How to Reprimand Your Rock Star (DommeNation #2) (7 page)

But it’s not. So I let her continue.

“
This
is called BDSM. But I think we’ll stick to the basics for now—dominance and submission. Power play. And you, my dear, hold the power.”

I breathed in deep, letting her words fill the spaces between my desires. “So, does that make me a dominatrix?” I asked.

She clicked her tongue. “Does he plan on paying you?”

“No!” I said then hesitated. “I don’t think so.”

Scarlett nodded. “I’m a dominatrix, a professional who gets paid to entertain submissive men. You, my dear, would be a Domme—a dominant woman who enjoys when people submit to her. Similar, but different enough.”

I nodded, soaking in the lingo.

“So what’s Keaton?” I asked, shocked at myself for letting the name slip.

She didn’t react to the name. Discretion must be part of this secret club or otherwise everyone would know each other’s kinky secrets out there in the regular world.

“He’s a submissive, or a sub. Although by the sound of his personality, he may be a switch. He may want to top you at one point.”

“I’m always going to be on top?” I asked. This BDSM stuff was hard. I didn’t know I’d go into it with a position in mind. Oh dear, I was thinking about sexual positions now. Then again, what else should I expect from my thoughts while I was in a sex shop. A kinky one at that.

She giggled and rifled through her desk. “No, top is your position of power. He’s a bottom, but what I think may happen is that he may want to turn the tables on you at some point. He sounds complicated, and sometimes that means they want things and then they want something else entirely. Does that interest you, switching?”

I shook my head. “I like feeling in control.”

She handed me a book but kept our eyes locked. “Then if he ever brings it up, tell him so. You should buy this and read it. It explains all the basics of our world.”

Our world
. The words tingled in my mind. I did feel like I was entering a new world after I passed through that curtain. One of leather and whips and tops and bottoms, nothing familiar but all enticing.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “Can I come back? Maybe after I see him? Or possibly before, considering our next date is in a couple of weeks.”

“Of course. I think you’re going to enjoy yourself, but you still have a lot to learn. Come see me anytime. In fact,” she said, pulling out a card, “text me if you have any questions in the meantime.”

I was suspicious for a moment—she was being almost too nice. I paid for my kinky wares and took her card.

I picked up my bag of goodies and stuffed it into my backpack, a reminder of my ordinary world . . . one of books and basketball. Shit, some awful practices coming up.
Chapel Hill means
more than just Keaton,
I had to remind myself. Basketball was my entire raison d’être.

Scarlett let out a throaty laugh at my discretion. “Go get ‘em!”

Before heading back to my dorm, I took a quick detour to the gym for some extra reps in the weight room. I had been working out with the team regularly, but a few additional sets wouldn’t hurt. I had to be in top form. Maybe tonight I’d try for some extra sleep, too. And skip the late-night pizza we order all too often.

When I arrived back at the dorm room, Callie was all dolled up in snakeskin-print skinny jeans and a tight black top.

“Where are you going?” I asked, curious that she’d be slathering on lipstick instead of preparing for the game.

“The real question is why aren’t you dressed yet?” she asked incredulously, eyeing my casual gear. I dropped my book bag and its secret cargo and shrugged.

“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 possess 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.