Anything He wants

BEING HIS STUDENT

I roll my pretty hazel eyes as I sit in the empty hallway.

There is an antique grandfather clock at the end of the hall. I can hear it ticking dutifully, counting down how many minutes I have been waiting here. Judging by the sunlight streaming in at a dark golden hue, it must be getting to mid-afternoon.

I groan and shuffle impatiently in my seat. I’ve never been very good at waiting for things. I tend to get what I want when I want it.

And very rarely do I ever have to do anything outside my desires.

I guess you could say that makes me spoiled, and I guess you’d be right. I don’t like being bossed around. I don’t like being boxed in. Nobody makes decisions for Avery Winston– I’m in control of my own life.

Although, it doesn’t feel that way right now, as I’m being forced to sit in this stupid hall and wait to pay my dues. I prefer when I make the schedule, not someone else.

Not even the sensible and sexy headmaster, in front of whose office I’m currently parked. Waiting for my disciplinary meeting.

My punishment.

But I’m not quivering with fear.

In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

I feel a sense of anticipation. Adrenaline is running through my veins.

The sting of punishment runs so closely along the stroke of pleasure.

I’m a bad girl, and I need to be corrected.

Everything about me screams “teenage troublemaker.”

I’m freshly eighteen, and technically a virgin, but I’d like to think my dirty mind makes me more mature than I look.

I know how I look. I know my appeal. I’m in my boarding school uniform, but I don’t make it look frumpy. I don’t hide my body, I don’t shy away from my own curves.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

I’m supposed to wear my gray, black, and white plaid skirt down to my shins, but I used my daddy’s credit card to get all of my uniform skirts tailored.

Now they barely reach to mid-thigh, and that’s saying something, considering how long my legs are. I’m supposed to tuck my starchy white button-up shirt into that skirt, but instead, I undo the two bottom buttons and use the loose fabric to tie a cute knot, so that the shirt is cropped to show a little flash of my narrow waist.

I undo the first two buttons, as well, so I can put my ample cleavage on full display. On top of that, I’m meant to wear a boxy gray fleece (which I conveniently ‘misplaced’ within a week of enrolling here) and a modest black blazer.

Even the blazer is improved with a little tailoring and rolling up the sleeves. Add to the ensemble some woolly gray knee-high socks and black mary-janes, and a black headband in my long, brown hair, and I look like I could’ve stepped right out of some perv’s schoolgirl fantasy.

I’m leaned back in the rickety wooden chair, my arms folded across my chest in a pouty position. I sit somewhat sideways in the seat with my legs crossed tightly and one foot tapping out a restless beat.

I’m not nervous so much as intrigued.

After all, I’m no stranger to punishment at the hands of older men.

My own father has tried to discipline me in all kinds of ways-grounding me, lecturing me, taking my credit cards, getting my car towed so I can’t drive it… you know, all the stops. Not that it’s ever been very effective.

Dad doles out the punishment, but he’s never there to enforce it. Not like he really cares that much anyway. I’ve always been able to weasel into or out of anything with just a bat of my lashes or a sweet word. It’s only too easy.

Daddy never stays angry for long– in fact, he rarely interacts with me on any level for very long.

He’s a very busy man, always jetting around the world for important meetings to schmooze with other boring, uptight, old-money socialites. When you get so little attention from the one person who’s supposed to shower you with affection, it makes you desperate. I’m always desperate for attention, whether it’s negative or positive.

I look forward to the punishments just like the rewards. Maybe that means I’m a little warped, but oh well. I’m a bad girl and I deserve to be disciplined. At least, I hope I will be. I mean, what’s a girl got to do to get a little attention around here?

I sigh dramatically and look around me. It’s really a beautiful, picturesque setting if I let myself think about it.

The boarding school is situated in the midst of a vast plot of forested acreage in the idyllic New England countryside, with tons of space for outdoors activities, competitive sports, events.

Out the wide window across the hall I can see rolling green hills fringed in the distance with a dense tree line. The school buildings are all stately brick buildings with vaulted ceilings and vintage touches throughout.

There is a beautiful conservatory flourishing with green plants, herbs, vegetables, flowers. The school library is a dinosaur of an old structure with walls and walls of every kind of book imaginable.

Tall ladders reach to the topmost shelves, while a spiral staircase leads down into the restricted archives in the belly of the building. The dorms are private, secure, cozy, and draped with tapestries and beautiful decor to keep the students feeling inspired and at home.

Far out across the grounds, there are stables for horses and a private lake for rowing, swimming, and fishing. The on-site gymnasium is state-ofthe-art, and even the cafeteria is elegantly designed.

The whole boarding school drips with prestige and deep, deep pockets. This is the kind of place where every student is some kind of heiress or trust fund baby.

I’m no exception. I’ve had pretty much every material desire or shallow whim fulfilled since I was old enough to start demanding what I want.

But it turns out that gifts are not an equitable surrogate for genuine attention.

I keep looking for that attention wherever I can get it. Daddy couldn’t handle my needs anymore, so he sent me here to ‘straighten out’. Jokes on him, though, because I’ve set my sights on a new father figure. As I sit here outside his door, I glance up at the golden plaque hanging there proudly.

His name is emblazoned across it in bold, classy lettering: HEADMASTER DANE GRAHAM.

My heart flutters just thinking about him in there, on the other side of the door. Sitting at his desk with that furrowed brow, that concentrated look on his handsome face.

I picture his large hand raising to his head, his long fingers running through his thick, dark blond hair streaked with white. I want to know what’s inside that pretty head. What is he thinking about? Is he thinking about me?

Headmaster Graham is gentle, and patient to a fault. I’ve been trying so hard to break him, to get a rise out of him.

There’s nothing sexier than a calm man suddenly losing his restraint. It’s not that I want to see him crack under pressure. I just want him to get real with me.

I want to break down this teacher-student wall between us, bring him down to my level, get down and dirty with him. I don’t have bad intentions, I just want to do bad things to him.

The more I think about him, the more turned on I get. Even though I’m sitting in the world’s least comfortable wooden chair, meant to bruise my tailbone and make me dwell on my regrets or whatever, my body is tingling all over.

I imagine what fate might befall me when that office door opens. Maybe my punishment won’t be boring– it’ll be sexy.

I picture him calling me into his office, locking the door, and turning to me with those soft gray eyes hard with lust. My mind is filled with images of him grabbing me and forcing me to bend over his lap. If I close my eyes, I can almost feel his wide, flat palm smacking my bare ass.

I can hear the echoing slap, feel the sting of a red handprint on my ass cheek. Just another temporary tattoo, another piece of evidence to treasure in my reflection.

Maybe it’ll go even further than that. I wonder if he’ll order me to get down on my knees, to gaze up into his blazing eyes as he shoves his cock down my willing throat.

My mouth salivates at the thought of giving the headmaster head. A million fantasies splinter off in my mind, ricocheting in every sensual direction.

I’m so entranced by him, so desperate for him, that any touch will be enough to send me reeling. I’ve been watching him from afar since I was sent here a month ago.

Normally, it only takes me less than forty-eight hours to get a new guy wrapped around my dainty little finger. But the headmaster has his guard up.

He’s used to dealing with… difficult young women. Spoiled rich girls who need to learn discipline. Girls like me. But I’m going to be more than he expects. I’m going to blow his mind, one way or another, until he’s mine.

My body warms to the idea of being near him. My soft, petal-pink nipples stiffen to perky peaks underneath my starchy white blouse. I go without a bra so he can see my arousal. I’m not ashamed. I want him to know what he does to my smooth, virginal, beautiful young body.

I’m getting slick and tingly between my legs, and every time I rub my thighs together I can feel the friction stimulate my clit. I tilt my head back against the wall and close my eyes. My hands drop to my full breasts. I cup their fullness and fondle my nipples until I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.

My body is begging for more, for deeper.

Closer.

Harder.

I need the release so badly, especially since I never get any privacy around here. At home, I was left alone all the time, free to masturbate and be as filthy as I wanted. But here?

I am always surrounded by other girls. In class, in the library, at lunch, the communal bathrooms, even in the dorms at night.

My bed is a cute little four-poster twin in a row of identical beds. There are five other girls just in my dorm room. If I’m seized by a delicious fantasy in the middle of the night when I’m too horny to sleep, I have to touch myself so silently and softly under the sheets so nobody hears me. I can never fully let loose like I need to.

Although, I can’t pretend like the risk of getting caught doesn’t amp up the thrill. Even now, another student could come wandering down the hall. The headmaster could pop his head out of the office at any time. I could easily get caught in a compromising position with myself. That only makes me wetter.

I rock and undulate my hips while I squeeze my thighs together. My fingers stroke my nipples and trail down to rub my achy mound through my short skirt. The delectable friction of my pussy lips grinding together, stimulating my tight little clit– it’s almost too much. I almost hope someone walks in on me.

Getting caught would be so fucking hot. I would get in trouble… and then my favorite new father figure would have to pay attention to me!

The pressure is building up ever higher inside of me as I rub my clit and touch my tits right here out in the open. I’m gasping breathless on the edge of coming when I hear the click-turn of the office door handle from the inside.

The excitement I feel trumps the desire to come. I hastily smooth down my blouse and skirt, sit up straight, and smirk up at the headmaster as he parts the door and looks out. As soon as his stony gray eyes land on me, a wave of understanding crosses his gorgeous features. I can’t help but flash a naughty grin.

He knows I’m a troublemaker.

This isn’t my first rodeo, and certainly ain’t his. He steps out into the hallway to address me. I find myself licking my lips as my eyes pan slowly up his enormous, powerful frame. He’s so tall and broad-shouldered, he could intimidate even the most brazen rebel. Even me… well, almost.

But I’m not shaking at his hulking size and authoritative demeanor. I’m just turned on. I want to brush my fingers through that thick blond hair, trace the impressive shape of his jaw, feel those hard pecs underneath layers of professorly digs.

Headmaster Graham wears a modernized tweed suit complete with tailored trousers, vest, suit coat, and a scarlet tie.

All business, but still sexy.

He looks at me with exasperation, shaking his head.

“Here we are again, Miss Winston,” he chastises.

“It’s a date,” I retort audaciously. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” “It’s not…” he trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Those gray eyes flick down to me again and I feel an electrical shock through my body. His gaze burns with intensity.

Either he’s really mad at me and I’m in trouble, or he’s really into me and I’m in trouble.

I’m perfectly pleased with both options.

Either way, I can’t wait to get him alone in his office. But first, I need to up the ante. As always.

I hop to my feet and stand very, dangerously close to the headmaster. I stand on tiptoe and stretch my arms up over my head, letting out a sensualsounding groan of satisfaction. When I lower my arms, I accidentally brush against his shoulder.

“Oopsie,” I giggle, biting my lip.

Headmaster Graham stares down at me. There’s a wordless conflict between us. His nature is gentle and understanding, but he’s also in charge here. Gentleness hasn’t worked on me yet, and he’s well aware.

Usually I can use my rebellious ways or feminine wiles to make men stand down. I’m sweet and harmless-looking, just a sexy little schoolgirl who can’t possibly do anything wrong. That’s been my schtick.

But Headmaster Graham knows better. He’s an authority figure and he’s not afraid to stand up to me if needs to. He has the patience to deal with an endless supply of rebellious young female students. But there’s something holding him back when it comes to me, and that’s what fascinates me.

That’s what keeps me trying to seduce him, and today I am ready to take my mission to the next level.

“Step into my office with me, Miss Winston,” he commands in a low voice.

“Yes, sir,” I reply enthusiastically.

We walk through the threshold into a cozy, dimly-lit office decorated with the same stately, vintage touch as the rest of the school. Huge, glossy mahogany desk.

A bay window overlooking a stretch of verdant fields edged by forest. A white candle flickers on a shelf. Hefty, dusty tomes line the shelves on the walls, and an old-fashioned green glass lamp is the only spot of light besides the fading sun.

I happily follow him in, my heart pounding and my endorphins rushing like a river in my veins.

I’m in trouble, but that’s the point. It’s the vessel by which I arrive at this place: alone in a room with the object of my seduction. I’ve been crushing hard on him since day one of my exile here at boarding school. I need to be punished, to be called a bad girl, to be disciplined by this sexy hunk of a headmaster.

I know it’s filthy, but I can’t stop lusting over the fact that he’s almost old enough to be my dad.

I’m just a dainty, delicate, virginal eighteen year old.