when you followed us on private matters and tried to invade our privacy.”

  Trish’s fingers tightened on Lashe’s arm involuntarily. By consequences, was he referring to something like a whipping? Images of them doing what Senator Shelton had done to his submissive with a cane immediately came to mind. She wasn’t ready for that kind of—

  “Trish, look at me,” Lashe said, finally moving his arms and closing the distance between them. Even though the evening was warm, she could still feel the heat come off his body. He took her face in one hand and used his fingers on the other to gently brush her bangs away. “There will be consequences, just as Sander said, but nothing that we think you can’t handle. You’ve trusted us this far, you need to do so now.”

  Trish slowly let the air out of her lungs, letting his words comfort her. Lashe was right and there was nothing they had done to her that warranted her distrust. They couldn’t say the same about her, considering that what she’d done today might have broken their faith in her. She needed to explain to them what decision she’d come to in relation to the Senator as well as the Order. Before she could tell them, she heard her name being called.

  “Trish!”

  It couldn’t be, she thought. Trish jerked out of Lashe’s arms and turned to see Carrie a few steps away from Sander. It was her sister, she thought in shock. Trish couldn’t remember the last time Carrie had left their small hometown. It had to be well before the incident. Regardless of the warm temperature, Carrie wore a scarf around her head, tied underneath her chin, along with large sunglasses.

  “Carrie,” Trish said, the astonishment evident in her voice, “what are you doing here? Do Mom and Dad know you’re here?”

  “Don’t make it sound like I’m some type of hermit,” Carrie replied, coming to a stop beside Sander. Trish couldn’t bring herself to look at them. How was she going to introduce them to her sister when they had things unresolved between them? “Yes, Mom and Dad know I’m here. And no, they don’t know the reason. You haven’t returned my calls, and after a week, I decided I better make sure that you weren’t doing something stupid. From the looks of them, I can now see why you didn’t call. Stupidity doesn’t run in the family.”

  Trish’s face flushed. She darted a glance toward Sander, who was actually smiling. Really? Her sister cracks some lame joke and he smiles? Trish glanced over her shoulder at where Lashe was now standing and noticed his matching grin. Well, they wouldn’t be smiling for long. Trish gave a resigning sigh and knew she had no choice to invite her sister up to the apartment. She hadn’t been ready to reveal what had happened to her sister, but evidently, fate had other ideas.<
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  Trish watched her sister closely as she started for the entrance to the apartment building. Her heart constricted when she thought of what her sister was feeling right now, being so out in the open when she usually kept to herself. Guilt ate at her for not returning Carrie’s calls. Trish was the reason she was here, battling through her fear of public places. On top of that, Carrie had to know that Lashe and Sander would want to know her story. Her conscience weighed in on itself, realizing just how intrusive she had been with her sister. Trish was batting a thousand today and obviously one for the books.

  Chapter Nine

  Lashe closed the door, turning to see that everyone was making themselves comfortable in the living room. This was not how Sander and he had planned the evening, but sometimes things happened for a reason. Who were they to question it? Kennedy and James were well aware of an incident that had occurred in Trish’s past and considering they were relatively sure it had to do with her sister, this visit couldn’t have come at a better time.

  “Can we get you something to drink, Carrie?” Lashe asked. Introductions had been somewhat brief, as they had made their way into the apartment building. Carrie had given Trish a quick summary of how things were going on back home in the elevator, while Lashe and Sander had listened intently. The strain in Trish’s voice was evident, although Lashe wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Carrie seemed like a wonderful, caring sister. “Water, soda, maybe some wine?”

  “No, thank you,” Carrie replied, softly. She’d yet to take the scarf off, but did slip her sunglasses down her nose and fold them up. She placed them in her purse and took a seat on the couch. She was relatively the same height as Trish, and from the hair draped down her back, escaping the material, she had the same color hair. Her body stature was a little sturdier, with her breasts having more cleavage. “As I said, I drove down and would have been heading back by now if I’d been able to locate Trish. She wouldn’t answer her phone.”