Laird's Submissive [Soldiers of Passion 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) Read online

  Soldiers of Passion 1

  Laird’s Submissive

  Layle Evans is bound, gagged, and blindfolded. As a newbie this is beyond her comfort level. Laird, owner of a BDSM club, steps in and saves Layle from obvious distress. Laird's inner Dom demands that he take care of the little sub. Bad memories from Layle’s past come to surface. Being gang raped by fellow comrades haunts her. Layle needs to face her fears and Laird wants to help her.

  Laird Roan never, ever, under any circumstances messes with the subs in his establishment. Especially not ones that have no interest in his kink. Why does the sensual Layle have a pull on him? Is it her determination to push herself and her limits? Or is it that her number one "No" is his kink? Can Laird and Layle find a compromise? Can they find the love that is pulling them together?

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary

  Length: 28,883 words

  LAIRD'S SUBMISSIVE

  Soldiers of Passion 1

  Dace Everan

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  LAIRD'S SUBMISSIVE

  Copyright © 2014 by Dace Everan

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-580-4

  First E-book Publication: April 2014

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Laird's Submissive by Dace Everan from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Dace Everan’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Everan’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  To my readers, thank you for the ongoing support.

  A big Thank You to everyone at Siren. You’re appreciated.

  A big shout out to my honey bunchers! XOXO

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  About the Author

  LAIRD'S SUBMISSIVE

  Soldiers of Passion 1

  DACE EVERAN

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Layle inhaled a shaky, hindered breath. Drool slid a slow warm path down her jaw and stilled until more joined and continued down her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to jump from her heaving chest. She cringed as she felt the soft leather slide over her bare thighs. The ball gag in her mouth hampered her speech as she tried to cry out in protest.

  She hadn’t signed up for this! One of her hell no’s was a ball gag, or any gag for that matter. Those things freaked the shit out of her, as did the black gas masks that covered any Dominant’s face. Never would she allow one of those to be worn in her presence. Her eyes fluttered against the blindfold, and she wished she had just kept them closed, as lint now scratched against her contacts.

  She gave her head a shake as he slid something hard between her thighs against her thankfully panty-clad pussy. Her thighs trembled, and she hadn’t felt this kind of humiliation in a long time. Her nipples stung as her tormentor tugged painfully at the clamps pinching them. Tears slid from her eyes, the blindfold seeping them up before they could roll down her face.

  She cried out as he rubbed something hard against her pussy. She shook her head. Her hair fell about her shoulders in limp strands. Her heart leapt to an outstanding speed.

  “Oh shush now. We know this is what you want, what you asked for,” whispered her tormenter’s throaty voice from next to her ear.

  She jerked away, shaking her head furiously. No, this wasn’t what she wanted! She hadn’t signed up for this. She struggled against the cuffs that held her hands bound behind her back and chained to the large chair she had so willingly sat her stupid self in. The sharp, cold metal dug into her tender flesh. Where the hell were the monitors! Weren’t they supposed to come around and make sure everyone was okay?

  She started to scream hysterically. She didn’t want to do this any longer. No way was she letting this man do this to her! She struggled in her binds. The scratchy rope at her ankles burned her flesh. The cuffs banged against her wristbones. Terror rushed through her. The blinding darkness that the blindfold gave her turned to a white terrifying place that she didn’t want to be anymore. More drool rolled down her throat, and the tears escaped the soaked blindfold.

  * * * *

  Laird narrowed his eyes on Jonathan, who continued to torment poor Layle strapped to the chair. His teeth clenched in anger. Jonathan was new to the scene, young and inexperienced, but he had taken every single class the club had offered. So far his first time of taking his first submissive was going horribly.

  He opened the door and slid into the room. He snapped his fingers and Jonathan turned to him. Laird shook his head, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “You need to leave, Jonathan, now…This is far beyond your ability,�
�� he uttered in a stone-cold voice.

  Jonathan narrowed his eyes. His upper lip twitched with irritation. How dare Mr. Big Hot Shot come in here and take over his scene! He didn’t know what this little slut wanted!

  Laird all but took one step forward, and Jonathan straightened out. Smart choice. Laird would have taken him down a few notches and then some for frightening Layle this badly. He might just hunt him down after and take a beating out of him. Or better yet. “Pack your things. You won’t be coming back to my club,” he ordered as he crossed to Layle, kneeling in front of her and removing the blindfold holding her head in place. “Look at me, Layle…It’s Master Laird, you’re safe. I’m going to take the gag off,” he whispered in a soothing voice.

  Layle shook her head. Confusion filled her thoughts. She struggled in her binds.

  Laird looked her over. She was terrified. He had never seen her scared. “Layle, you need to calm down. You’re safe now. He’s gone.”

  Layle’s eyes darted past him and widened. Hysterical screams rent past the ball gag. She struggled against the restraints and could not close her eyes. Dark memories seared her brain, and the chaos took over.

  Laird looked back and watched as Jonathan removed the latex black mask from his head. The blond hair Laird was used to seeing fell over narrow shoulders and a sneer took over Jonathan’s usual calm features. The monitor safeguarding the room had assured him it was Jonathan in this room with Layle. Laird didn’t need to know that though. He recognized all his Doms by stature and fetish. He clenched his jaw. Anyone who knew Layle knew the masks were a big hell no for her. “Get out now!” he barked, trying to ignore the piercing, muffled screams.

  Jonathan grunted, grabbing his bag, and left the room.

  Laird turned his attention back to Layle. “Look at me, Layle. Focus on me—he’s gone. He won’t be coming back,” he cooed.

  Her big, green, terror-filled eyes met his gaze, and he cringed. He caressed her cheek, repeating his words until less terror filled those large emerald eyes. “I’m going to remove the gag now.”

  Layle gave a slight nod, her breathing hampered by the stupid contraption. More drool fell down her face. Fuck. She hated gags. She found them humiliating. She only used blindfolds with the older ones in the club. She trusted the older ones.

  He was careful as he unbuckled the gag. He slipped the napkin from the front pocket of his suit and wiped her face. “You may speak, Layle,” he ordered.

  Her eyes filled with fear, followed by hurt and pain. “I didn’t know he was going to gag me! I thought I would push myself and let him blindfold me!” Fat tears rolled down her face. “I called feather! He wouldn’t talk to me. He just covered my eyes and before I could yell ‘hawk,’ he had me gagged.” She broke down in sobs, and strong warm arms circled her.

  * * * *

  Laird held her elbow as he led her up the stairs of the apartment building. “Are you sure you’re good to stay alone?” he asked for the third time.

  Layle nodded. “Good,” she assured, thankful her voice wasn’t shaky this time around.

  It had taken him an hour to calm her friggin’ nerves and another hour before he let her out of his sight. Even then she was sure he had still been watching her. He had told her to go to the lounge area of the club, sat her between two Doms who she had had numerous scenes with, and let them take care of her.

  Layle dug her keys out of her purse, fingers trembling. She inhaled a shaky breath, closing her eyes. That stupid black mask that Master Jonathan had been wearing flashed through her thoughts. She had had a man wear one of those and do things to her. She gritted her teeth. She refused to let herself go to that place.

  “You’re letting your mind wander, little one.” His voice was close and his breath hot on her neck.

  She plucked up her keys and slid the key home in the lock. “I’m fine,” she murmured, opening the door, reaching in, and flicking on the light before entering.

  Laird’s jaw ticked. He hated seeing this woman scared. A year she had been coming to his club. Four of those months she had sat and watched and observed everything happening around her. She had sat in on every class she could attend, even those for Doms.

  Pride had filled him when she had come in on initiation night, dressed in her white lace bustier and beautiful lace thong with garters and cherry-red heels. She had removed those heels and knelt before him, asking to be a part of his club. Her raven locks pinned up and her long slender neck open and waiting for a collar that all the women who wanted to be a permanent part of his club wore. The adoration she’d had in her eyes as he strapped that leather collar around her neck had been scrumptious.

  He stepped through her door and glanced around the spacious, brightly decorated apartment. He glanced over his shoulder at her. He never took her as the obscenely bright-colored type.

  Layle cleared her throat. “My roommate decorated before she went overseas,” she explained, hanging her purse on the wooden free-standing coat hanger to her left. She slipped her coat off, hanging it, and hugged herself. “I’m good, you can go now,” she whispered.

  Laird furrowed his brow. Was that doubt he saw on her face? “Layle…this is your home, so if you don’t want me here just say so,” he ordered.

  Layle scrunched up her eyebrows. He made her feel safe, and it wasn’t that she wanted him to leave.

  She was just in a bad place and needed to be alone. Being alone had always helped her before. She knew no one could hurt her while she was alone.

  Laird chuckled, reaching past her, closing the door, and locking the numerous locks. “There, better?” he asked, removing his overcoat, hanging it, and laying a hand on her lower back. “Show me your home, Layle,” he ordered.

  Layle peeked up at him. Her tummy fluttered, and the heat from his hand spread throughout her body. A whole year she had watched him from the corner of her eye. Five months she had craved his touch. Tall, broad, and overpowering was what Laird was. He looked like one of those men who belonged out in the wild, not in the middle of a bustling city. Wavy, abandoned, russet, glossy hair hung over his shoulders, and broad shoulders they were. His waist was thick enough that she might be able to wrap her puny arms around him, her long legs easily and tightly. She stood eye level with his upper chest but short of his chin.

  “It’s not very big,” she whispered.

  Laird chuckled. “You didn’t have anything to do with any of the decorating?” he asked, his gaze wandering the room.

  Layle stopped in front of a large blank canvas. “That,” she whispered, biting her lower lip. The urge to kneel at his feet was overpowering. She closed her eyes. This wasn’t how she was when she came home. She should be changing into her jeans and T-shirt and lounging on the couch, turning on a horror flick and munching on popcorn.

  Laird cocked his head, staring at the blank canvas. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and shit if he didn’t push her to her knees. “Tell me why,” he ordered.

  Layle closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his strength as it seeped through her. She rested her bum on the heels of her feet, spread her legs wide, and clasped her hands behind her back. “It’s blank, the possibilities are endless,” she whispered.

  Laird smiled. He liked that answer. He petted her head and sighed as she rested her cheek against his thigh. “Do you spend a lot of time staring at it?” he asked.

  Layle released a breath. “Yes,” she answered. How could she not. Her fear of dealing with the real world was too overwhelming to leave the safe confines of her tiny apartment. The club was different. Life didn’t seem so real.

  Laird glanced down at her, and his heart hammered against his chest. Sweet bliss, the woman was a good girl. He lowered and crouched in front of her. He hooked a finger under her chin and made her look at him. Pupils dilated, lips slightly parted. He ran his thumb over her lower plump lip. What to do?

  Chapter Two

  Layle held her breath as his eyes assessed her. His thumb pad was soft but his stroke stea
dy against her lip. She could smell the peppermint on his breath, and his potent cologne filled her senses. Would this be her time to be with Master Laird? Her heart fluttered, and her tummy did a massive somersault.

  It broke Laird’s heart, but there was no way he could play with the beauty. He dipped close, lips caressing her sweet softness. Her breath held and her eyes closed. “You should get some rest, little one,” he whispered.

  Layle’s heart crumpled but she held her stance and gave a slight nod. She would not show disappointment. She would hold her head high and accept his decision.

  Laird smiled. “Good girl. If you would like I will stay in the guest room.”

  Layle rose without instruction and passed him. She made a hasty dash down the hall before he could see the tears in her eyes. She pulled open the hall closet and pulled out clean linens and comforter. “This way,” she called, not sure how she was to address him here, in her home.

  Laird followed her, his eyebrow rising as she quickly made up the bed, slung pillows into clean cases, and neatly put them at the head of the king-size bed.

  “You’ll have to excuse the colors…it’s my roommate’s room. She’s not due back for some time yet.” She gave a slight nod and squeezed by him to get through the door.

  Laird grabbed her elbow before she could completely escape. “Layle, outside of the club we are equals,” he whispered.

  Layle dared look up into his blue eyes. He watched as hurt-filled eyes turned cold and distant. “Then have a good rest, Laird. If you need a drink, there’s bottled water in the fridge.” She pulled her elbow from his grasp and left him to his own thoughts.