“Sir?” I ask.
“Yes, princess?” he asks.
“I was just…” I don’t mean for it to happen but I just burst into tears. I just blubber like a kindergartner instead of being even-tempered and behaving like an adult.
Instantly, Sir’s arms are around me.
That’s another thing I love about this man. Despite his sternness. Despite his no-nonsense approach to everything and his refusal to allow me to dismiss my responsibilities; he is the most comforting presence in my life. I don’t just mean the way rules that are unbending are comforting. Hell, I’m constantly amazed at how much comfort I find in his rules, how somehow the fact that I have rules in place that drive me toward being the best person I can make me feel safe and happy.
But he doesn’t just comfort me by ensuring I am responsible. He doesn’t just comfort me by keeping the consequences of my actions front of mind. No. He comforts me by holding me when what I need more than anything is just to cry. He comforts me as I weep and when I feel overwhelmed. He comforts me because he knows I have emotions and I’m not just some kind of robot who can go through life as though tasks and responsibilities are all I can manage to fit inside of my silly little head.
He strokes my hair and finally says, “They’ll see it someday, little pumpkin.”
Little pumpkin. He calls me that lately because I bought a bunch of sugar pumpkins and I’m actually making pumpkin pie from scratch. It seems so warm and sweet, just like a pumpkin pie right out of the oven. I stop weeping but sniffling, I say, “Sir, I took all those online classes to learn how to cook this dinner. I made so many practice dishes and…” I sigh and say, “and it was all a waste.”
He kisses my forehead and pushes me back a little bit so he can look at my face. “It’s not a waste at all because now you know how to cook a fantastic Thanksgiving dinner and you know how to cook things that don’t even have to be just for Thanksgiving.” He kisses my forehead and asks, “Can you really expect your parents to understand you’re different now?”
I sigh and shake my head. “No. But what I think and how I feel are two different things.”
He smiles and nods. “And what you think and what you feel and how you act make three different things.”
I giggle and say, “What if I think I want to screw you right now and I feel horny and I’m about to act on it?”
He laughs and lifts me in the air. I gasp as he just sets me on the kitchen counter and yanks my pants down. “Sir!” I cry as my always-stinging ass cheeks protest. He looks at me as he slowly unbuckles his belt and I really think the predatory look in his eyes has to be the sexiest fucking thing in the world. I lean forward to reach for his cock but he bats my hands away.
“Listen, little pumpkin princess,” he says. “You’re not going to do a damned thing. You’re going to let me take care of everything.”
I moan plaintively as his pants go down and he steps out of them. When his boxers join his pants on the floor, I get breathless. A moment later, though, I shriek, “Sir!” because his mouth closes over my pussy and his tongue thrusts into me.
When he cums a while later and I’m in the throes of my orgasm as well, I send a number of prayers up toward Heaven. They can all be summed up as me pointing out that there’s nothing that can fill me with thanksgiving more than giving Sir a baby.
CHAPTER FIVE
My God!
Ass cheeks that feel like they’ll never be normal again is just par for the course for me these days.
It’s kind of strange to always be aware of my rear end. I mean, not five minutes of any day goes by where I’m not fully aware of every millimeter of skin on my butt! There are times I wonder if I misbehave intentionally in order to be spanked. Those thoughts enter my head but leave just as quickly because more than anything else, I am constantly motivated to please my Sir.
And, I guess, I am also motivated to please myself.
That’s the strangest part of my… I don’t know, what should I call it? My transformation. That works. The strangest part of my transformation is that I want to please myself. That terminology makes it seem selfish so maybe a better way for me to express that is to say I want to be a good person. I want to be responsible. I want to behave like an adult. I want to get good grades and to be the kind of person others respect.
So, I am motivated just as much for my own benefit as I am to please Sir.
I think that’s a big part of my relationship with Sir. Yes, I want to please him. That’s a simple fact. However, what pleases Sir is when I behave like a good person. What pleases Sir is when I behave in a way that promotes my wellbeing. I guess what I’m trying to say is that pleasing Sir means doing things that help me to be a successful and happy person.
So, we’re on the same page.
Except Sir doesn’t spend his life with sore ass cheeks.
I almost giggle at the thought, and if I giggle that will ruin everything! It is early in the morning, four a.m.
I know it’s early but I want to give Sir his first present from me and he needs to be asleep when I do. He wakes at five or so even on his days off so the only way to make sure I can start while he’s asleep is for me to start now.
And it’s exciting as hell!
I am wearing thigh-high red stockings that really highlight the red in my hair. Officially, I’m a strawberry blonde. In the wintertime, though, the blonde really takes a backseat to the red. In the summer, I look like a blonde with reddish tints. In the winter, I look like a redhead with light red hair. With the stockings and the red corset I wear, the light red seems deeper. Since I don’t wear panties at all, the stockings and the corset also make the carefully manicured triangle above my pussy seem much redder.