Bent Over His Desk：The Principal's Dirty Secret - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading Bent Over His Desk：The Principal's Dirty Secret, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of Bent Over His Desk：The Principal's Dirty Secret.
An hour later, Principal Vincent finally left—satisfied.
Exhausted, I collapsed into my office chair, my mind reeling.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd become Principal Vincent's mistress overnight.
Before this, I had actually admired him.
At forty, he carried himself with effortless charm—crisp shirts paired with jeans or athletic wear, a man who loved basketball and radiated a youthful energy that belied his age. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, a mix of maturity and rugged masculinity.
In a suit, he transformed—polished yet roguish, the kind of man who looked refined on the surface but was undeniably powerful underneath.
A friend had recommended this job to me, partly because of his reputation as a gentleman.
During my interview, he had greeted me personally, his gold-rimmed glasses adding to his sophisticated appeal. I was instantly drawn in.
Back in my tiny apartment, I'd even fantasized about him—imagining him as the leading man in my late-night daydreams.
Sixteen years my senior, yet every time I saw him, I couldn't help but wonder—what would he be like behind closed doors? Would that composed demeanor shatter? The thought alone made my cheeks flush, and I'd laugh at my own ridiculousness.
But reality was different. He was married. And I had no intention of being the other woman. That was my line. Yet here we were—Principal Vincent had wanted me.
How absurd.
Lost in thought, I barely registered when he suddenly lifted me onto the desk.
Shocked, I watched as he pushed me down. I scrambled to sit up—how could I ever look at this desk the same way again?
What if someone walked in? What would I even say?
This wasn't the man I thought I knew.
The once restrained, polite principal now looked at me like a predator, his eyes dark with hunger.
"Let me show you what real pleasure feels like," he murmured, voice low. "Be good, Natalia. If you listen, I promise you'll enjoy it."
Just as I braced myself, voices and footsteps echoed outside the door.
Principal Vincent froze, then shoved me under the desk in one swift motion, trapping me beneath it as he sat back in his chair.
I didn't dare breathe.
"Principal, you're still here?"
Isabella Roland's voice.
"Just reviewing lesson plans," he replied smoothly. "Haven't taught in a while, and I've got a demo class coming up."
Curious, I risked a glance up—did his face betray the lie?
"We're here to prep too. We won't disturb you, then," Isabella said before settling in with her laptop.
Damn it. How was I supposed to get out now?
Then his phone rang. After stepping out to take the call, he bid them farewell and finally left. I exhaled in shaky relief.
Once the coast was clear, I crawled out from under the desk.
Dazed, I stumbled back to my apartment, replaying the violation in my mind.
How was I supposed to face him tomorrow?
Why had he crossed that line? Quitting crossed my mind.
Then my phone rang, snapping me back to reality.
"Natalia, your rent is due," my landlord reminded me.
The call was a slap of cold truth. Without this job, how would I survive? Could I even find another one like it?
I checked my bank account—barely a few hundred dollars left. Payday was close, and my wavering resolve hardened.
No. This wasn't my fault.
Why should I be the one to leave?
I needed this job. I needed the money.
Maybe this was just a momentary lapse for Principal Vincent.
Swallowing my unease, I finally drifted into a restless sleep.
Exhausted, I collapsed into my office chair, my mind reeling.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd become Principal Vincent's mistress overnight.
Before this, I had actually admired him.
At forty, he carried himself with effortless charm—crisp shirts paired with jeans or athletic wear, a man who loved basketball and radiated a youthful energy that belied his age. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, a mix of maturity and rugged masculinity.
In a suit, he transformed—polished yet roguish, the kind of man who looked refined on the surface but was undeniably powerful underneath.
A friend had recommended this job to me, partly because of his reputation as a gentleman.
During my interview, he had greeted me personally, his gold-rimmed glasses adding to his sophisticated appeal. I was instantly drawn in.
Back in my tiny apartment, I'd even fantasized about him—imagining him as the leading man in my late-night daydreams.
Sixteen years my senior, yet every time I saw him, I couldn't help but wonder—what would he be like behind closed doors? Would that composed demeanor shatter? The thought alone made my cheeks flush, and I'd laugh at my own ridiculousness.
But reality was different. He was married. And I had no intention of being the other woman. That was my line. Yet here we were—Principal Vincent had wanted me.
How absurd.
Lost in thought, I barely registered when he suddenly lifted me onto the desk.
Shocked, I watched as he pushed me down. I scrambled to sit up—how could I ever look at this desk the same way again?
What if someone walked in? What would I even say?
This wasn't the man I thought I knew.
The once restrained, polite principal now looked at me like a predator, his eyes dark with hunger.
"Let me show you what real pleasure feels like," he murmured, voice low. "Be good, Natalia. If you listen, I promise you'll enjoy it."
Just as I braced myself, voices and footsteps echoed outside the door.
Principal Vincent froze, then shoved me under the desk in one swift motion, trapping me beneath it as he sat back in his chair.
I didn't dare breathe.
"Principal, you're still here?"
Isabella Roland's voice.
"Just reviewing lesson plans," he replied smoothly. "Haven't taught in a while, and I've got a demo class coming up."
Curious, I risked a glance up—did his face betray the lie?
"We're here to prep too. We won't disturb you, then," Isabella said before settling in with her laptop.
Damn it. How was I supposed to get out now?
Then his phone rang. After stepping out to take the call, he bid them farewell and finally left. I exhaled in shaky relief.
Once the coast was clear, I crawled out from under the desk.
Dazed, I stumbled back to my apartment, replaying the violation in my mind.
How was I supposed to face him tomorrow?
Why had he crossed that line? Quitting crossed my mind.
Then my phone rang, snapping me back to reality.
"Natalia, your rent is due," my landlord reminded me.
The call was a slap of cold truth. Without this job, how would I survive? Could I even find another one like it?
I checked my bank account—barely a few hundred dollars left. Payday was close, and my wavering resolve hardened.
No. This wasn't my fault.
Why should I be the one to leave?
I needed this job. I needed the money.
Maybe this was just a momentary lapse for Principal Vincent.
Swallowing my unease, I finally drifted into a restless sleep.
End of Bent Over His Desk：The Principal's Dirty Secret Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to Bent Over His Desk：The Principal's Dirty Secret book page.