Schooled

by T M Chris

  “I think I want more ritual to it,” he told Taylor. “It would help me more if it was a bigger thing.” He didn’t know how to explain it exactly, but the closer he came to getting all his work done, the shorter his time with Grant was, and the more he felt like not even getting his work done to force Grant into lengthening their session, into making it more like that first time when he’d cried so hard and Grant had patted his rump and told him it was okay.

  “So ask for what you need,” Taylor said with a shrug. “Mr. Fontaine seems like a good guy.”

  “Do you like your guy?”

  “What’s to like? He slaps my ass when I fuck up. Dude, I don’t know.” Taylor shook his head. “You’re developing a weird codependent relationship with Mr. Fontaine over this. Maybe you shouldn’t be in that study. It doesn’t seem healthy.”

  And with that, Taylor picked up his tray and left. Taylor didn’t like talking about what the two of them had in common as much as Kelvin did. Taylor would probably rather Kelvin didn’t talk about it at all, but Kelvin had to talk to someone. Because what if Taylor was right? What if his relationship with Grant was fucked up?

  Kelvin ate his meal slowly. He was scheduled to see Grant that afternoon, and there were a lot of things on his list he hadn’t checked off, despite having had the time and even the motivation to do them. The list made it super easy to stay organized because every task had a priority and a number of spanks assigned to it. All he had to do was start at the top and work his way down. But he’d been slacking this week, and he was pretty sure it was intentional because he wanted the more he’d been trying to talk to Taylor about—the something missing that grew bigger as his punishment got smaller.

  Chapter 7

  “I’m disappointed,” Grant said after he’d reviewed Kelvin’s list. “I thought we were making progress.”

  Kelvin shrugged, trying not to let Grant’s disappointment pierce him straight through.

  “Was there something particular going on this week?”

  Kelvin shrugged again. Grant sighed and put down the list.

  “Come here.”

  Kelvin cocked his head. Usually Grant tallied up how many spanks he had coming first, but Grant had moved his chair away from the table, shifting it into the position that meant it was time for spanking. Kelvin rose slowly to his feet and went over to him.

  “Get those pants down,” Grant said, not sounding at all in the mood to deal with him being difficult. Kelvin undid his pants and let them drop, then laid himself across Grant’s lap. His dick was still soft, but it was already getting there. It liked stern Grant.

  Grant didn’t give him any warning or warmup, just laid into him a mile a minute, slapping his hand down in a volley of stinging spanks that had Kelvin gasping. Grant really meant it today, and Kelvin didn’t even know how many he was in for. He tried to count them as they came, one after another, as his ass heated up to the fiery level where even a touch was a torture. And still they kept coming.

  “Please,” he gasped out through the tears that’d started to fall. He didn’t know what he was asking for, but the blows stopped. Grant stood him on his feet. Kelvin reached for his pants, but Grant stopped him.

  “You’re not done yet. In fact, we haven’t even started. That was just to get you to talk. Now, talk. What the hell is going on with you this week?”

  “I don’t know.” Kelvin cried harder because he couldn’t explain it.

  “Kelvin.” Grant sighed. He pulled Kelvin forward into his lap, but on top of it rather than over it, so he was cradling him in his arms. “I thought we were making progress.”

  “We were.”

  “So talk to me about why we’re going backwards.”

  “I just want…”

  This. This felt like what he’d wanted and couldn’t put into words. Grant was acting like he cared, like it was more than a job to him. And Kelvin’s ass was so sore, lit up by way more than five or ten slaps. He would be feeling this tomorrow, the way he’d felt that first session, so that every time he sat down to work he would remember why it was important to get the work done.

  “What do you want?” Grant asked, like he would give it to him if he knew.

  Kelvin shook his head. He still couldn’t say it.

  Grant shifted like he was about to dump Kelvin off his lap. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

  “No!” He clung to Grant, hugging him so Grant couldn’t let him go.

  Grant kissed the top of his head, a warm press of lips against his hair. “Kelvin, Kelvin. What am I going to do with you?”

  “Spank me?”

  Grant laughed. “Should I?”

  “It was helping. I’m sorry I fucked up this week. I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know.” Grant sounded like he really did understand that Kelvin didn’t fuck up on purpose. “So what more do you need?”

  Kelvin squirmed. He wanted to ask Grant to do it on his bare bottom, but Grant would probably say no. This was a school building, and Grant was a TA, working on a study Kelvin was a subject of. It wasn’t supposed to be about sex, and Kelvin couldn’t explain why having his ass spanked bare would make him behave any better.

  “Just do it harder,” he said finally, unable to ask for what he really needed. Maybe if Grant spanked him hard enough, made it hurt enough, a switch would flip in his brain and he would stop seeing the punishment as Grant taking care of him, as Grant loving him. Maybe then the punishment would do what it was supposed to do—make him want to avoid it.

  “I’ll do my best,” Grant agreed. “You’re in for thirty today, so it’s going to heat up even if I don’t go hard.”

  “That’s okay.” He slid off Grant’s lap and arranged himself back over it, in that familiar position that thrust his ass up there where Grant could hit it and left his head dangling so all the blood rushed into it. Well, into his head and that other spot, the one that was the primary reason he kept getting his signals mixed. Like, was this bad and he should prevent it? Or good and he should seek it out?

  Right now, it was good. His re-hardening cock was smooshed up against Grant’s thigh and his abdomen was draped right over Grant’s lap where he liked to imagine Grant’s cock getting hard too, somewhere behind all that corduroy. His ass was pleasantly warm from all the wailing Grant had already done on it, twitchy like it was asking for more, and Grant’s hand ran lovingly over his cheeks, scoping out its target.

  The first smack came hard—as hard as Kelvin had asked for. All the air rushed out of him on an oomph as the impact drove the head of his cock right into Grant’s leg. Fuck, that was so good. So wrong but so good. He pushed back to meet the next blow, humping Grant’s leg with the motion, getting more and more turned on as the heat rose in his ass, the sting becoming almost unbearable and yet also necessary. He lost track of the count, only knowing that he needed it. He was almost there. He could come like this, and he was about to as he drove back to meet Grant’s hand and then in to hump his leg, his cock screaming from the friction, his ass screaming from the sharp cracks of pain—

  And then Grant stopped.

  “Noooo!” Kelvin whined, still humping Grant’s leg in frenzied need. He was so close. So close to something, and he didn’t even know what. Orgasm or complete meltdown or his ass going supernova.

  Grant stood up, dumping him to the ground. He backed away, breathing heavily. “I think that’s enough for today.”

  “That wasn’t thirty,” Kelvin accused, though he’d been too lost in the experience to count.

  “It’s enough.” Grant ran a hand through his hair, dislodging his bun. His hair spilled down like a curtain, but Kelvin could still see his face. It was pink and a little sweaty. “I let that get out of hand.”

  Kelvin shook his head. “I asked for it.” He pulled up his pants and fastened his fly. He was coming down a little—remembering where he was and who Grant was and that it wasn’t supposed to be about sex, though he was pretty sure Grant had been into that too. Those corduroys had been f
lat-front earlier, but the front wasn’t flat now.

  “You’ll be feeling that all week,” Grant said. “You should, um, put some ice on it or something.”

  “The pain focuses me. You went too light last week.”

  “Is that what went wrong?” Grant asked, sounding relieved. “You were doing so good. I thought you’d be glad for a light spanking.”

  “I was.” He’d been proud to have done well, but then the rest of the week hadn’t gone well. “But maybe I need more motivation than that.”

  Grant pursed his lips, no longer coming across as either flustered or aroused. He scooped his hair back up into its customary bun and fastened it with the tie around his wrist. “I can’t just hit you for no reason though,” he said. “That wouldn’t match the parameters of the study. If you get your tasks done, you don’t get a spanking. That’s how it’s supposed to work.”

  Kelvin wasn’t aroused anymore either. Now he just felt rejected, reminded that he was only a subject to Grant. The cradling and kissing hadn’t meant anything. The extra intensity of the spanking had been a passing favor. Even in a study designed to help losers who couldn’t get their act together, Kelvin was an extra loser—beyond what even the study could manage.

  He turned for the door, determined never to come back again. Fuck Grant and this study. He would find another way. Or he’d just drop out of school altogether.

  “Kelvin.” Grant grabbed him as he tried to slide past. “I want to help you. I really do. You’ll be back next week, right?”

  “Maybe,” Kelvin said with an insolent shrug, but he raised his eyes to meet Grant’s, and what he saw there made him relent. “Probably.”

  “Good.” Grant squeezed his arm. “You’re important. To the study,” he added after a brief hesitation. “I really want you to come back.”

  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. He’d dared himself into a jockstrap this morning while fantasizing about Grant raining sharp spanks down on his naked flesh, but his list had been all checked off then. His jockstrap was going to stay hidden under his pants, and it would only be a dream.

  But then he’d gone and made that new list, the one that would definitely earn him a spanking. Grant would order him to take his pants down, and there would be Kelvin’s ass hanging out. Not to mention that he wouldn’t even marginally be able to disguise his erection in a jockstrap. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

  He was in the process of trying to figure out how to retrieve the checked-off list from Mynna’s wastebasket when the door to the back opened and Grant came out with that woman, guiding her into the room with a hand on her back. She looked like she’d been crying, but Grant didn’t seem flustered the way he had after he’d finished spanking Kelvin last week.

  “Hey, Kelvin. Come on back. I’m ready for you.”

  “Don’t you need to walk her out?” He could see his list—lying right on top of what looked like the remains of Mynna’s lunch. Between his crumpling and her ketchup, the list wasn’t going to be pretty, but if Kelvin turned in that empty one…

  “I think she can make it out the door.” The sound of the door shutting behind her proved Grant right.

  “Um.” Kelvin hesitated. He could grab the list, make up a story about how it got into the wastebasket. Or he could get what he truly wanted, which was Grant’s hand cracking down on his bare ass. He wouldn’t have had the courage to set this up on purpose, but his habit of fucking up one thing after another until it became a clusterfuck of unfixable proportions was working in his favor today. This clusterfuck was going to be good.

  “Don’t tell me it’s bad,” Grant said, misunderstanding Kelvin’s hesitation.

  “It’s pretty bad.” He extended his list—the one with only two items checked, and Grant took it as they walked into the room made of cinderblock and featuring that blind-covered window.

  “Kelvin.” Grant shook his head as he sat in what Kelvin had come to think of as his spanking chair. Kelvin remained on his feet, eager to get to the spanking part. “I’m really disappointed by this. You said if I hit you harder last week, it would work better.”

  “It did,” Kelvin insisted. “It worked great for a day or two, but, see, I think I need more regular sessions.”

  Grant looked doubtful.

  “I swear!” Shit. His brilliant plan was backfiring, as his brilliant plans typically did. “Wait.” He retrieved the list from Grant. “I think I forgot to check off some things I actually did.” He pulled a pencil out of his backpack and checked off a couple more boxes. “I did those. I can prove it if you want.” He really had done them.

  Damn, this was hard to balance. If he didn’t check off enough things, Grant would think the spankings weren’t working. If he checked off too many, he wouldn’t get enough of a spanking to last through the week. And all the while, there was a jockstrap lurking under his pants. What would Grant think about that?

  “You’re really a problem, you know that?”

  Kelvin hung his head. He was a problem. He did know it.

  “No, wait, I didn’t mean it so bad like that. Come on.” Grant drew Kelvin into his lap like he had last time, and Kelvin took the first full breath he’d taken all week. This was where he needed to be—in the stern arms of someone who cared about him enough to discipline him. “I just meant that I have my own conflicts when it comes to you. I want to give you what you need, but I’m trying to stick to the study.”

  “The study says I should get a
spanking,” Kelvin mumbled into the warmth of Grant’s chest. Where was the conflict?

  “Then let’s do that.” Grant kissed the top of his head and set him back on his feet. “How many do you deserve this week?”

  “Probably thirty.” That was how many he’d had last week, and it’d felt damned good. Almost enough. “Or maybe a little more than that?”

  “Thirty sounds right. Go on and take your pants down.”

  Kelvin reached for his fly, moving slowly because he knew what he was about to unveil. He lowered his zipper, exposing the electric blue of his jock and started to slide his pants down over his hips. He liked the way the jock snuggled his package into a nice bulge—a bulge that was already starting to grow in anticipation. Grant had been watching him, but he glanced away as the bulge came into view and cleared his throat like he was about to say something.

  Kelvin paused, waiting, but when Grant continued to stare at the wall as if there were a movie playing over there, he went ahead and let his pants slide the rest of the way down. Grant still wasn’t looking at him, so he got himself into position over Grant’s lap, feeling that snug pouch get snugger as it made contact with the warmth of Grant’s body.

  An audible gasp filled the quiet of the room, followed by complete silence and then a small noise, like Grant was choking something back. Seconds ticked past as Kelvin held his breath, waiting to see what Grant would say or do until he felt the light trace of one of Grant’s fingers running under the elastic framing his right ass cheek.

  “Kelvin,” Grant said, making it sound almost like a groan. “We can’t.”

  “It’s my underwear,” Kelvin said gruffly. He wanted this so bad. “Just like always. You spank me on my underwear.”

  Grant’s finger continued to toy with the elastic, sliding back and forth beneath it, and then he snapped it. Kelvin jumped, even though the twang of elastic was nothing compared to a spanking. It’d been unexpected, that was all.