How to Reprimand Your Rock Star (DommeNation #2)

by Mina Vaughn

  “What’s going on?”

  Callie tsked at me. “Do you only check your phone when your rockstar boyfriend is calling?”

  I shooshed her and pulled out my phone. Five missed texts.

  “Seriously,” I said, eyes narrowed. “Why would the boys’ team be throwing a party for us tonight?”

  Callie pulled on some black boots. “Because they’re our counterparts and they want to celebrate our success in moving on in the tournament?”

  I shook my head at her. “This is some sort of trap. They’re trying to get us tired and hungover so we suck at practice and Coach gets mad. And you know they want to get further than us in the tournament since we always top them.”

  Yup, definitely blushed at saying top them.

  “You’re overanalyzing.”

  “You’re naïve.”

  She poked her finger at my chest. “You’re the one who’s naïve! I’ve had to explain a lot of sex stuff to you in the past few days, woman. Now, if you’d only just borrow my Kindle, we wouldn’t have to have uncomfortable conversations about anal beads.”

  “We have never talked about anal beads, and we never will,” I said, changing into something a little nicer but not by much. “I’ll go with you, okay? Just don’t drink and stay out too late.”

  She grabbed my shoulders and jiggled them. “Loosen up! Live a little! Don’t you care about impressing them?”

  I frowned. “If you want to impress the guys’ team, let’s do it by winning against UNC in two weeks.”

  WE ARRIVED AT THE BOYS' team’s house, which was tucked down a residential side street close to Ell Drive. This was unofficial, of course, because while athletes had to stay on campus, they needed a place to blow off steam. The guys didn’t have a houseparent, just one of the captains’ older brothers who rented the place to them. They had a lot more freedom than we did.

  And a basketball court in their backyard. Talk about an advantage.

  A few girls from the team were there already, drinking and socializing. Nobody was shitfaced, but it was early. I didn’t want to police them, but at the same time I couldn’t sit idly by and watch us get yelled at tomorrow because of their stupidity.

  Wes and a few other boys were scattered across the sprawling farmer’s porch, sitting in large white Adirondack chairs and watching their teammates play beer pong on the lawn.

  “Better keep the booze away from Pops,” he said loudly. “She was so wasted the other night on Ell Drive with all the other pathetic freshmen drinking their faces off.”

  His cohorts chuckled politely, but they all knew it was a setup. They knew the truth.

  “So what were you doing there, Wes?” I retorted.

  Wes shrugged. “It was decent entertainment.”

  Callie and I walked past them and into the house where we grabbed bottled water. It was easier to show the team that we were being safe than having to defend against Wes and his stupid pictures. Tonight I was prepared for his assholery.

  “Hey Callie and Thea, glad to see you guys looking alive,” Donelle joked as we entered. The other upperclassmen girls saluted us as we approached them. We tried to casually enter their private little world. I wanted to be one of them, dammit, and that wasn’t going to happen if I sulked on the sidelines and kept my mouth shut.

  “Feeling much better and ready for UNC,” I replied with a smile, toasting my water with Reese’s beer. They smiled and nodded.

  “We need more than just Coach’s strategy to go against that team. They’ve improved a lot since we last played them,” said Jennifer, a six-four junior poised to take the captainship.

  The captains nodded.

  “They only come alive in the second half,” I noted. “If you watch any replays, you’ll see they start to attack once the other team is tired. They save their energy.”

  Donelle’s eyes bugged. “Really?”

  I pulled out my phone. “Let me pull up some examples. They’re really clever about it. They play at fifty percent for the entire first half. If you look at their scores, you wouldn’t know, but if you compare where they are at the half and then the final score, you’ll see. Ever notice how they always come from behind?” I found a YouTube video of one of their games and showed the speed of the first half, and fast-forwarded to a clip of the second half. It was clear that they were ramping up their game later on.

  Reese shook her head. “Thea, not bad. Thank you.”

  I shrugged and tried to play it cool. “Just something I noticed. Happy to help.”

  Callie clapped her hand on my shoulder and grabbed another water. I smiled, feeling good about actually asserting myself. I guess this Domme stuff could bleed into other parts of my life. It made me really happy to have the team listen to what I had to say. And to think it was valuable instead of dismissing it as just some freshman’s opinions.

  Outside, I could hear the boys getting rowdy. Wes’s voice in particular was bordering on piercing. I rolled my eyes. “What is their deal?”

  Reese clucked her tongue. “I don’t even know why they had us here if they’re just going to serve booze and ignore us. I thought we’d, I don’t know, have some fun. Put on music. Maybe play a few games.”

  Jennifer saluted with her red Solo cup. “I’ve been known to play a mean game of Flip Cup.”

  “And I’m not so bad at Beirut,” Callie commented.

  “Beer pong,” I corrected. “Only you folks from Maine call it that.”

  She shook her head and stuck out her tongue. “Nuh-ahh.”

  Just then, Wes butted his head into the conversation. “Oh, you know all about beer pong, Thea,” he laughed loudly. “This girl knows how to party, that is, until she passes the fuck out.”

  I blinked at his words and my teammates looked at me in shock. “Oh really?” Donelle asked.

  “No, he’s being sarcastic,” I said, jiggling my water bottle. “See?”

  “Oh, she’s only dry tonight because she’s been getting so wasted on Ell Drive that she needs a night of not puking her guts out.”

  Callie shoved him lightly—enough to startle him, but not enough to cause a scene. “Go play with your little friends in the sandbox,” she said, gesturing to the bocce court on the side lawn.

  Looking both captains squarely in the eye, I told them the truth. “You guys know I’m not a drinker, but over the weekend I ran into Wes on Ell Drive. I took his drink because he was being an ass, and then he took a picture of me with it and was going to show you guys.”

  Donelle frowned.

  “He hates me,” I continued, “and wanted to get me in trouble with the team.”

  “Seems to line up with when you two got sick,” Reese said, her gaze vacillating between Callie and me.

  I held my hand up. “I swear, I’m telling the truth.”

  The captains looked at me warily and turned away from us, whispering.

  Callie’s frightened stare met my own.

  “I have a plan,” I said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her aside.

  For once, Callie the motormouth said nothing. I’d have to mentally record this in the record books.

  “I’m going to challenge Wes to a game of Horse. If he wins, I’ll do whatever he asks. Keg stand, parade around with my bra outside my shirt, whatever. But if he loses, he has to delete that picture and tell the captains he’s full of shit.”

  She nodded. “Brilliant,” she said. “Risky, but brilliant.”

  I leaned closer. “Not risky. Wes may have talent but he has no strategy. It’s like he plays the game without thinking at all. I’m not sure I can outplay him, but I can certainly outthink him.”

  I made my way out to the bocce court, where Wes was pretending he actually knew how to play bocce. He looked up at me and made a sour face. “The fuck you want?”

  “A game,” I replied, gesturing to the basketball court behind the house that was surprisingly not in use.

  “You want everyone here to watch me school you?” he laughed. “What would p
ossess you to actually challenge me?”

  I took a step closer. “My terms. You win, you can embarrass me in front of your precious team. I win, you delete that picture and tell my captains you were lying.”

  His smile dropped a fraction. “You know I can be pretty creative when it comes to humiliation. Hell, I’m in a frat. You sure you want to do this?”

  He was nervous.

  I nodded. “One game of Horse, that’s all I ask.”

  Wes stuck out his hand. “Done.”

  I shook, and he gave me a dead fish. I dropped his limp grasp as he laughed. Such an asshole.

  “Guys, I’m going to show Thea a thing or two out on the court! Come watch her get spanked.”

  “Use protection!” one of the upperclassmen shouted.

  My face heated, but out of anger, not embarrassment.

  Oh, Wes, I’ll show you spanked.

  A group of us made our way to the court, thankfully my captains remained in the house and it was mostly just a couple groups of freshmen. Some of my younger teammates were there to cheer me on, and that helped.

  But what really helped was my confidence. I thought of Keaton, and how he called me Goddess. It made me feel powerful. I pictured Scarlett’s poise and strength and how she was teaching me to be a Domme. I mentally cracked the tawse and prepared to dish some pain.

  “You start,” I said, passing the ball to Wes.

  His eyebrows lifted. “You are some kind of masochist.”

  “Quite the opposite,” I replied with a smirk. “Now shoot.”

  Horse is a game so simple even a kid can play, but if you’re going against a skilled player, it can be brutal. The first player takes a shot, and if it goes in, the second player needs to take the same shot. If player two misses, they gain a letter, H. And so on.

  Wes readied himself to take a simple shot from the side of the net, then stepped back a foot. Such an ego. He tossed the ball into the air and it swooshed.

  “Enjoy,” he said, watching me grab the rebound.

  I stood my ground and settled into the spot he had picked. It was slightly farther than I would have liked, and I really didn’t feel comfortable without a backboard because of the angle. I closed my eyes, pictured the feeling of victory, and shot.

  The ball sailed through the hoop. Swish.

  Wes frowned, annoyed, and repositioned himself. This time, he stood roughly at the three-point line and took a shot. I smiled, knowing that Wes rarely hit threes when he was down. Some people played better when morale was low, but others just let it get in their heads. Wes was the latter type.

  He missed.

  H.

  I was now the leader and decided where to take the shot from. Watching Wes play was unfortunately something I was familiar with, since as a team we had gone to so many of the boys’ games. But this inconvenience did have its advantages.

  I knew Wes had a weak left ankle, and never ever approached layups from that side.

  So, of course, it’s what I did.

  And the ball went in.

  The sour expression that was on his face earlier drooped and he looked like a melted wax figure, big nostrils flaring as his mouth sagged. And sure enough, after the missed shot, he earned his O.

  “Ho, ho, ho, it’s just like Christmas.”

  He shook his head, bereft of a retort.

  I wanted to text Keaton right there and tell him how I was having fun schooling someone else. He’d chuckle, or get jealous. Either way, he’d love it. Raising my hands, I shot the ball.

  And missed.

  Shit, okay, don’t think about Keaton anymore.

  Wes was the only one laughing now. “H, you’re catching up.”

  I rolled my eyes as he landed the next shot.

  My response was a ball in the hoop.

  After a few more rounds, the game was nearly tied. Wes with HORS and me with HOR.

  “What’cha got for me, HOR?” he asked, conspicuously making it sound like whore.

  At this point, more people had migrated out to the court and we had quite the audience.

  “A spanking,” I replied, taking a left layup and adding a twist at the end. I sailed through the air, ball rolling off the tip of my fingers, twirling with a final flourish. It was hard for me; it would be impossible for him.

  Wes ran in for the shot, missed, and earned his E. He landed on the ground with a whiny grunt.

  The crowd cheered and I nodded, trying not to gloat.

  Donelle and Reese ran out to the court and gave me matching high fives. “Nice job!”

  “Hey ladies,” I said to them, beckoning to the loser who stood brooding under the hoop, “Wes has a little something he’d like to say to you.”

  Wes walked behind me with his head down, and for a moment I liked him. He was almost submissive. Then I gagged at the thought of him actually submitting. Still, it was nice to see him lowered.

  “Well?” I said as he stood in front of our captains.

  He looked between them, nostrils flaring. He was still pissed. “Thea’s a lush and shouldn’t be allowed to play on your team.”

  I shoved him. “The fuck, Wes? You said you’d tell them the truth.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “That’s the truth.”

  I shook my head as Donelle and Reese stared wide-eyed at the two of us. “Wesley, what the fuck was the reason for you two to play that game if you were going to stand here and be a little shit?” Reese asked.

  “Because Thea’s a fucking cunt who doesn’t deserve to be playing D I.”

  Just then, the captains of the boys’ team showed up, clearly interested by the shouting.

  Donelle pointed to Wes. “You need to get this one in line.”

  The captain, Russell Johnson, got in Wes’s face. “Are you bothering these ladies?” he asked.

  Wes cowed. “No, just Pops here is being a slovenly asshole and I told her captains.”

  Reese stepped forward. “Thea hasn’t had a sip tonight, and if she were drunk, that would mean she’s a better basketball player than a sober dude with a chip on his shoulder.”

  I looked at Russell. “Wes is trying to blackmail me with a picture of me drinking the night of the ACC loss. It was his drink, and I didn’t take one sip. I played a game of Horse with him so that he’d tell my captains the truth. Instead, he proved that he’s a pathetic, lying little prick.”

  Russ stood at his full height, six eight, and looked down at six-three Wes. “Is this true?” he said, low voice rumbling across the porch. Everyone on both teams was watching now.

  Wes nodded without a word.

  Russell poked his long pointer finger into Wes’s chest. “Consider yourself on probation.” He turned and looked at me. “Sorry he gave you any trouble.”

  Donelle put her arm around me. “The only trouble is the smackdown Thea gave him tonight. Keep control of your freshmen and keep them out of our faces,” she said then turned to me. “You did good.”

  I breathed in and out slowly and chalked up one more small victory.

  “Did you read the book?” Scarlett asked.

  I snorted. “Are you my Kink 101 professor? Yes, I did my homework.”

  “Good, you’ve passed my first test. I have a gift for you.”

  Was being into bondage something that required initiation, like a frat? Maybe she and I could start a kinky sorority together, Beta Delta Sigma Mu. I’d be curious to watch faces as they walked by a sorority house that read BDSM.

  “Um, thanks?”

  “I was thinking about the fact that you won’t see your new sub for another week and realized I have a little something for you. To help train you for your relationship and your next game. To get you in the zone,” Scarlett said.

  My nose wrinkled. This was a Domme, not a coach. “What do you mean, get into the zone? You don’t even play basketball?” I whined into the phone. Seriously, I was getting game-day tips from a kinkster?

  “Shoosh, you. I know you’re going to need to focus on your next game
and if your head is all full of your smexy weekend with a submissive hunk, you can’t,” Scarlett said.

  I rolled my eyes at the phone, grateful she couldn’t see. I didn’t tell her that Keaton and I hadn’t actually consummated our relationship yet, and I don’t think serious make outs were enough to warrant him being my submissive hunk, but whatever. I didn’t even know if I’d ever see him again. I just hoped I would. “Okay, fine, I have an hour. We have to be at practice at five.” I checked the time, it was only three.

  “Good,” Scarlett said, voice like a whip. “Don’t worry about what to wear . . . I’ll provide.”

  My eyes bugged and she hung up.

  What to wear? I shrugged it off and headed over to the Golden Apple, going over the last game in my head. I thought about my mistakes, the highlights, and really tried to imagine how the next rounds would go.

  All I knew for sure is that North Carolina and Miami meant Keaton.

  When I approached Scarlett’s domain, I noticed a familiar face heading into the store. Nico, the cute and overly talkative guy from class. Shit, I’d have to pretend I was buying crystals. Maybe he was in there buying incense. He did strike me as a potential stoner, so there you go.

  But when I stepped inside, he was gone. Maybe I was wrong. I blinked my eyes and searched around the store for any witnesses of me entering the back room. There was a black-haired employee at the register, arranging small stones in a web-like pattern. I left her to her game and slipped past the pink curtains.

  Scarlett stood by the rack of cuffs, lost in thought.

  “Hey,” I said, approaching her. She was wearing black leather pants and a white bustier with black piping. The contrast was really striking, and of course she looked good in anything. I wondered how much of that effect was her commanding presence and how much was that she had a long and curvy body.

  She smiled at me. “So glad you could make it. Come with me,” she said hurriedly, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward a dressing room door. “Your outfit’s in there. It’s a loaner for today.”

  I chuckled nervously and stepped inside. Wow. It was a pair of white leather pants, and a black bustier with white piping—the exact opposite of what Scarlett was wearing. What was her plan? She had also provided a skimpy white thong and some platform heels. How nice. I nearly laughed as I imagined myself a year ago looking at this outfit and expecting to put it on. Hell, even a month ago I would have been stunned at myself.