Chrissy
It felt so good to be in Greyson’s arms. I still had the strong urge inside me to press my lips to his—to try and get him to kiss me back—but I promised him that I wouldn’t. I had to keep that promise. My confession sent my panties to the floor, but it wasn’t because he wanted me. I had been spanked—like I had deserved for a really long time. My ass was stinging and hurting with heat radiating from the surface. It served as a reminder of why I had been spanked, even after the punishment was done. It was what I asked for and I got what I truly needed—finally. I just had to find a way to carve out my new existence underneath stricter rules and a positive influence—or else.
“I’m going to go downstairs and make some breakfast.” Greyson leaned back from our embrace. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and join me?”
“You’re—making breakfast?” I blinked in surprise.
“Yeah, I don’t feel like calling the chef right now.” He shrugged. “I’m sure I can still remember how to scramble some eggs and burn some bacon.”
“I’m sure they’ll be wonderful.” I smiled and stood to my feet.
I waited until Greyson was downstairs and then I went to the bathroom. The first thing I did was strip off my pajama top and inspect my ass in the mirror. The redness was slowly starting to fade. It didn’t feel like there would be any bruises and he certainly didn’t keep me over his knee long enough to leave blisters, but it was still painful. I decided to go for a shower instead of a bath. If he was making breakfast, I didn’t have time to waste blowing bubbles in the soapy water. Normally, I liked a hot shower, but that wasn’t going to fe
el very good, so I left enough chill in the shower to soothe my bottom without amplifying the burn.
There we go. That feels good…
The first spanking Greyson gave me wasn’t true discipline. It was a little more playful and it left my panties wet. The one I had just received wasn’t playful, but there was still something about the experience that left me with a lingering sense of sexual euphoria. It wasn’t just the spanking. It was the way he took control—the way he talked to me—the firmness in his voice. It was the ability to just give in and trust him completely, even when I knew that it was going to hurt. My hand moved to down to my clit and I rubbed it until a hard knot formed against my finger. I was going to have to cum—it was the only way to release the pent up desire inside me that craved more from Greyson than discipline.
Even if we don’t have a relationship that crosses the line, the desire isn’t gone—I’ll just have to satisfy those urges myself…
I rubbed my clit until the pressure built beyond the point that I could control it. I stifled a moan once the endorphins sent pleasure shooting through my veins. It wasn’t as intense as the climax I got when the jets were doing most of the work, but the edge was gone. I finished my shower, dried off, and got ready to go downstairs for breakfast. My head was still spinning from the mixture of pleasure and pain, but I intended to keep my promise to Greyson. I would hold the attraction on my side of the line and never cross it, because I needed a Daddy more than I craved his touch. Maybe that was just a lie that I was telling myself.
I’ll keep saying it until I convince myself that it’s true. Greyson won’t give me what I want, but he’s willing to give me what I need—I can fill in the rest when I’m alone…
A few hours later
The new dynamic was certainly different. I felt a simmer in the air when I was with Greyson before I made the mistake of trying to kiss him. He had a certain look in his eyes—a lingering desire that he was afraid to embrace—the same look that smoldered beneath my sky-blue orbs. Instead of seeing that stare when I looked his way, I was faced with the new reality that our letters had brought to life. It was loving and tender, but there was no hint of passion. I didn’t totally understand what I was seeing when he was fighting off his attraction, but I certainly noticed the difference when the door was completely shut.
“Do you have all of your clothes picked out for school tomorrow?” Greyson looked over at me.
“I guess.” I shrugged. “I’ll just grab something from the closet.”
“Let’s make sure.” He stood and motioned for me to follow him. “I don’t want you to run late because you can’t find your favorite shirt.”
“Okay, sounds good.” I nodded and followed Greyson upstairs to my room.
“I’ve never really put much thought into what I wear.” I opened my closet and pulled out a few t-shirts.
“Do you own anything other than t-shirts?” Greyson looked past me into the closet.
“What’s wrong with t-shirts?” I titled my head slightly.
“Nothing, but you want to make a good first impression. The professors notice when the students care. There’s more to that than sitting in the front row and being attentive.” Greyson chuckled.
“Yeah—I’m more of a back row kind of student.” I looked down at the floor and smiled.
“Not anymore.” Greyson shook his head back and forth. “This is the new you—remember?”
“Right…” I raised an eyebrow. “I guess I can sit in the front row.”
“Come on, we’re going shopping.” Greyson closed my closet door. “You need some new clothes.”
“What? No. I can’t afford that…” I stared at him and shook my head.
“You’re not paying.” He stopped and turned back towards me. “You need some professional clothes, a few nice tops—maybe something to wear besides jeans. This isn’t high school anymore. The old dress for success phrase applies to more than job interviews. Some of your professors have contacts in the Sports Management world—you want them to speak highly of you if anyone ever asks…”
“They’ll speak highly of me if I don’t show up in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans?” I tilted my head slightly.