Bent Over His Desk：The Principal's Dirty Secret - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading Bent Over His Desk：The Principal's Dirty Secret, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of Bent Over His Desk：The Principal's Dirty Secret.
My face burned with humiliation as I frantically grabbed his arms, trying to push his wandering hands away.
But what chance did I have? A young woman's strength was nothing against a grown man's. My struggle only made him grip me harder, his voice turning low and slick with persuasion.
"Ms. Evans, let's be honest—you don't have a boyfriend. You have needs. Who are you saving yourself for? What's the harm in letting me take care of you?"
His words slithered into my ears like poison.
"Besides," he continued, "my wife's been in a coma since the accident last month. I've been thinking about taking a mistress. Why not you?"
A cold smirk curled his lips.
"I won't leave you empty-handed. The associate teacher evaluations start next month. As a fresh grad, you'd never make the cut on your own. But as my mistress? I'll guarantee your promotion. Awards? Consider them yours."
Then his voice dropped to a threat.
"Or you can say no. But then I'll have to report your… inappropriate behavior tonight to the entire faculty. And terminate your contract."
My hands trembled. My grip loosened.
Because as much as I hated to admit it—his offer tempted me.
I wasn't some sheltered girl anymore. I knew how the world worked. The perks of being his mistress… and the ruin that came with refusal.
Worst of all? That first argument dug under my skin.
No boyfriend. Needs. No one to stay pure for. Why not?
My resistance shattered. My hands fell limp at my sides.
"Ha! That's more like it, Ms. Evans!" His laugh was thick with victory. "Smart women know when to yield—and you're brilliant."
Then his voice turned sharp, eyes glinting with hunger.
"Stand up. Bend over the desk. Pretend you're grading papers."
I knew exactly what he wanted.
But I'd already given in.
Cheeks flaming, I obeyed, leaning over the desk and pulling out student assignments—a flimsy pretense of professionalism.
Conscious of his shorter frame (165cm to my 172cm), I bent my knees slightly, arching my back just enough to accommodate him.
Principal Lowell didn't hesitate. He pressed against me from behind, his breath hot and ragged with anticipation.
But what chance did I have? A young woman's strength was nothing against a grown man's. My struggle only made him grip me harder, his voice turning low and slick with persuasion.
"Ms. Evans, let's be honest—you don't have a boyfriend. You have needs. Who are you saving yourself for? What's the harm in letting me take care of you?"
His words slithered into my ears like poison.
"Besides," he continued, "my wife's been in a coma since the accident last month. I've been thinking about taking a mistress. Why not you?"
A cold smirk curled his lips.
"I won't leave you empty-handed. The associate teacher evaluations start next month. As a fresh grad, you'd never make the cut on your own. But as my mistress? I'll guarantee your promotion. Awards? Consider them yours."
Then his voice dropped to a threat.
"Or you can say no. But then I'll have to report your… inappropriate behavior tonight to the entire faculty. And terminate your contract."
My hands trembled. My grip loosened.
Because as much as I hated to admit it—his offer tempted me.
I wasn't some sheltered girl anymore. I knew how the world worked. The perks of being his mistress… and the ruin that came with refusal.
Worst of all? That first argument dug under my skin.
No boyfriend. Needs. No one to stay pure for. Why not?
My resistance shattered. My hands fell limp at my sides.
"Ha! That's more like it, Ms. Evans!" His laugh was thick with victory. "Smart women know when to yield—and you're brilliant."
Then his voice turned sharp, eyes glinting with hunger.
"Stand up. Bend over the desk. Pretend you're grading papers."
I knew exactly what he wanted.
But I'd already given in.
Cheeks flaming, I obeyed, leaning over the desk and pulling out student assignments—a flimsy pretense of professionalism.
Conscious of his shorter frame (165cm to my 172cm), I bent my knees slightly, arching my back just enough to accommodate him.
Principal Lowell didn't hesitate. He pressed against me from behind, his breath hot and ragged with anticipation.
End of Bent Over His Desk：The Principal's Dirty Secret Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to Bent Over His Desk：The Principal's Dirty Secret book page.