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
