The Headmaster's Confession

by Laurel Bennett

  “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.

  Want to read the same story from Miss Winters’ point of view? Be sure to pick up The Headmaster’s Fall. Available now from Laurel Bennett.

  More by Laurel Bennett

  The Headmaster’s Fall

  And Miss Julianna Makes Three

  Lady Laugherty’s Loves

  Fulfillment

  Satisfying Audrey

  Too Good to Be Bad

  When the Past Comes Knocking

  Her Gift, The Duchess

  The Duchess Has a Houseparty

  Lady Laugherty’s Loves

  Olivia Ragland never assumed she would be presented with the opportunity to love two men, not at the very same time. In fact, she has all the man she could ever want in her husband, Avery Ragland, Lord Laugherty. He’s charismatic, handsome, and a wonderful lover. But when his best friend is invited to a house party they throw, the two launch a sensual assault that no woman could possibly withstand.

  Avery and Ellis have shared women in the past, and have a pressing desire to share this one for a lifetime. The only catch -- they have to convince Olivia that she can overcome the restrictions that come with respectability.

  Fulfillment

  Annabelle Greer has never been able to decide if she likes the top more, or the bottom. She loves the feeling of taking a man beneath her and making him submit. But she also likes to be dominated just as much.

  When Randall Masters discovers Annabelle's need to dominate, he's not able to fulfill her desires. He can't take a submissive role, not even for her. So, he calls upon his old friend, the Earl of Moxbury. The earl would be mortified if anyone in parliament knew about his most secret desires. But he throws caution to the wind when he goes to visit Randall and Annabelle.

  What follows is a lesson in domination, submission and sharing. But can they make it last a lifetime?

  Satisfying Audrey

  Audrey has the hots for her house guest and is mortified when he walks in to find her doing something naughty. It's not until he gets her husband on the phone that things get steamy.

  Excerpt:

  I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked back at my naked bottom. It was pretty. Pretty round. Still in good shape. I was happy to say that I still had it. I didn’t have it as nicely as Matthew did, though. Matthew was perfect, with his chiseled face and confident jaw. I’d caught him coming out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel a few nights ago, and I’d wanted to lick the drops of water from his chest. But then John stumbled into the hallway and shooed him in to his room. Matthew had gone. But for a moment I’d wished he would drop the towel so I could see if his ass was as hard as his chest appeared to be.

  I would go to hell for fantasizing about a man who wasn’t mine.