The First Order [Safeword LLC 1] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Read online

  Upon returning to her apartment Friday night, Becca had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning on the Internet. Whatever she thought she’d find in regards to Safeword LLC, Becca had never imagined it would be in relationship to BDSM. The company was a placement agency for submissive women wanting to find that perfect Dominant—although in this case, to discover the ideal Dominants. Safeword specialized in ménages, where the men shared the woman. Becca had only ever read about them, but had never envisioned them in reality. When she did, Becca found her body reacted in a way she hadn’t expected—as if it had been lit on fire.

  Was she the type of woman who could handle two men, in and out of bed? What did that type of relationship entail on an emotional level? Becca found herself just as fascinated with the workings of a ménage as she did the aspects of BDSM. What did that say about her as a woman?

  Catching a few hours of sleep, Becca had awakened knowing that she would go to the agency to seek out more information. That response didn’t last long. After examining each tab on the site, Becca became hesitant. There was a vast difference between wanting to be tied up during sex and BDSM. She’d tried to familiarize herself with the terms, the protocol, the implements, and the lifestyle. Throw in two men she didn’t know, and it was overwhelming. But it was all she could think about.

  “Ma’am? Going up?”

  Becca was jolted back to the present by the deep voice. What surprised her even more was whom the voice belonged to. It was the chauffeur that had assisted Kennedy Van Camp on Friday evening. He looked a little rough around the edges and she could see when he reached out to press the button that he was carrying a pistol under his blazer. A feeling of uneasiness shot through her. Did a driver really need to be armed, even in the city? His right hand was scarred, and the sight caused Becca to glance down at his left. The skin there, too, was damaged and she couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t wear a wedding ring.

  “Um, yes, please,” Becca said before she saw his reflection in the exterior mirrored doors. For a second, she thought she saw a smirk on his rugged face, but Becca dismissed that. He didn’t know her or why she was here. “Thank you.”

  The dinging of the elevator alerted her that the doors were about to open. After the people exited, the driver extended his hand to indicate she should proceed before him. Becca gave a small smile of thanks. Once they were both on and he had made sure that no one else was going up with them, he pressed thirty-three and then stood back without asking her for her floor.

  Oh, my God, Becca thought. No wonder he had grinned. He knew what she was here for. Becca knew her face had flushed in mortification and kept her eyes focused on the changing lights on the bar above the door indicating which floor they were passing. Kennedy must have pointed her out Friday night.

  By Sunday, Becca’s body hadn’t been sure how to respond. At night, she had dreamed of two men tying her up with that red sash on the business card. They would caress her body, touch her in a way that she only ever fantasized about, and give her an orgasm that left her exhausted. But she knew now that that wasn’t all that was going to happen. There were elements to BDSM that Becca wasn’t sure she would like. And what then? A few sites of reference spoke of serving a Master, pleasing him in his desires—even in pain. Becca wasn’t good with pain, but couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to want to please someone regardless.

  Sunday evening, Becca had filled out the application on the company website. It wasn’t exactly as she had foreseen, as there were questions that stumped her. The list was extensive. What were her preferences in men? There were several choices ranging from a gentle Dominant to a Sadist. Becca thought it would be safer to pick somewhere in the middle. Then came questions regarding what she desired in a partner, from the emotional to the physical.

  Becca started sailing through the questions until the form required answers regarding sex. What was her experience with BDSM? What was her pain tolerance? What were her soft and hard limits? Becca, of course, had to look up exactly what the application was referring to. The limits she discovered were a tad bit frightening, although at the same time, had her heart racing, her breathing uneven, and her hands shaking. After having two glasses of wine and a lot of unsure answers, Becca was able to hit the submit button.

  Ding.

  Becca’s heart skipped a beat. The doors slid open to reveal an elegant and tasteful foyer that included wood in various shades of deep red, lush cream carpet, and a well-designed logo of Safeword LLC above the receptionist area. Becca swallowed around the lump in her throat and fought back the urge to cough. The chauffeur, again, extended his arm for her to be the first to exit the elevator. If he hadn’t been there, Becca was relatively sure she would have hit the button that closed the doors and taken her down to where she’d left her sanity.

  “After you, ma’am.”

  Becca couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to. Taking a few faltering steps, she made her way to a young woman sitting behind the wooden counter. Becca wasn’t sure what she was expecting, although images of a woman in chains came to mind, but the girl couldn’t have been more than twenty-three years old. She had black hair that was pulled back at the nape of her neck, revealing a beautiful gold choker with a diamond in the center. She wasn’t thin, but wasn’t overweight. She was dressed in a short black skirt, with a red blouse that hugged her in a way that said she was proud of her body.

  “Jenny, when you’re finished seeing that Ms. Schuler is situated, would you please bring me the Taylor file?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  If Becca thought she was flushed before, she knew for a fact that now there wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t have color. He had known who she was the entire time, even her name. How was that possible? If he was requesting a file, the man couldn’t be a chauffeur. What exactly was his position at the company?

  The man continued his way down the hall on the right. Becca saw that there were several doors located on either side of the hallway and watched as he used a key to open the door on the left. A key? Why would he keep his office door locked?

  “Ms. Schuler? I’m Jenny Rose. Ms. Van Camp is expecting you. Would you like a cup of coffee before I take you into her office?”

  “Um, no, thank you,” Becca replied, shaking her head. She knew that to hold a cup of hot liquid at this point would only end in disaster. The cream carpet didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of her nerves. “Who is that man?”

  “Mr. Calihan. He’s our chief security officer. Ms. Van Camp will introduce you to him toward the end of your appointment, as he is a vital part of your placement.”

  “Why?” Becca didn’t mean to blurt out the question like that, but her anxiety was rising at an alarming rate.

  Jenny smiled and came around the desk. “Please follow me. Ms. Van Camp will explain everything. And there’s no need to be nervous. We’ll do our best to make sure you are placed with the ideal men.”

  “How, exactly, does that work?” Becca asked in a low voice as she followed Jenny down the same hall as the man. His door was closed now, as well as the two doors on the right.

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” Jenny replied, her fingers caressing the choker around her neck. “If it eases your mind, I was one of the first clients and don’t regret coming to Safeword for placement. It was the best decision I ever made.”

  Becca thought back to her research and wondered if Jenny’s jewelry had anything to do with the collars she’d seen on the web. If so, her necklace didn’t look anything like the ones Becca had seen. After hearing what Jenny had to say and from the way she was stroking the gold, Becca was relatively sure it did have to do with BDSM. She didn’t get a chance to ask, though, as the short walk to the office door at the end of the hall went by way too fast.

  Jenny gave a light knock and waited. Kennedy Van Camp’s voice rang out for them to enter and Jenny opened the door. The office was just as stylish as the front foyer, although with added artwork that supplied spl
ashes of color along with a rectangular mirror on the left side of the room. Becca looked a little closer and realized the pictures held images similar to the one on her business card. One was of a woman’s ankles wrapped in leather cuffs, while another was of a man’s hands holding what seemed to be a cane. Becca’s ass clenched at the thought of an implement such as that being wielded on her skin. She scrambled to remember what she’d put as her pain tolerance.

  “Ms. Schuler. Welcome.”

  Becca tore her gaze away from the pictures to see Kennedy Van Camp coming out from behind her desk. She was dressed very similarly to the way she was on Friday night, although this time her suit was a navy blue. Her auburn hair was still pulled back in a severe style and her red lips were flawless. Becca felt a little plain in her white sundress that flowed around her knees.

  “I’m very pleased to see that you filled an application out over the weekend. And with your medical release, we were able to verify that your physical well-being is acceptable. You took a major step in obtaining what you want out of life. I look forward to fulfilling your needs and those of your Dominants.”

  Chapter Three

  Lane Ellison stood beside his brother, Ross, looking through the two-way mirror. Physically, the woman who stepped into Kennedy’s office was exactly who they were looking for. She stood inside the doorway and tilted her chin slightly as if she were about to do battle. Her hair fell off of her shoulders with the small movement, drawing attention to her shoulder. He bet she would mark beautifully with his favorite flogger. Now it was time to see if she measured up mentally and emotionally.

  “She’s beautiful,” Ross said, leaning up against the frame of the window with his shoulder. “Look at those curves. And her cleavage is cradled perfectly in the V of her sundress.”

  “Do you see her hand on the strap of her purse?” Lane asked. “Her knuckles are white.”

  “Kennedy will ensure that this is what Ms. Schuler wants,” James Calihan said upon his entrance into the room. Lane didn’t bother to look at Kennedy’s security chief, not wanting to tear his eyes away from Rebecca Schuler. “Boss lady is very adept at reading people—their wants and needs.”

  Lane finally put a finger on what had been bugging the shit out of him. He’d seen firsthand how adept Kennedy was in placing subs with the right Dominant, but his question was—how? What made her think that after their years of searching for the right woman, Kennedy could hand her over to them on a silver platter?

  “What’s your take on her?” Ross asked.

  “A quick check into her background after she signed the waiver attached to her application shows Rebecca Schuler is pretty much who she says she is.” James leaned his hip up against the table that was in the center of the room and crossed his arms as he continued to run down the facts. “She’s thirty-one, five foot three, and one hundred and twenty-nine pounds. Ms. Schuler has only a few college credits, although she has held a job since high school. She managed to land a claims position at an insurance company five years ago, but as of Friday, that division was shut down and she is currently out of a job. Her parents live in Indiana, and she has no siblings, although she is very close to a one Lily Forrest, currently on her honeymoon in Italy. Ms. Schuler’s longest steady relationship was with a David Glenn, and that ended seven months ago when she found that he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

  “So those are the highlights,” Lane said, watching as Kennedy offered her a chair. Kennedy walked around her desk and waited for Rebecca to take a seat before sitting herself. “What I want to know is why Kennedy thinks Rebecca Schuler is the submissive for us.”

  Lane and Ross owned a hedge fund headquartered in the heart of Chicago. Being in the financial field with an economy that teetered like a child’s seesaw, he and his brother had proven their worth to their clients by bringing in big returns on their investments. They had spent years building their reputation as solid portfolio managers, all the while collecting favors from prominent people and developing friendships that were based on loyalty and trust. He and Ross were in their midthirties and had more money than Midas along with a history of unfulfilled relationships. Lane and Ross both knew they were insatiable men, and they wanted more. They desired a woman they could prize as well as share.

  “Listen for yourself,” James said, going to the other side of the window and flipping a switch that would allow them to hear the conversation that Kennedy was having with Rebecca. “It’s always better to get the information from the source. This way, if you don’t feel that she will suit your collective needs, Kennedy will be able to match her wants and needs to another set of Doms.”

  Her voice drifted through the speakers. It wasn’t loud or obnoxious, but more like honey trailing down the bark of a tree. It was smooth and sultry with a touch of naiveté. Rebecca’s hair was strawberry blonde and fell a little below her shoulders. Natural waves were woven into the strands. Lane could tell even from here that her eyes were green. The sundress hid most of her legs, but Rebecca’s calves were tight and tapered sensually to her slender ankles that were wrapped in the straps of her white sandals. Kennedy started off the conversation with a basic rundown of her company, which Rebecca was sure to have already read on the website.

  Safeword LLC had been one of Lane and Ross’s first clients when they opened their doors. A safe, sane, and consensual relationship in the BDSM lifestyle was the company’s goal, as was placing the right submissive with the Dominants that could give her what she needed. Lane and Ross had lived the lifestyle for years, but had never mixed business with pleasure. It wasn’t until recently that they realized that what they were searching for wasn’t going to be found at the exclusive clubs they frequented.

  “Rebecca, I gave you my business card for a reason and now you’ve had the weekend to think about what Safeword can offer you. I need to ask you a question before this interview proceeds. Why did you fill out our application?”

  Lane closed the distance to where Ross stood. Standing side by side, they listened as this beauty struggled with her words. He looked closely at her chest, seeing that her breathing was uneven. Her hands were clutching the purse that sat in her lap. And even though she must have been nervous as hell entering into the unknown, the little sub had the courage to answer Kennedy’s question.

  “Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve had these fantasies of—well, being tied down. In order for me to have an, um, an o–orgasm, I n–need to picture that in my head.” Rebecca looked down at her hands, which were white from the pressure of her grip. “My last boyfriend called me depraved and—wait a second.” Rebecca lifted her head and looked across the desk at Kennedy. “Why did you give me your business card?”

  “Because you, my dear, are not depraved. There are many, many women out there with your desires who have no idea how to go about finding a man to give them what they need.”

  “But I don’t like pain,” Rebecca said in protest, leaning forward just a bit in her chair. “I clicked on the links that were on your website and I didn’t find one that excluded pain.”

  Kennedy chuckled and then leaned back in her chair. “Rebecca, each relationship in BDSM is different. What is right for one person may not be right for another. Are there sadists and masochists? Absolutely, as well as many degrees in between. But that is why we have limits.”

  “So I can request no pain?”

  “Let me ask you a few questions before I answer that question, Rebecca. Have you ever experienced anything outside the realm of vanilla sex?”

  “Um, no. I’ve tried different positions, though.”

  “Have you had anal sex?” Kennedy asked, picking up a pencil.

  “No,” Rebecca answered, shifting in her seat.

  Kennedy made a check on the paper in front of her. “Have you ever experimented with nipple clamps, clit clamps, paddles, whips, floggers, straps, or canes?”

  “N–no.” Rebecca was staring at the paper in Kennedy’s hand, but then looked back up. She straightened
her back. “I answered those on the application.”

  “Yes, but it is my job to verify your information, Rebecca.”

  Lane smiled. So far, Rebecca’s actions were parallel to his and Ross’s needs. When she was hesitant, Rebecca severed eye contact. If she felt confident or bold in her thoughts or actions, eye contact was reconnected. They didn’t want someone experienced, already trained by another Master. Lane and Ross wanted to mold a woman to their likes, wants, and desires. Most importantly, they didn’t want a mindless woman who didn’t have a will of her own. They needed a promising novice they could lead in the discovery of her submissive self. She needed to have spirit as well as passion.

  “What about exhibition?”

  “Exhibition? I thought I was going to be with two specific men, not passed around. Look, maybe this was a mistake. I—”

  “Close your eyes, Rebecca.” Kennedy had hardened her tone. Lane and Ross knew that to possess that feature, one was usually a Dom or Domme, but they had yet to figure out what Kennedy’s deal was. She didn’t speak of her personal life. Hell, maybe she was a switch. “Now.”

  Rebecca didn’t hesitate, a sure sign of her true nature. Ross shot Lane a look and returned his smile. Kennedy knew exactly how to lead an interview so that her clients could see what they were getting. She was the best at what she did.

  “You are dressed in nothing but a garter belt, stockings, and high heels. The two men who you’ve come to trust have placed a blindfold over your eyes as they lead you into a room. The air is colder here and caressing your skin, but the heat from their familiar touch is keeping you warm. You feel their fingers stroke your skin and assure you that you are safe. Your nipples harden and your bare pussy moistens at their promise of giving you release if you are a proper submissive and do as you are told. One of your men instructs you to stand and present yourself, with your legs shoulder width apart, your hands clasped above your buttocks and your elbows pressed back to give your breasts the proper prominence. You can feel the coolness of your leash’s chain trailing across the side of your breast, connecting your bejeweled collar to your Master’s firm hand. The other releases your blindfold. Dozens of people, men and women, are staring at you—observing. They know that you belong to these men. The women are jealous, wanting to be standing in your spiked heels. The men would give anything to touch you, but understand they don’t have your Masters’ permission. Or do they? Would your men allow that, or are they too possessive of their new sub? Now open your eyes, Rebecca, and tell me how that makes you feel.”