How to Punish Your Playboy (DommeNation #3)

by Mina Vaughn

  The last question dried my throat. “We were engaged,” I breathed. I felt Aston tense next to me. I hadn’t mentioned that part. I didn’t think I had to.

  Sheila frowned. “That muddies things a bit,” she said, taking a long sip from her glass and placing it on the ornate metal end table beside her. “When you broke up, how did you divide things?”

  I could see Aston drain his drink. Clearly he was not enjoying this, and frankly, I don’t think anyone in the room was.

  “I took my things and left,” I said. “I don’t own much, so it was easy. I had moved in with him, so the furniture was his. I may have bought a few mixing bowls or frames, but mainly I took my clothes and my personal items and took off.”

  Sheila looked at me in distaste. “So you didn’t formally discuss the split? You just left? In my professional opinion,” she said, lip arching upward, “that was a stupid move.”

  Aston stood. “Veronika is a smart woman who had her reasons for what she did. Do not speak to her like that,” he said, venom in his voice. He then looked at me with apology in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

  I gestured for him to sit, and he quietly obeyed. I turned my attention to Sheila, who seemed stunned at the exchange between Aston and me. “Under normal circumstances, breakups ought to be discussed, but I have to disagree with you on one thing, Sheila. Breaking up with Derek was the furthest thing from stupid.” I sat up straighter, crossed my legs, and placed a hand on Aston’s knee. “He wasn’t my type.”

  I felt Aston’s gaze on my neck, my legs, and I wanted to blush, but I think my body repressed it just to out-cool the lawyer ice queen.

  “Regardless, he may have some claim on the car because you two were going to enter an arrangement of marriage wherein he would be half owner of all your possessions. What did you do with the ring?”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your goddamn—” Aston burst out.

  Again, I held up my hand. “I gave it back. Not in person. I didn’t want anything left of him, which is why I sold the car. I wanted a fresh start.”

  Sheila took another sip of wine and looked at me flatly. “I suggest you settle. Give him the money he’s owed in cash. If this goes to court—and like I said, I am not familiar with Rhode Island property laws—it could cost you a lot more than just half the money from the sale of the vehicle if you lose.”

  I glanced down at my fingernails, not wanting to meet her eye. I fidgeted with my cuticle. “Well, I don’t have the money anymore,” I began.

  “Well what about the buyer? Can you come to an arrangement with—”

  “I’m the buyer,” said Aston.

  I clenched my eyes shut. I didn’t want to muddy the waters with how the car factored into our relationship, but I supposed that Sheila had to find out if she was going to give us advice regarding the possibility of a fraud charge.

  Sheila pinched the top of her nose in frustration. “Were you involved with her before you bought the car?”

  “No,” Aston said. “It’s how we met.”

  Shelia’s graceful façade fell away as her teeth clenched around her next words. “Were there other promises made in the purchase of the car?”

  My eyes flew open. The deal that I go on a date with him. Could that be brought up in a court of law? “I don’t see how—”

  Sheila snorted, interrupting me. “Let me guess, he bought a date with you.”

  My mouth hung open. “I—”

  The woman stood. “Seriously, Aston? You’re still playing the free dessert and a date with me game?”

  “Dessert?” I asked.

  Aston hung his head. “Sheila, it’s not like that.”

  Sheila took a step toward me. “Do you know how Aston used to get all the girls who came into his restaurants? He’d tell them there was a fancy, off-menu dessert. Something rich, chocolaty, and irresistible. Then, he’d note that the price of it was also off-menu—a date with him. Nobody could resist. I’m guessing you’re included.”

  Aston forcefully set his wineglass on the table and stood. “I think we’re done here,” he said. “And I think it’s safe to say we won’t be taking you up on your offer to stay the night.”

  The words seized in my chest. She’d offered for us to sleep there? Was she planning on getting him away from me? Did he get the invite by making her a free-dessert-type offer?

  “Sheila, thank you for extending us your limited legal advice. Aston and I will leave you now,” I said. Aston followed behind me, cowed, as Sheila seethed.

  “You don’t exactly seem the type who would eat at his restaurants, so I must have gotten it wrong,” she shouted after us. “You’re probably just a waitress he was banging.”

  I snapped, turning around. “Actually, Aston spent a half million on my car—a car I restored myself—and he expressed a need for the company of a strong woman like me.” I straightened, using my model height to loom over her scrawny ass. “As a pinup model, I get lots of offers for dates. Free desserts, if you will. But Aston looked like he needed to be taken down a peg, so I thought I could teach him a lesson. And he’s still learning.” I reached over and pet him on the head. Her mouth dropped. We turned and exited without another word.

  The ride into Denver proper from the suburbs was far more silent than the ride to Sheila’s house. I was feeling so many things—I was mortified, but emboldened. I’d won some ground, but I’d also lost some. The whole way, I plotted Aston’s punishment of both atonement and pleasure. He’d both impressed me and disappointed me tonight, and he had to know. I think he suspected, since he drove white-knuckled and with nervous glances in my direction.

  “Find us a hotel room in the city. One with a view,” I said. With a nod, Aston continued to drive. I nearly heard his knees knocking together. More quiet minutes passed and the city of Denver’s lights ghosted the horizon.

  Aston picked the first hotel we drove past—a simple Marriott—and parked the car himself. He knew he was in the dog house and acted accordingly. I felt a pang of sympathy for him. We exited the car and journeyed to the desk and subsequently to our room with little pomp. The midrange hotel was frill-less but had a stunning view of the city from its perimeter.

  The room was basic—bland and tan and hunter green—and I set my things in the bedroom and his on the floor.

  “Strip, then walk to the window,” I said, voice quiet, betraying no emotion. Sarah’s lesson couldn’t have come at a better time. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Aston needed this today. I needed it. I had to wield my power like a shield tonight to protect me from all the complicated emotions I was feeling after that awful visit. Aston undressed, and I watched his unease with each awkward unbutton and rumple of fabric. He walked to the window. The middle was wide-open, exposed to the city, while the edges of the large window hid the room with gossamer. Aston chose to stand behind the gauzy drapes since we were only around ten floors up.

  “Stand in the middle of the window, facing out,” I said, turning on the lights. He was naked, backlit, and facing the entire city. A bead of sweat formed on the nape of his neck. I watched his beautiful form, his finely sculpted muscles, and his clenched buttocks for a full minute before I spoke.

  “Why are you standing naked before an entire city?” I asked, sitting on the bed and continuing to watch his back.

  “Because you asked me to, Mistress,” he replied, voice hoarse.

  “And why would I ask you to do such a thing?”

  He paused. “Because you can.”

  I tsked and stood, stalking up to him like a cat. “Because you’re exposed, Aston. Which is exactly what I felt at your ex-girlfriend’s house. You gave me no history of how you two had met, offered no information on the woman who would be hearing personal information about me, and you didn’t even tell me she’d offered for us to stay there. Or that you’d agreed. I was embarrassed, Aston. I didn’t like
how she made me feel.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you didn’t mean for it to go as wrong as it did, but you left me vulnerable.”

  He shook his head. “Sheila and I were the only vulnerable ones in that room. You’re a Domme, Veronika. You’re powerful and intimidating as fuck. How would you feel if your ex brought a knockout dominant into your home so you could do them a favor? And how did you think I must have felt, being unable to help you to the point where I had to ask my ex for assistance? You were the only one in that room with any power, Mistress. I’m sorry that you were uncomfortable, so please take your discomfort out on me.”

  I brought my hand hard across Aston’s perfect behind. “Since you asked so nicely. . . .” Thwack. I hit him hard again with my palm.

  “Green,” he breathed.

  I stepped away from him, stalking around the room for things to use. I was still angry at him, but he’d made a good point. He had a talent for reframing things and making them sound better than they were. Perhaps it was part of his arrogance, the idea that of course he was right; he was always right. It very well could be the part of him that was arrogant enough to trade dates for chocolate cake or hot cars. But right now, he was mine.

  I untied the sashes that held the hotel curtains pinned to the walls, then walked up to Aston, who continued to flash the city of Denver. He was erect.

  “So proud of your cock that you’re displaying it for millions?” I asked, grabbing it and giving it a hard stroke.

  “Yes, Mistress,” he said.

  “Put your hands above your head,” I whispered. Using the curtain sash, I bound his wrists together and then stood on tiptoe and threw the end of the rope around the curtain rod. I licked the soft flesh of his neck as his arms were hoisted far above his head. His body trembled as I walked to the second window and pulled the cord of its drapes.

  This time, I wound it around Aston’s eyes, blindfolding him. “Now you can’t see how many people are looking up at you and your hard dick,” I whispered. “You’ll have no idea who is gawking from other buildings or from the street.” There didn’t seem to be any onlookers, but it didn’t matter. My hand stroked his cock once more, and he let out a whimper.

  “Do what you want with me, Mistress,” was his only reply.

  Good.

  I sauntered over to the light switch and flipped it off. I’d bound his eyes tight, and he didn’t flinch or move, so perhaps he thought the light was still on. Piece by piece, I peeled my clothing off, wanting to be naked and wild while I punished my dirty playboy. I continued to search the room for more items with which to give Aston proper punishment. All I could find was a television remote, some local magazines, and a thick binder with information on room service, takeout menus, and channel listings.

  I rolled one of the magazines into a tight wand and gave him a quick slap across the thighs. Aston jumped, then quickly settled. I didn’t realize how stealthily I had snuck up on him. Another hard slap and he yelped.

  “Should I gag you?” I asked.

  He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head no, as I brought down the rolled magazine on the front of his upper thigh. Aston moaned. “Green.”

  I fluttered light touches across his hips, juxtaposing the pain with pleasure, and he wiggled and writhed there in front of the dark city. It was past midnight and everywhere lights were winking out. I ran my tongue up his chest and positioned myself between him and the window, pressing my naked body against his.

  “Can they see you, too?” he asked in a nervous whisper.

  “Does it matter?” I asked coyly.

  Aston shook his head. “No, Mistress.”

  “Good boy.” I put the binder at my feet, giving me just a few more inches to try to manage my feat. On careful tiptoes, I wrapped my legs around Aston’s hip, pushing my ass back against the window and holding me up. Aston gasped in shock as he felt my wetness rub against his cock.

  “You’re not allowed to come. This is for me,” I lectured, using my hand to push his body into mine. His thickness felt instantly soothing, satisfying my body so primally that my head forgot the hurt of the day. I used my leverage to thrust all the way down upon him, then bob slightly up and down. Aston took the cue and began to rock his hips in time with mine, fucking me against the window. I felt so exposed there, with my spread ass pushed against the glass as Aston’s hard cock plunged in and out of me, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was him and his beautiful submission, and here he was, fucking me in front of a city of millions, all because I wanted him to. It didn’t matter that I was from the bad side of town and that he was the richest person I’d ever met, we were equal here, in this bedroom, and neither of us cared who saw. It was the ultimate show of my dominance, humbling him here like this. And he submitted to me, allowing me to humiliate him, hurt him, and then please him, all with nothing but a clear glass window separating us from the city below.

  The thought, along with the perfect rocking of Aston’s hips rubbing against my clit, had me coming hard, gasping his name into his ear. I saw him smile, and it didn’t fade as I dismounted him. That, I realized, was submission. He was happy even if he was still painfully erect and naked in front of a window. I untied him, pressing kisses against his wrists as I unwound the fabric. I also removed his makeshift blindfold and cupped his face in my hands.

  “I forgive you.”

  “Hey beauty queen, forgive me for the lack of instructions today but I’ve got this new sub who’s positively exhausting me. What an animal! Dirty TMI deets later. As for your workout, I want you to do some abs for your swimsuit competition. They’re called standing C crunches. Stand on your tiptoes with your arms in the air and then make a C with your right arm and right leg, then switch. Do as many as you can until your obliques want to jump off your body.”

  So it dawned on me that I need to start preparing for this dang pageant. So much of my time on the road had been wrapped up in other things—my legal troubles, my budding relationship, and Aston’s warm, strong arms.

  I had to focus on me, and not dwell on the bad things, but rather the good things that were coming up in my life. I was making a change, for goodness’ sake, a change for the better. Regardless of what was going to happen with Aston or what was going on with fucking Derek, I was going to Las Vegas to prove myself. To show off what I’ve learned. To get my model on.

  “So I want to do a photo shoot today,” I said to Aston as I drove. We were trekking from Denver to Salt Lake City. While we’d wanted to spend some time seeing the Denver sights, the incident with Sheila had put a damper on our time there. Besides, we saw enough of it last night from the bedroom window.

  “A photo shoot?” Aston asked, raising an eyebrow. “Trust me, there’s nothing more I’d want to see than you doing some poses, but I’m not exactly the most talented photographer.”

  I waved my hand dismissively. “It’s just practice for the pageant,” I said, silently feeling nervous about how I would perform. I barely knew anything about this particular contest—all I knew was the date, that I’d made it into their lineup, and that I’d have to be on point with my hair, makeup, and styling.

  “So, what exactly do you have to do?” Aston asked. “I mean, is this a Miss Congeniality thing or what? Cause I say you just bust out your crop and get the judges in line.”

  That loosened me up. I laughed hard, possibly for the first time in days. I’d been wound up so tight that I was a mess of stiff neck muscles and a sore ass from driving so long. “I think it’s time to do some Googling. Get on it, hot stuff.”

  Aston smiled and grabbed his phone. He typed wildly for a minute or so, brow furrowed in concentration, and then looked up at me. “Well, looks like you’re going to have to practice more than just photos,” he said, then bit his thick lip. “It says here that there’s a talent component, a swimsuit show, and an evening wear segment.”

 
My mouth fell open. Shit, I really had just thought this was going to be straight-up modeling. “Well, I’ve got the swimsuit and evening gown,” I said, feeling panic creep up my throat. “But a talent? Oh god.”

  Aston patted me on the shoulder. “I’ve only known you a week and change, but you seem pretty good at a lot of things in my book.”

  I frowned, adjusting my horn-rimmed sunglasses. “Being a Domme isn’t something I could show off, you know. This is a family event.”

  He thought for a minute, and I had to look away from him. I didn’t want to engage in this conversation right now—what was I good at? It was humbling, realizing that I didn’t have a specific skill that would help me win this competition.

  Suddenly a sound caught my attention and I jerked my head around.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded with a smile. “Heard a nineteen sixty-one Chevelle. Check it out,” I said, bobbing my head to the left, where a gorgeous yellow blur sped past.

  Aston blinked. “You could tell what make it was?”

  I nodded. “Just turn it on, and I’ll know,” I said, tapping my ear. “Can’t carry a tune to save my life, but I’ve got a killer ear.”

  “Every part of you is killer,” he said, staring at me, lost in thought.

  “Don’t worry about the talent, Mistress. It will come to you.”

  He started furiously typing into his phone, intermittently glancing up at me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” he said.

  It was a lie. “Come on.”

  He shrugged. “I’m arranging something.”

  “Come on,” I said, trying to snatch it away from him and still drive. “We still need to brainstorm.”

  He shook his head. “We don’t, just trust me.”

  I groaned. “Do I have to make this an order?”

  “It’s a surprise, Mistress. Just go to the show, and trust me. I’ve got it.”

  My breath sucked from my chest. “What do you mean, ‘I’ve got it ’ ? Aston, I’d like to win this thing and I think I’d need to know what freakin’ talent I’m performing onstage in front of judges and hundreds of people.” I couldn’t manage to keep the annoyance from my voice.