Dare to Submit [Safeword LLC 2] (Siren Publishing Sensations)

by Peyton Elizabeth

  Harrison walked up the steps slowly, holding out his hand. Elena quizzically looked down at his black glove. Grant stood beside him, doing the same. Hesitantly, she dropped her clutch purse on the door jam and slipped her fingers into their gloved palms. She wore a long, cream, woolen dress coat, with matching silk gloves and scarf. Underneath, her body was encased in a dark-brown sweaterdress. It had a unique front with oversized buttons keeping the material secured around her. She had a feeling they chose the dress for its easy access to her body. Her matching high-heeled boots hugged her calves all the way up to her knees, complementing the outfit.

  They led her to the top of the steps, directly under one of the lights. Grant and Harrison turned and walked down the three steps to stand at the bottom. Turning to face her, Elena was captivated by their intense stares. She was hoping that whatever they had planned, the heat from their gaze kept her warm.

  “Remove your coat,” Harrison ordered, crossing his arms as if he planned to be here for a while.

  Elena untied the sash around her waist and wondered how long they intended for her to be out in the cold. They really wouldn’t have her remove her dress in this weather, would they? Removing her coat was bad enough. Finally getting the belt undone, she let the lapels fall open. Using her gloved hands, Elena pulled the heavy material off of her shoulders and let the coat drop to the ground. She couldn’t prevent a shiver as the cold wind blew through the knitted material.

  “Now your dress,” Grant said, taking a stance similar to Harrison.

  Elena knew her eyes widened at his statement, unbelieving that they would have her undress out here in the cold. Had they lost their minds? The memory of her first night here and their discussion regarding trust ran through her mind. She might not yet have conquered her key fear, but she knew one thing. If any other man had attempted what they had, she would have used her safe word by now. They’d held her hand, led her through each scene, and never steered her wrong. Yes, she did trust them, and she would trust them now.

  Elena reached for the large buttons and one by one, threaded them through their holes. As with her coat, she parted the front and pushed the material over her shoulders, letting it fall on top of her jacket. She bit her lip as the cold wind circled her body. The only thing she’d been wearing underneath her dress were her special nipples clamps and clit clamp, attached with the brilliant brown diamonds embedded in the links of the thin chain. It seemed as if the wind knew exactly what Harrison and Grant required, as the icy air did a superlative job of cooling the metal. Elena had to wonder how they knew she would respond to such a display.

  Though the cold was seeping through her skin, standing before them bare with flurries swirling around her excited her beyond imagination. Her nipples throbbed while her clit pounded in rhythm with her heart. She could swear her juices were freezing to her inner thigh, yet couldn’t prevent more from escaping her pussy. Harrison was about to give her another order when headlights appeared down the drive, shining through the gate.

  It was all Elena could do not to snatch her clothes and cover herself, but then thought better of it. They would tell her when she could dress. For all she knew, they had invited someone here this evening. Elena wasn’t too sure how she felt about that, but felt relief when Grant sprinted up the steps.

  “We aren’t expecting company,” Grant said, reaching down and picking up her clothes. Instead of helping her put her dress on, he held her coat open. She slipped her arms inside and savored the heat as the material captured the small amount. “I was enjoying this. We’ll have to continue this at a later time.”

  Elena loved how his hazel eyes seemed to sparkle, as if they were part of the snow falling around them. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and rubbing his hands up and down her sleeves. She relished the tenderness and buried her face into the lapel of his dress coat. Grant looked over her head as the front door opened behind him.

  “Sir, a Mr. Calihan is here to see you.”

  Elena tensed and then chided herself. Grant had to have felt her reaction. She didn’t want him to think that she was afraid or wary of James, but she couldn’t help but wonder what brought him here on Christmas night. Did the man never stop working? She told herself there was no way he had found out the truth.

  “Let him in,” Harrison answered, still standing at the bottom of the steps. “Elena, why don’t you go in and get ready for bed. We’ll be in shortly.”

  One of the benefits of having consummated their relationship was that they now slept together in Harrison’s room. His bed was big enough for the three of them and it was nice to fall asleep in the security of their arms. She wasn’t feeling very secure now, though. Her professional demeanor wanted to demand that she stay to hear what James had to say. Why would he interrupt their holiday if it weren’t something important? It obviously involved her, or was she getting paranoid? Harrison and Grant had spoken of some company takeover their friends were initiating, and she remembered that it somehow involved Kenney’s friend. Maybe it was something as simple as that. Elena’s intuition was telling her something else and she didn’t like the uncertainty.

  “Elena? Do I need to repeat myself?”

  “No, Sir,” Elena whispered, pulling away from the warmth of Grant’s embrace. She stepped away and suddenly felt very cold—and it had nothing to do with the weather.

  * * * *

  “She knows,” Grant said, confirming that the door had shut behind Elena as she entered the house.

  “No, she doesn’t,” Harrison replied. “She suspects. There’s a difference. We’ll see what James has turned up, before deciding on how to proceed.”

  Kennedy had given James all the information they had managed to obtain, along with the odd conversation that Elena had had with her father. James had called a few times since that night, asking specific questions, but none that they knew the answers to. Grant was positive that Judge Collins knew more about Adam Nichols’s relationship with his daughter than they did. He hoped like hell that James had been able to find out more details.

  They stood at the bottom of the steps and watched as James drove his Land Cruiser down the drive and circled around to pull to a stop before them. James turning off the engine foretold that this wasn’t going to be a short conversation. He exited his vehicle, not bothering with a coat. His rumpled suit suggested he’d been up early and had been running all day. Grant had to wonder what kind of information James would have been able to find out on Christmas day.

  “Gentlemen. I apologize for stopping by on a holiday, but you did say you wanted any information I found to be relayed immediately. I didn’t think my report should be given over the phone.”

  Grant shared a look with Harrison, and suddenly, the relaxed and cheerful holiday made a serious turn. They shook hands with James, with Harrison telling him that his impromptu visit was fine. All three men entered the house and made themselves comfortable in Harrison’s office.

  “Drink?” Grant asked, walking to the built-in bar located along the side of the room.

  “No, thanks,” James replied, his voice gruff. “I never drink while on a case.”

  Grant poured both himself and Harrison two fingers’ worth of twenty-five-year-old single malt scotch. He always thought of James as either a retired linebacker or a heavyweight boxer. The scars on his hands indicated he was physical, and the sound of his voice signified he’d somehow damaged his vocal cords at some point. He shaved his head, although usually walked around with a five-o’clock shadow. Kennedy mentioned a military past, but James pretty much kept to himself. Whatever he’d done in his past, James Calihan was damned good at his job.

  “What have you found out?” Harrison asked as he took a seat behind his desk. Grant walked back with the drinks, handing one to Harrison before sitting beside James in the two chairs located in front of the desk. “It must be damn important if you’re working on a holiday.”

  “I’ve taken the Judge Collins angle and think I finally hit the
jackpot. He had an assistant during the time that Elena was presumably seeing Adam Nichols. It took me a while to track her down, as she moved out to Georgetown. She returned my call this afternoon. She states that the judge had kept tabs on his daughter and when it was leaked that she’d filled out an application to join the Chamber—that club has a fairly shabby reputation by the way—he wasn’t happy. He apparently was able to get it revoked before she ever set foot in there on a regular club night.”

  “I can understand why he’d do something like that,” Harrison said, picking up his glass. “Anything on Nichols?”

  “That was the interesting part of the conversation. From what she told me, Elena met Nichols through the same friends that referred her to the club. She’d been with some acquaintances, because I wouldn’t call them friends. It was some girls from her college, out celebrating their graduation. Since she couldn’t play at the Chamber, it’s rumored that she and Nichols started seeing each other privately.”

  “And with her lack of close friends, this didn’t turn up in her background check,” Grant said, going on the assumption they were all thinking. “What about Nichols? Wouldn’t he have told his circle who he was seeing on the side?”

  “He wanted to protect her. When Elena explained who her father was and the steps he’d taken to interfere with her life, Nichols agreed to keep things quiet for her sake.”

  “So they played together privately and kept their emotions a secret.” Harrison took a swig of scotch. “How does this woman know the facts?”

  “As I said, the judge kept tabs on his daughter—only he did it through a private investigator. I’m not sure Elena was ever aware of it.”

  “Is he now?” Grant asked, acid turning his stomach at the thought that Collins was having his daughter followed.

  “No. My source told me that one day the judge came in and ordered her to release the investigator from his duties.”

  “Any idea why?” Harrison asked.

  “Yes.”

  By James’s tone, Grant knew that what they were about to find out wasn’t good. If he had the power to stop time, leaving them in this moment not knowing the truth, Grant might have been tempted to do just that. Elena trusted them and day by day, their relationship grew stronger. He had a feeling that whatever was about to be revealed could ruin all that they’d worked for.

  “Just spit it out,” Harrison said, downing the rest of his drink.

  “Nichols came by the office one evening while my source was working late. He had a meeting with the judge. Their voices were raised and she overheard Nichols admitting that he and Elena had an intimate relationship. The judge accused him of abusing his daughter, saying that he saw her that night. He saw the blood and if it was the last thing the judge did, it would be to ensure that Nichols wasn’t walking away from this alive.”

  “She wasn’t abused,” Harrison said, arguing that point.

  “Are you telling us that Judge Collins killed Adam Nichols?” Grant asked, astonished that her father would go to such extremes. Yet, wouldn’t Grant have killed the man with his bare hands, had Nichols been standing in front of him? “My God, do you know what that would do to Elena?”

  Grant couldn’t sit any longer, as anger ran through his veins. He stood up and started pacing behind the chairs, trying to get rid of some of this raging emotion. The sweater he was wearing was suddenly suffocating him, so Grant peeled it off, leaving on his white T-shirt. Even then, he couldn’t seem to draw enough air in.

  “I’m not saying she was abused or that the judge sought revenge. I’m just stating facts.”

  “There are scars on her back, but Elena claims it was an accident. I believe her,” Harrison declared. “But whatever did happen to her that night obviously still affects her.”

  “She’s lasted longer under your hands than I would have thought,” James replied.

  “So where do we go from here?” Grant felt himself calm down slightly, at least long enough that he was able to walk across the room and refill his glass.

  “I quietly make some phone calls and look into the investigation of Nichols’s death. If he was murdered, I’ll find out, regardless of how the case was closed. Does the judge have enough power to have had a case labeled an accident when it wasn’t? Of course he does. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t simply a car accident, either.”

  Grant took his seat, while the three of them sat quietly, contemplating the information that James had discovered. He knew that Elena was now lying naked in their bed, waiting for them. She’d be waiting a while, because Grant knew that he and Harrison had a lot to discuss. He finished off his second drink.

  “I’ll see myself out,” James said, standing up and shaking their hands. “I’ll be in touch. It might take me a couple of weeks, depending on my initial findings of the car accident.”

  “We appreciate it, James,” Harrison replied.

  They watched as Calihan left, closing the door behind him. Grant settled back in his seat, looking over the desk at his best friend. Harrison didn’t seem as pensive as he did, making Grant wonder what was spinning around in his head. He didn’t have long to wait.

  “The biannual meeting with the Order is taking place on New Year’s Eve.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Grant replied. “At the last get-together, Chad Westworth and Alec Brewer were asked to join. The board initiates them next week. What does that have to do with Elena?”

  “We’re going to request the floor.”

  “What?” Grant was already shaking his head, not liking where Harrison was taking this. He formed a question in his mind, already knowing the answer, but needing it said aloud. “What kind of scene?”

  “A whipping scene, of course.”

  “No.”

  “Grant, you know that it’s the only way.”

  “Then do it here. We have a dungeon, for fuck’s sake. Use it.”

  “She’ll be less likely to use her safe word if she knows she’s the focus. Two weeks after, our contract will be up. You and I both know she’s crawled underneath our skin. We’re falling for her, just like your family is. Just like mine will. She’ll be a servant of the Order, as our submissive, if we make her our permanent third. It’s the perfect time.”

  “And if she panics?” Grant asked, not liking a scenario where he couldn’t control the outcome. “Are you willing to risk our future together on this?”

  “Damn it, Grant! We have no choice, and you know it. She’s not going to know what type of scene it is until we get there. It’s time we peel away her last barrier.”

  Grant knew his friend was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. If they did the scene here, she’d probably take the easy way out. By doing it in front of the Order, they might possibly be able to go farther in the scene, giving them a chance to talk her through whatever was holding her back. To know that it might cause her to walk away in the end was torture.

  “Set it up.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Elena entered the grand ballroom, glad for the diversion of her thoughts. The entire day had been spent with her nerves fraught over their upcoming scene. Why would Harrison and Grant have offered her as the main scene for this evening, when she wasn’t technically their permanent submissive? She’d wanted to ask if this was against the Order’s rules, but then thought better of it. She probably wouldn’t have gotten a straight answer anyway, considering the inner workings of the Order weren’t revealed to servants regardless. She was still taken aback that they revealed their membership.

  “It can be overwhelming, can’t it?” Grant asked, standing beside her in a tuxedo, with a black mask situated over the top half of his face. She knew he wasn’t talking about her feelings regarding their scene. He was referring to the display before her. “Remember, you are not to speak unless spoken to. You are permitted to look around, but do not make direct eye contact with any member. The Order is rather particular about the behavior of their submissives.”

 
; “May I ask you questions, Master Grant?”

  The music was low enough that they could hear each other without difficulty. She wasn’t sure of the genre, but it added a sultry aura to the intimate setting. Elena would have thought there would be hundreds in attendance, yet there were probably only about sixty members present.

  “Yes, for the time being. I will let you know when you are to be silent.”

  “Thank you, Master.”

  Elena brought her hand up, making sure that her gold mask was in place. The glittered feathers attached to the sides made for an elegant piece, considering it was the only thing she’d been permitted to wear, besides her matching collar. Grant held her gold leash in his hand. Her naked form didn’t feel quite so bare with her face hidden. It made it easy to make out the subs, for they were all naked. What surprised her the most was that there were male subs in attendance as well. She hadn’t been aware that the Order permitted Dommes. For some reason, she thought it to be old-fashioned and a man’s world.

  Upon entering, Harrison immediately left their side to speak with someone regarding their area of play and to hand over his bag. She hadn’t been privy to what he brought. She could see the spot from here, though—a large square stage with what looked like red velvet draped over a high platform. It also had a red rope hanging from four gold posts, keeping bystanders from entering the area. In the center stood a black padded St. Andrew’s cross, waiting for her.

  The lighting in the ballroom was dim as she looked around, trying to take in everything at once. The space wasn’t wide open, as she would have thought it to be. Instead, there were numerous sitting areas with various forms of furniture scattered about. Some areas were occupied already, and much to her surprise, being used in a most wicked way. Guests were openly having diverse sexual relations, whereas others were having conversations as if nothing was happening out of the ordinary.