Laurel Bennett

The Headmaster's Confession

“I hear the dragon is on her way to see you,” Albert, my secretary, said to me. His mouth quirked a little at the corners as he said it.

“Which unfortunate girl is she bringing to me now? And what has she done?” I sighed heavily as I closed my ledger. I’d planned to get some business done today. Running a school for girls was not easy. Not when the majority of them refused to follow the instruction of the headmistress. Thank God I was only here once a week. Or when things went poorly. Which seemed to be happening more and more often. “Might it be time to replace Mrs. Haughton?”

“You could only be so fortunate,” he said with a chuckle.

I tossed my quill onto my desk. “Why did I hire you? I thoroughly dislike you.” I rubbed my forehead. The very thought of the dragon headmistress visiting my office with some unsuspecting girl was enough to bring on a megrim. “Can’t you handle this situation for me? I am supposed to escort my wife to a ball in a few hours.” I pulled out my watch fob and flipped it open. “Two hours. Handle this for me?”

“That harpy? You must be bound for Bedlam.” Albert avoided Mrs. Haughton with every step around the property. I knew it, because I employed many of the same techniques. “That is why you are the headmaster,” he said with a grin as he got to his feet and stretched broadly. “You get to make those important decisions every day.” He looked at me askance. “I hear she’s bringing Miss Winters.” His voice dropped off as he looked at me, as though he waited anxiously to see my reaction.

Miss Winters, with her warm smiles and lithe body. My cock twitched at the very thought of her visiting my office.

“I believe the dragon is here,” my secretary whispered dramatically as he walked toward the door. I heard him say good-naturedly, “Good day ladies.” He gestured into the room and they walked in very slowly.

Miss Haughton had her hair pulled back so tightly in a bun that it made her eyes look slanted. But Miss Winters, on the other hand, she was a sight to behold. Her pretty blond head turned as she watched my secretary walk away. Was she looking at his backside? The corners of her mouth lifted only slightly as she licked her lips. I grew even harder behind my desk. Good lord, I wouldn’t even be able to rise to greet them. I groaned to myself, wishing I was anywhere but here.

Miss Haughton didn’t even smile at me. Did she ever smile at all? The only time I’d ever seen her looking least bit happy was when she punished some young lady for some crime or other. I looked at Miss Winters. What on earth had she done now?

“Eyes front,” the headmistress snapped.

Miss Winters’ head snapped around quickly, no longer watching my secretary’s retreat. She smiled at me and dropped into a very proper curtsy. She lifted the hem of her gown only slightly, and I couldn’t help but wish she would raise it higher so I could see a bit of her trim ankles. Oh, dear God, thoughts such as this would get me nowhere. I had to get the thought out of my head. At this point, there was no way I could rise.

Mrs. Haughton didn’t even wait for me to ask any questions. “She is a disgrace to the school, my lord,” she clipped out. She opened her mouth to complete the thought but I held up my hand to stop her. The sound of her voice grated on my ears. I turned to Miss Winters. She’d just turned eighteen years old. And had been at the school since the age of fourteen when her parents had died. She’d always been a bit of a problem. But it was only because her father was a shipping merchant and she’d grown up without the social background many of the other girls had. But she didn’t lack for wealth. Not at all. Nor did she lack beauty. She was like a porcelain doll with all those blond curls. But she had a sprinkle of freckles that crossed her nose. Not wearing her bonnet outside again, he presumed.

“But sir,” Miss Houghton began. I held up my hand again, and she pursed her lips, as though she wanted to curse me to the devil and back. Sometimes I wished she would.

“You may go,” I said. I sighed heavily, templing my hands on the desktop.

Miss Winters frowned and turned toward the door. Where was she going? “Not you, Miss Winters.” I pointed my quill at Miss Haughton. “You.”

The lady sputtered as thought she’d just choked on her tea. “But my lord, I need to tell you what she has done. It’s unseemly. She influences all the other girls. And if she’d not expelled, she’ll ruin them all.”

I highly doubted this little slip of a girl could influence all the others. She was fairly quiet, even if she didn’t conform to certain social constrictions. I raised my brows at Mrs. Haughton and glared, throwing my best stare at her. “You. May. Go.” It was only then that I realized she had a birch stick in her hand. The kind she liked to use to punish the girls. I’d never, not once, used any such item. I’d never raised a hand to a single one of the girls. I might send them to their room without supper. Or force them to read. But I’d never harm one of them. Miss Haughton shuffled in her place, the birch stick whapping her leg as she fidgeted. Then she finally said something beneath her breath and started for the door. “Wait,” I called. She turned back to me with an anxious look. “I’ll have the birch stick.” I held out my hand and I waited for her to turn it over. She looked none too pleased as she placed it in my palm. Then she turned and quit the room, her skirts flurrying about her. I had no desire to see her ankles. Not one bit. Miss Winters, on the other hand…

My cock twitched at the very thought of her. I still couldn’t stand. “Close the door,” I said.

Miss Winters looked at me as though I’d grown two heads, those blue eyes blinking in question. I didn’t have time to wait for the erection to pass. I lowered my forehead into my palm again and massaged it. “Close the blasted door, Miss Winters,” I repeated. She moved quickly to do so. She obviously warred with the impropriety of it. But I had a feeling Miss Haughton would be nearby, just waiting to hear my verdict about her behavior. And I didn’t want to give the woman the satisfaction.

I pointed to the chair across from my desk. “Sit, Miss Winters.”

Miss Winters did so, gingerly, balancing her bum on the edge of the chair. “I can explain, my lord,” she rushed to say.

God, she was pretty. She stole the words right from my mouth when she looked at my lips. My lips. Good God, I could do wonderful things to her with my lips. I could already taste her on my tongue.

I held up a hand to stop her explanation. “The last time I saw you, it was because you absolutely refused to wear appropriate underthings. You put the headmistress in a fit. Has that been remedied?” Great. Now I could only think about her unmentionables. I imagined her perched on the edge of her chair in nothing more than her corset and stockings with her breasts spilling over the top. I’d lift them and tug her nipple into my mouth. I wanted to see her face as I tasted her. I shook the thoughts away. This was doing nothing but making the ache in my manhood worse.

“That was a foolish thing to involve you in, in my opinion,” she said, her voice quavering a bit.

“Indeed.” It was a foolish thing to involve him in. Miss Haughton should have known better. But my eyes strayed down Miss Winters’ torso. She was slim in all the right places. And plump in all the other right places. “Are you wearing one now?”

She fidgeted only slightly, and a blush crept up her cheeks. “I am.”

“So you are a good girl.” I didn’t mean to say that aloud. But it was in my head, and evidently, my tongue was loosened by the fact that all my blood was rushing to my cock. I appraised the look on her face, trying to figure out if she could sense any of my improper thoughts. She was such an innocent — probably not. A small part of me wished she did. So I could act on it. I shook the thoughts away. Such thoughts would get me in trouble.

“I try to be,” she said quietly. She tried to be what? What had I asked her? Oh, if she was a good girl.

“Then why are you here?” I asked. I leaned forward and rested my chin on the heel of my hand. I could prop myself up and just stare at her all day.

“Miss Loughton would like for you to punish me,” she informed me, her voice shaky but strong.

“For?” I was almost afraid to ask.

She sighed heavily. “Must we discuss it? Can I just take the punishment?” Her gaze strayed toward the birch stick I’d discarded on my desk.

“The punishment must fit the crime,” I quipped. A grin tugged at my lips. I tried to hold it back, but I failed miserably. I arched a brow at her, waiting for her to confess all of her crimes.

“I touched myself.”

Oh, dear heavens. Did she just say she touched herself? Her face flushed scarlet. I coughed into my hand, trying to find enough voice to speak. It wouldn’t be good for me to croak out my next words. I had to be a professional. A headmaster. And actually think with the head upon my shoulders. “Touched yourself?” I repeated.

She gulped. I watched her throat move and all I could think about was pressing my lips to it to calm her. She didn’t look at me. She looked everywhere but my face. Look into my eyes. Let me see you. What you’re thinking. What you’re feeling.

“Where?” My voice sounded raspy to my own ears. What must it sound like to hers?

“Down there,” she whispered as she dropped her face into her hands. She breathed quietly for a moment, making no other noises. Then she finally looked up through her parted fingers, not even taking her hands down. Her blue eyes blinked at me and I’d never seen anything so pretty. So alluring. So innocent of any wrongdoing. A heavy groan escaped my throat and I coughed to hide it. My cock pulsed in my trousers and I reached down to adjust it. Her eyes followed my hand, but I was beyond caring. My stones ached at the very thought of this little slip of a girl touching herself. Of those pretty little fingers sliding through her wetness to stroke her clit. Of those rose-colored lips letting out tiny cries as she gave herself pleasure.

“Take your hands down, Miss Winters.”

She did, but she still didn’t look at me.

“Look at me.” I ordered. She complied, and drew her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it. I wanted to draw her lower lip between my own and sooth it. “Where did you learn such a thing?” I asked, instead. Her mouth opened and then closed. Like she wanted to speak, but was afraid. “I need to know, Miss Winters.”

“From you,” she cried out, as she jumped to her feet. “I learned it from you.” She put her hands on her slim little hips and glared at me. Her bosom heaved with each heavy breath.

“I dare say I taught you no such thing, young lady.” This time, heat crept up my own face. I must be red as a tomato. I’d lusted for the girl for all of five minutes. Well, perhaps I’d lusted more, but this time, it had only been for five minutes.

She circled around my desk to stand in front of me. The lilac scent of her assaulted my nose before she even came close. “I saw you,” she accused. Her eyes roamed down my body and settled in my lap. Her brow arched as she smiled. It was the smile of an innocent. And it set my blood to boiling. My trousers were tented by my hardened cock. I adjusted to cover it with my arm. But it was too big to be hidden. What the hell? I sighed heavily and gave up. She smiled, her eyes dragging across my cock again. She may as well have reached out and touched it, it hit me that hard. I wiped a trickle of sweat from my temple.

I couldn’t imagine what on earth she was referring to. “You saw me?” I cleared my throat. “What was I doing when you saw me?”

“You were in the back stairwell. Miss Houghton had sent me to gather some supplies, and I heard the noises.”

“Noises?”

“Grunting, mostly. And she was crying out.”

She licked her lips again. “She?”

“One of the maids.” She looked me right in the eye. “You were shagging one of the maids in the back stairwell.” She fluttered her hands nervously. “I watched.”

“You watched?”

“I couldn’t stop watching. I just couldn’t.”

I sat back. My cock was purely visible now, but I didn’t care. She’d seen me shag one of the maids, for heaven’s sake. She’d probably seen all of my cock already. Seeing it behind my trousers couldn’t make the situation any worse. And there was nothing I could do to make it go away. Not with the scent of her so close. Not with the heat of her so close. “You watched me shag the maid. And that led to you touching yourself.”

“Well, yes.” She began to pace. Her voice shook, but she continued as though she spoke of the weather. “She was crying out. And she really wanted to finish, she said. But she couldn’t. So, you touched her. You touched her and began to rub her. And she found great pleasure at it, although I didn’t know how at the time.” She took a deep breath. “So, I tried it.”

“And?” My hand lowered of its own accord to rasp against my cock head. She smiled and her cheeks turned even rosier.

“And I liked it.”

“And Miss Houghton caught you at it?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. That nasty little new girl caught me. Evidently, I made a noise as I… you know.” My heart thumped heavily at the very thought of watching this girl find pleasure.

“You know?” I choked out.

“As I… finished. I really don’t know what it’s called. But it’s when I quiver and it sort of feels like some kind of ecstasy washes over me.” She stopped pacing to look at me. “She told on me.” I would have given my last shilling to see the look on Mrs. Haughton’s face when she repeated the tale.

“And you say you learned this behavior from me?” I asked. “When I stroked the maid?” I vaguely remembered the encounter.

“Yes. So, you see, my lord, it’s quite your fault that I am in trouble.”

I held up a hand to stop her speech. I needed a moment to compose myself. She bit down on that bottom lip again. Good lord, she would force me to kiss her before our talk was done.

“Are you still an innocent, Miss Winters?” I asked softly. I watched as goose bumps settled upon her arms.

“Well, in the general sense of the term,” she prevaricated.

If she’d hit me over the head with an anvil, I wouldn’t have been more surprised.

“I’ve never been with a man, but my maidenhead is gone. I’m fairly certain.” She lifted her hand to her mouth and began to chew on her fingernail. She said it as though we discussed the weather. Like we weren’t talking about her innocence or a man breaching the core of her. I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket to mop my brow.

“And how, pray tell, did that happen if you have never been with a man.”

“I think I did it myself,” she said.

“With?” I imagined her fingers sinking into her depths, making a squelching noise as she pressed them inside herself. Dear God.

“Does it matter?”

I shook my head. I’d never been so taken aback. I wanted this little slip of a girl more than I wanted my next breath. I had to ask. This conversation was the thing of fantasies. I’d use it later when I shagged my wife. “How often do you pleasure yourself?”

She looked me right in the eye. “As often as I can?”

I grinned like a school boy. I was certain every tooth in my head was showing.

“And do you often find pleasure?”

“Not often. I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.”

Ouch. That hurt. The idea of this girl reaching for pleasure and not finding it pained me. It made me ache, both in my cock and my heart.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“If you were a bit older,” I began, without even thinking. I wished I could take the words back immediately. My hand dropped down to adjust my cock. Her eyes followed my move and I let them. I didn’t stop. I would go to hell for this. I was certain of it.

“May I see it?” she asked suddenly.

See what? Certainly not my cock?

“Your…” She wasn’t certain what to call it? But she pointed to my lap.

“My cock?” I choked out.

“Is that what it’s called?” She smiled softly.

Cock. Among other things. Right now, it called to be inside her. I had to get her out of my study. But I simply nodded slowly. “I don’t know what to do with you,” I admitted.

“Punish me,” she said with urgency. She reached for the birch stick and picked up my hand, then pressed it into my palm. Then she threw herself upon my person. Across my lap actually. She put the birch stick in my hand and pointed her bottom at me. Certainly, she didn’t think I would strike her?

“What are you doing, Miss Winters?” I nearly shouted. But then I squelched my need to shout. She was lying on my cock. I held my hands out to the side to keep from touching her.

She looked back at me over her shoulder. “Don’t you want to spank me?”

I swiped a hand across my mouth. “More than you know,” I mumbled. I wanted to spank her. Then breach all her defenses as I surged inside her.

“Then do it.” She wiggled her bum at me.

My cock swelled even more against my belly. She would make me come in my trousers if she did that again.

“Don’t do that,” I ordered. I tossed the birch stick onto the desk. Blast and damn. Her bottom was nice and round. I thanked God idly that it was covered by her skirts. If not, I’d be done for. Of its own free will, my hand dropped onto her bottom. It was a gentle thwack. One that betrayed my need. But couldn’t have hurt her. “This is wrong, Miss Winters,” I said quickly. So, so wrong.

“I know,” she whispered.

Then she reached back and ruched her gown up in her fingers until it pooled around her waist, baring her bum for me. The tender white flesh trembled with her wiggling into place. I swiped a hand down my face, trying to still by rapidly beating heart.

“There. Now you don’t have to spank me through my skirts.”

I stilled. That plump flesh looked so perfect. So, round. So… needy. I absently hoped I hadn’t harmed her when I’d lowered that light blow. But her skin was a little red. I lowered my hand to soothe that red spot. Her arse clenched at my touch, but then she released it. Her skin was as soft as doe-skin. And silky smooth. Perfectly unblemished. Slim hips and a round bottom. She would be the object of my fantasies from this day forth. “I cannot bring myself to mar this skin,” I said. I hated the tremble of my own voice.

“You won’t punish me?” she asked. She looked over my shoulder at me again. Her pins had come loose and her curls were hanging in her face. I brushed them back so I could look into her icy blue eyes.

“I can’t,” I told her. But my hand had a will of its own. Apparently the same one as my cock. I dipped it between her thighs until my middle finger touched her clit. That little numb that probably pounded as loudly as my cock. I couldn’t spank this girl. But I could show her how to find pleasure. I dipped my finger into her tight little pussy and brought some moisture forward to her nub. She nearly shot off my lap when it slid my finger across it three times, strumming it like a violin. “I shouldn’t have done that,” I croaked out.

“Do it again?” she whispered. I’d never felt like this before. I ached. And she probably did to. I should have declined. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I spread her cheeks again and slipped my hand between her legs.

“So wet,” I groaned. I captured some of her moisture, bringing it from that hot cavern and using it to lubricate that little pulse point. “Is this where you ache?” I asked as I began to circle it.

“Yes,” she cried out. She lifted her bottom, presumably to give me better access. I fit my hand more firmly between her thighs, one hand on her back, holding her still against me, as the other plundered. “Oh, dear God,” she cried out.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Miss Winters. It’s wrong.” My voice held a longing I’d never expected.

“Don’t stop,” was all she could say.

I had to stop. I couldn’t keep doing this. It was wrong. So, I shoved her from my lap. A bit too roughly at first. But then I gentled my trembling fingers and lifted her with gentle pressure. I caught sight of that little tuft of hair between her legs and stopped. I caught her skirts before they could fall, holding them high as my hands settled on her bare hips. I brought her forward until she was forced to climb upon me. She took me between her thighs like I was meant to be there. I grabbed her bum firmly in my hands and pulled her forward until she rode my cock. The heat of her penetrated my trousers.

“Your trousers will get wet,” she warned.

She whimpered as I set her from me. But it was only long enough to free my cock from the confines of my trousers. I had to feel her. I had to know her. I had to have her. I had to feel her wetness. There was no turning back. I pulled her forward. But she stopped me with a hand pressed to my chest. Then she reached between us and grasped my cock. The slit wept for her, and she circled it with her thumb, the big purple head aching. She swiped her thumb across the trickle of liquid that seeped from the end and brought it to her lips. I thought I might spill myself right there, between us. I groaned loudly. Groaned for her. For all the things I wanted to do to her and couldn’t.

“Can you put it inside me?” she whispered, her fingers threading into the wet hair at my temples.

I shook my head. I couldn’t have her, no matter how much I wanted her. But she rocked her pussy against my cock, her wetness spreading over me. I fit my cock against her nub and she picked up a rhythm so that I rubbed it. She rocked back and forth, her hands holding tightly to my shoulders. I took over, pulling her forward and back. Rubbing her against me. Little mewling sounds tumbled from her mouth.

“Just a little,” she pleaded.

“It’s wrong.”

She took me in her hand and propped me at the opening of her womanhood.

“No,” I protested. But I didn’t withdraw. I just stayed there, the heat of her wrapping around me like a fist. “No,” I groaned.

Then she began to rock on me. The head of my cock slipped along her folds, hinting of entering her but not doing so. I would go mad with wanting her, I was certain of it. But she was just a girl. She was in my care. Not even a whore. She was an innocent. Her juices leaked down my shaft to touch my stones.

“No,” I groaned long and loud.

“Please?” she whispered. Then she touched her lips to mine. I devoured her like I’d never taken another. I wanted to explore every piece of her. To be one with her. To put my mark on every inch of her.

“Maybe just an inch, so you can see what it feels like,” I said hesitantly. I could barely hear my own words. I could put just a little inside her. Just a tiny bit to see what she felt like. I didn’t have to compromise her. I pressed forward, my hands kneading her arse. She stretched ever so easily around me as I sank just the head inside her. “I can’t go any farther,” I said.

“Yes, you can,” she pleaded.

“It’s wrong.” I cupped her face in my hands and looked into her eyes. “It’s wrong.” It’s wrong. So wrong.

I didn’t move, but she sank down ever so slightly on me. “No,” I groaned. My eyes closed and my head fell back as she took more of me inside her. I thought I would die a slow death. “Stop,” I commanded. But she didn’t listen.

She slid down my length, taking more and more of me, and her pussy stretched around me. The noises she made almost made me come inside her. She felt like heaven, all tight and pulsing around me. She didn’t stop lowering herself until she had taken all of me. Taken every inch of me inside her. Oh, dear God. What had I done? I bent and nibbled at her shoulder, trying to keep from coming inside her. She stopped moving when she had all of me inside her. But I pulled her hips lower and screwed into her, taking even more of her. I’d already breached her. I might as well have it all. So perfect. So snug. “This is wrong,” I groaned as I sat there with her impaled on my cock. I refused to move. I just couldn’t. I would shoot off like fireworks if she so much as clenched me.

“It’ll only be wrong if you stop,” she coaxed.

“An innocent no longer,” I whispered. Then I began to move. I lifted and lowered her on my cock until her head fell back, her mouth open in pleasure, her hair tickling the backs of my hands. She looked so wanton, so hot, so perfect, so pleasurable. I shagged her. I shagged a little innocent. A little innocent rode my cock like a whore. And I allowed it.

“An innocent no longer,” she confirmed. This inflamed me. Without taking her off my cock, I stood up. My trousers fell around my ankles as I stood and sat her on the edge of my desk. I didn’t withdraw. I couldn’t have if I’d tried this time. I didn’t withdraw from her. In fact, I took more and more of her as I pushed her legs wide and looked down at the place where we were joined. Her body swallowed my cock, her folds all swollen and pretty. My cock was slick with her essence as I tunneled into her.

“So lovely,” I crooned. I strummed my thumb across that pulse point, the one that was overruling my common sense. She clenched my cock even tighter as I stroked inside her. Her breaths were coming in heavy grunts now. The noise blew across the shell of my ear. “No one has ever been inside you. You’re so tight. I’m the first.”

Then she broke. I didn’t expect her to shake so violently in my arms. But she did. She cried out loudly, clutching my shoulders. Her body convulsed with every stroke of my cock. I erupted inside her, shoving myself to the hilt as she took everything I had to give her. I stilled when it became painful to move inside her. I was too raw. My soul was too bare.

“You are a siren, Miss Winters,” I said. When my breathing slowed, I chuckled and withdrew from her still-pulsing sheath. It was almost painful to retreat from her. But I knew I had to.

“You are a rogue, my lord,” she sighed as I lowered her legs to the floor.

I buttoned up the front of my trousers, tucking my length inside. My British accent disappeared along with my manhood. “Where did you get the costumes?” I asked.

“Costume shop,” she twittered at me. She’d left mine on the bed with nothing more than a note. Without question, I’d donned the suit and met her at her request. I never turned her down.

I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “Can I be a highwayman next time?”

“I was thinking of a stable hand. One who seduces a lady?”

“Oh, nice.” I said, making the vowels last. “I like it.” I dropped into my chair and turned toward my computer. “What time are you picking up the kids?”

She glanced at the clock on my desk. “In ten minutes,” she said. Then she scurried toward the door.

As she started down the hallway, I thought about her fantasies. “How about a priest?” I called to her retreating back. She could force me to lift my cossack and take the little virgin. Oh, yes, she could force me to defile her. God, I loved my wife.

Content

Laurel Bennett
The Headmaster's Confession