Schooled by T. M. Chris

Author:T. M. Chris [Chris, T. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Kelvin had done super well this week. His fiery ass was a constant reminder that Grant was counting on him to do his work, and he slept like a baby at night after jerking it to the memory of how close he’d come to blowing his load all over Grant’s leg. He was excited to turn in a perfect report card for the week, until he realized what that would mean.

He’d done so well he wasn’t going to get a spanking at all. But then next week would be a fuck-up. Whoever had designed this study hadn’t known what they were doing, at least when it came to him, because every time he succeeded, he set himself up for failure again. It wasn’t fair.

So at the last minute, as he sat on the chairs in the reception room waiting for Grant to finish up with that woman who had the appointment before his, he got out his task list, rewrote it onto a fresh sheet of paper, wadded the old one into a ball, and made a nice arc shot into the trashcan next to Mynna’s desk. She looked up from whatever she’d been reading just enough to frown at him. On the new list, he didn’t check off anything. Then on second thought, he checked off one thing. Two things. He had to make it look believable but also bad enough to rack up a spanking that would really hurt. A spanking that would last him all week.

Sometimes he thought that if he could just have two spankings a week, he could be an A student. And other times he thought he’d gotten a little obsessed with this spanking thing and it might not be good or healthy. Grant was an authority figure, after all. Should Kelvin really be jerking off to being beaten by him every night? Because that was what he’d been doing.

He squirmed as he waited, wishing his ass burned with that blistering day-after heat. There was something so invigorating and supportive about it. Maybe other people would find it difficult to sit, would find the pain a distraction, but Kelvin’s brain was wired differently and having his ass hurt quelled his restless. Sort of like playing with a fidget spinner so he could concentrate on a lecture. One part of his brain was occupied with his sore ass, and that left the rest of his brain free to concentrate.

But sitting in the ugly orange chair without any pain at all, he felt squirrelly, hating that Grant was spanking some woman and uncertain about the way he’d faked the list he was going to hand in. But he had to. Otherwise, Grant would just pat him on the head and tell him he was a good boy and send him on his way. The awful part was that he really wanted Grant to pat him on his head and tell him he was a good boy. And then spank the shit out of him anyway.

The rough slide of his ass against the chair reminded him he wasn’t wearing boxers today.

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