How to Punish Your Playboy (DommeNation #3)

by Mina Vaughn

  Aston and I had big plans for Chicago, originally. We were going to try all the famous pizzerias and eat their thick, deep dish pies while I tried to ignore the calories and enjoy the cheesy goodness. Then we were going to go to the Museum of Science and Industry, to see the Sears Tower, and do all the touristy things the city had to offer.

  Instead, Aston did the smart thing and got his money back for the second night and we took to the road again. I was really proud of him. But, admittedly, we stuck around until lunch so we could get an authentic deep dish pizza from Lou Malnati’s. The pie was thick and gooey and the sounds Aston made while eating it made me wish we’d kept the room available for some afternoon delight.

  The road to Lincoln, Nebraska, was utterly dull. Endless swaths of land, farms, and a whole lot of nothing for hours on end. I thought much of our driving had been this way, but this was easily the most boring route so far.

  “Want to play license plate bingo?” I asked, head in my hand as I looked out the passenger-side window. The wind whipped through my hair and I’d forgotten my kerchief, so I knew that wherever we stopped I’d look like a hot mess. We’d need to hit up a rest stop at some point so I could at least brush out the snarls.

  “Nah,” he answered, eyes firmly on the road, hands gripping the wheel tightly.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. He looked overly tense.

  Aston took a deep breath and clutched the wheel tighter. “I need to up my game.”

  “Your game?” I asked. “You planning on entering a card tournament in Vegas or something?”

  He shook his head. “My chef game. If I’m going to meet with the owner of a hotel and casino, I’d better be hot shit. Without my parents’ backing, it’s all on me. I need more than some flashy menu and attractive concept ideas to win them over. I need to knock their socks off.”

  I nodded. “Okay, so what do you need to do?”

  Aston shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe just bounce some ideas around while we drive? I think I should have a backup concept in case they don’t like the Italian comfort food thing.”

  My stomach grumbled and I thought about the two slices of pizza leftover from lunch. Was this what Sarah had warned about when she said I shouldn’t date a chef? I looked down at my waistline and a small strip of flesh at the top of my shorts slightly protruding over the fabric. I shrugged it off, telling myself that everyone had one of those when they sat down. I took a long sip of water to fill my stomach with something to calm the storm. “Sure,” I said. “Hit me.”

  “Only if you hit me later,” he responded with a wry smile.

  I chuckled and gave his side a pinch. He wiggled in his seat.

  “So, what else can you do with Italian food that you haven’t seen done before? We’ve all seen super upscale Italian, regular mom and pop Italian, Americanized Italian, and the authentic stuff like the delis in Federal Hill. How can we make something new?”

  I tapped my lip, getting a little smudge of red lipstick on my finger. “What about Italian tapas?” I asked. I partially liked the idea because the plates were small and I wouldn’t gorge myself on an entire plate of lasagna.

  Aston looked thoughtful for a moment. “That’s a nice idea, but the actual dishes wouldn’t be anything new. You’re on the right track, though.”

  “What about an Italian burger joint? Vegas is the perfect place for something like that.”

  He cocked his head. “Explain. I’m intrigued.”

  “So, you’d have a bunch of burgers that are similar to Italian recipes. The meatball burger, where the patty is coated in tomato sauce, shaved Parmesan on top. The lasagna burger that’s basically the meatball burger only with a dollop of ricotta cheese. Maybe a burger with the kind of toppings that go on Italian subs, that sort of thing.”

  “That’s really interesting,” he said, nodding quickly. “A marsala burger with mushrooms and a wine-flavored glaze. A saltimbocca burger with prosciutto, provolone, and sage aioli. Damn, Mistress, this isn’t bad!”

  I giggled, feeling pretty proud of myself.

  “What do you say to some experimenting?”

  I licked my lips. “With you, I’m always up for experimenting.”

  Aston laughed. “We can do that sort of thing after. I mean let’s skip sightseeing in Lincoln and spend tomorrow test-kitchen style.”

  “Test kitchen meaning cook and sample everything?” I asked with a nervous titter.

  “Yup. We’ll make sure the room has a kitchen and a grocery store nearby. I can’t wait,” he said, putting his hand on my knee. “Now, let’s think about concept.”

  Just then, my phone rang. I slid it out of my pocket and looked at the screen. It wasn’t a number I knew, but the area code was from Rhode Island. I wondered if the new manager was having a problem at the garage. “Hello?” I answered.

  “Miss Veronika Kane?” the male voice on the other end of the line asked.

  “Speaking.”

  “This is attorney Don Garant,” the voice said. My entire body broke out in goose bumps. A lawyer? Shit. “I’m calling on behalf of my client, Derek Latham.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. My hand trembled as I held the phone to my ear. “What can I do for you?” I asked, trying to make the conversation sound innocuous. I couldn’t let Aston know what was really going on.

  “I’m calling to give you a chance to settle with Mr. Latham out of court.”

  “Go on,” I said, voice quavering. “Mr. Latham will agree to drop his suit against you if you return to Rhode Island and relinquish a sum of one hundred fifty thousand dollars. This will clear you of any legal obligations and ties to him.”

  “I—” I stuttered. “I can’t do that.”

  “Miss Kane, might I remind you that you sold that car for a half million dollars? You legally owe your ex-boyfriend two hundred fifty thousand dollars. It is out of great generosity that he has lowered the sum to one hundred fifty thousand. Coming back to Rhode Island and settling out of court will save you a hundred grand. And think of all the lawyer’s fees you’d need if this case went to court. It would probably hit half a million.”

  My throat dried out, and words could barely make their way out of my mouth. “I’m afraid the answer is no,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. I didn’t have that much. I couldn’t ask Aston for the money, and I certainly couldn’t go to the veterans foundation and ask for the cash back. I’d have to cross my fingers that Derek had no legal grounds for this, or just go to court and hope that they’d side with me.

  And if they didn’t, I’d be forced to sell my garage.

  “You’re making a huge mistake, Miss Kane.”

  “Wait, how did you know I was out of state?” I asked. Did Sarah give Derek details about my trip?

  The phone cut out, and the lawyer was no longer there. He’d hung up on me. My lip trembled, and I knew that a flood of tears were on their way. I couldn’t let Aston see me cry. I had to hide this.

  “What’s going on?” Aston asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said, and a tear trickled down the right side of my face. I fought the urge to wipe it and prayed my left eye wouldn’t be so traitorous.

  “It doesn’t sound like nothing,” he said.

  “Just drive,” I barked. Hopefully he’d remember he was a submissive and just let go of the topic altogether.

  Instead, Aston pulled to the side of the road. We were beside a cornfield and the tall stalks stood like sentinels next to the car as he turned off the engine and looked me square in the eyes. “What is going on? You look like you saw a ghost, and clearly you’re on the verge of tears.”

  “I’m going to gag you if you keep talking,” I threatened, trying to deflect the truth with sexual advances.

  He pointed a finger at me. “That’s not going to work this time.”

  I crossed my arms. “I re
spected you when you didn’t want to talk about what happened with your parents. The least you could do is listen to me right now when I say I do not want to talk about that phone call.”

  He put his hand on my shoulder and lowered his voice. “Please, Mistress. I want to know. I want to help.”

  I wadded up a napkin and gestured to his mouth. “Open.”

  He complied and I felt a little less nervous. If he was gagged, he couldn’t ask questions.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and struggled to find a lie. “I’m having some trouble with the garage. The manager isn’t being straight with me.”

  Aston lifted an eyebrow and shook his head. Shit, even when he was gagged he could call me out.

  “Fine. You’re right. I lied.”

  He looked hurt.

  I crossed my arms around me defensively. “It’s complicated, okay? I’ve got an issue back home that I really don’t want to talk about.” I pulled the napkin out of his mouth.

  Aston’s face searched mine for a long moment. “Then hurt me.”

  “What?” I asked. Had he seen Sarah’s video?

  I’d played it to myself while I was in the shower.

  “You’re hurting, and I can’t have that. If you won’t let me be a friend and listen to your problems, let me be your submissive and allow me to take your pain.” His eyes burned and his jaw set. He meant it.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, feeling complicated, conflicting emotions. I was so scared and so stunned by the Derek situation, but Aston aroused me so much. And the idea of him taking my pain, well, it was something I’d never thought of doing. Plus, I’d get to work on Sarah’s lesson from this morning. And it would be my workout, after all.

  He unbuckled and opened his door. “Let’s go.”

  I watched as he walked around the car. “Go where?” I asked.

  He stood next to the tall stalks of corn that loomed over him. “This way,” he said, disappearing into the field. “You may need a minute to find something in your bag, but I’ll be waiting.”

  In my bag? Oh, the bondage stuff I took from Sarah’s place. I exited the car and popped the small trunk. I rifled through the vinyl tape and the rope until I found something long and hard. I pulled it out and saw it was a riding crop. I slapped it against my hand with a sweet sting. It would hurt.

  But Aston wanted it.

  I could no longer see him, so I pushed past the few stalks of corn and into the field. Still no Aston, just me and plants. “Aston?”

  “Here, Mistress,” I heard a voice call from farther in. Pushing the stalks aside, I made my way through the field. “I’m waiting,” he said.

  Giggling, I continued to bob and weave through the stalks until I saw a figure. Aston. He was naked, facing away from me, grasping a tall plant like it was a pole. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at me. “I’m waiting for my punishment,” he said, voice heavy and coarse.

  At the sight my breath hitched in my chest. The golden sunlight filtered through the long stalks, sending dappled bits of brightness and shadow across his body. His muscles twitched as he heard my approach. “Please, Mistress.”

  I stood merely inches away from him and marveled at his body. I started with my fingernails across his shoulders and down his back, raking his skin. He shuddered, and I watched goose bumps peek out from beneath the soft hairs on his arms. “More,” he begged. Little faint red lines surfaced from my fingertips’ race down his spine. I ran them down his back again, this time harder. I felt some of the pain I had pent up from the phone call just now as I transferred it to him.

  It felt startlingly good.

  I raised the crop and brought it down across his right glute. It left a small red mark and Aston jumped. “Green,” he said, and I was proud he remembered the signals I taught him in the boathouse. Again, the pain inside me lessened as Aston took it from me.

  I struck him again with the crop, only this time across his back. A red welt streaked across his back like an angry comet, and my mind began to clear.

  “Green.”

  Another hit, this time over his shoulder and down by his shoulderblades. He was loving the discomfort, relishing in the pain. He was more of a masochist than I’d thought. Aston didn’t just like the bondage, he liked being controlled and used. And right now, the way I felt, I liked being on the giving end. I was shocked at this feeling, this give-and-take of pain and emotion. He needed to be used, and I needed to be the one in control. While our relationship had taken a vanilla turn once or twice, the root of it was here, it was this. The Domme and sub exchange of power felt truly right.

  “You’re making me so hard, Mistress.”

  Crack went the crop across both his upper thighs. Fuck Derek. Fuck that lawyer. They can’t mess with me. I clawed my fingernails down his back and roughly grabbed Aston’s ass, fingernails making imprints in the taut skin. “You are mine,” I hissed.

  “All yours, Mistress,” he whispered. “Use me.”

  I beat against his back and collapsed with a sob, a primal sound from the back of my throat made up of fear, anger, and release. This was catharsis in its purest form—Aston was purging me of the gunk that had been building up since we left home.

  He spun, cradling me against his chest, and I clung to him for a moment to catch my breath. “On the ground,” I said, and he found a spot between the stalks where he had enough space to sit with his knees up and legs somewhat extended.

  I peeled off my shirt, joining him in his natural state. Nothing seemed more right—we were here, out in nature. We should be naked. I unhooked my bra and loosed my breasts. Aston’s eyes grew hazy with lust. I pulled my shorts and panties off in one swipe and soon I was nude and looming over him. He scooted his back against one of the stalks and winced. I walked over him and straddled his body, standing straight and looking down on him.

  “Hands behind your back,” I said. “Now.”

  He moved his hands behind him and puffed out his chest. He was very erect, and I was wet and waiting for him. Without another word, I squatted and slid down the length of him.

  Aston moaned and I began to slam myself down on him, writhing and grinding and gritting my teeth.

  “Take what you need, Mistress,” he moaned.

  I wound my hands in my messy hair and continued to ride Aston’s cock. I felt wave upon wave of euphoria take over me. It was so wild, so reckless. We were fucking in the middle of a field, naked, sweating. I reached down with my right hand and worked my own clit, since I’d told Aston to keep his hands behind his back. This was about relief, and I wasn’t shy to give myself what I needed on the outside as Aston’s long length gave me what I needed on the inside. His face was the picture of rapture, the way his warm, wet lips parted and panted for me. His eyes, lids heavy from ogling my bouncing breasts, beckoned to me, silently begging me to take what I wanted from his body. I used his dick, wiggling my body up and down on it until soon I felt like a coil ready to spring. My finger worked faster, swirling in my wet flesh, and when Aston threw his head back and growled in pleasure, I knew I’d taken what I needed. I let my body unravel in the orgasm, legs thrashing, hair wild and wanton, hands gripped on his hips.

  “Come for me, baby,” I nearly screamed, desperate for Aston to fill me. My muscles clenched around him as he pumped himself out inside me. His face was red with effort, and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead and neck as he came, spasming inside me. I collapsed on him and we both fell back.

  Giggles gripped me as I wrapped myself around Aston, planting a wet kiss on his mouth. He sighed and gave in, laughing with me and squeezing me hard. We lay like that for a moment, bodies tangled together, half-supported by the stalks of corn, acting like a couple of naked idiots. After the swell of amusement had subsided, Aston and I helped each other stand and we dressed.

  Hand in hand, we walked out of the corn field. I felt refreshed and
much less worried about what Derek was going to do. I wasn’t an expert in the law, but that car flat out wasn’t his. I was a strong woman, a Mistress, and nobody was going to take anything that was mine. Not my car, not my man.

  Aston and I got back in the car after shaking some of the field debris from our clothes and hair. We were still chuckling. I took the driver’s seat this time. I was in complete control of my life. We headed toward Lincoln with a fresh outlook—Aston was going places with our new idea, and I felt confident that whatever was going to happen with Derek and the lawyer was going to work out in my favor.

  I’d make it work that way. I was in charge.

  “Wakey wakey, Mistress! Are you putting more wear and tear on the car’s treads or Aston’s behind at this point? Slow down today and do something sensual with your man. Delight in all the senses, or perhaps enhance a few and deprive others. Test his responses. The ability of the body to compensate when one sense is dulled can really amaze both you and Mr. Hottypants! After your Domme work is done, try this: Place your back against a doorframe, put your feet out at a thirty-degree angle, and scoot yourself down. See how long you can hold it! Your thighs will thank me.”

  As always, Sarah’s morning message added just a little more sunshine to the day. We got in late last night and saw nothing of the city until now. Lincoln had the cleanest-tasting air of any city I’d been to. The endless fields of corn and crops that were the prelude to Lincoln gave me the notion that the city would be equally wholesome, and I was right. It had a small feel for a city, almost homey, and when Aston read a sign for a local farmers’ market, he jumped.

  “That corn was giving me ideas,” he said, lost in thought.

  “It gave me ideas, too,” I joked, as we pulled into a parking lot near the marketplace.

  He grinned. “The produce here must be so fresh,” he commented. “I mean, we’re in the Heartland. This is where so much of our food comes from. I’m dying to get my hands on some nice grass-fed beef, some corn and potatoes, make something rustic and homestyle.”