"Hello, Mrs. Willows." I say smiling at you as you enter my office, your purse held in your hands as you glance around, seeing the different awards and citations hanging on my wall. A large gold one proclaiming, Principal of the Year 2002, is hung directly behind my desk, the gold letters seeming to form a halo behind my head as I sit down. "I'm glad you could make it today, I know it was hard for you to get away from work but I think it was necessary." I say with a smile as I motion towards the chair in front of my desk. "Please have a seat."
"What did you want to see me about, Mr. Cash?" You ask as you sit in the hard wooden chair, crossing your legs demurely as you set your purse on the edge of my desk. "Your secretary said it was urgent. My kids aren't... they aren't in any trouble, are they?"
"No, at least not yet, Mrs. Willows." I tell you reassuringly, leaning forward to rest my hands on my desk, my eyes running quickly over your bare legs below your dark skirt. "Your son however has been running with a rough crowd," I tell you, "and we had a bit of an incident yesterday."
"What did he do?" You ask worriedly. "Was it serious?"
"Well, we have no proof your son committed the act but we have suspicion to believe he was involved. And it's very serious, Mrs. Willows, if we had proof we'd be calling the police."
"What... what do you want from me?" you ask as you reach for your purse. Not paying attention to where your hand is you knock your purse over, spilling the contents all over my floor. Swearing softly to yourself you slide out of your chair, squatting down on the floor as you try to gather up your scattered belongings.
"Well, Mrs. Willows," I start to say as I stand up and move around to lean against the front of my desk, looking down at you as you squat in front of me. "I'm going to ask a favor of you in exchange for my silence to the police." I tell you as my eyes admire the smooth skin of your thighs, your dark skirt hiked up on your legs as you begin to pick up your belongings and push them into your purse.
"What sort of favor?" You ask as you reach behind you slightly to pick up your lipstick that has rolled across the floor, the motion causing your thighs to spread slightly wider forcing your skirt higher on your legs. I can now see the white cotton crotch of your panties as you continue to focus on cleaning up your purse, unaware that you are inadvertently exposing yourself to me. "Mr. Cash? What sort of a favor?" You ask again, curious as to why I haven't answered you glance up at me, your eyes following my gaze to your exposed panties. "Mr. Cash?" You ask again, your face flushing in embarrassment as you look away, avoiding my gaze.
"You are a very attractive woman, Tracy." I tell you softly, smiling as you make no motion to close your legs. "I noticed you first at the PTA meeting last month and I've been waiting to get to know you more ever since." I tell you; stepping closer to you I kneel down so that our knees are almost touching. "I've been waiting for an opportunity just like this." I almost whisper to you as my hands rest lightly on your knees, pushing them outwards spreading your legs wider, forcing your skirt up until it is bunched around your waist exposing all of your white French cut panties.
"Please..." You say in a small voice as you turn your head farther from me, your hair falling down to cover your face as you feel my gaze on your conservative underwear.
"You don't want your son arrested do you, Mrs. Willows?" I ask as my eyes trace the contour of your pussy through your panties. "It would ruin his future," I tell you as my hand moves up to cup your chin, turning your face so that you are looking at me. "We wouldn't want that would we, Tracy?" I ask smiling at you as my other hand glides up your leg, my fingers running along the lace at the leg of your panties.
"Please, Mr. Cash..." You start to plead with me, your eyes large and filled with shame as my fingers slide along the soft cotton fabric, running gently over the mound of your pussy as you tremble under my touch.
"Shhh, Mrs. Willows." I hush you as my hand moves down, cupping your sex in the palm of my hand, gently squeezing your pussy through your panties. My forefinger and ring finger move to outer edges of your pussy, my middle finger curving slightly as I run my fingertip along the cleft of your pussy, pushing the soft cotton between the tight lips of your cunt. "You don't want to endanger your son's future do you?"
You bite your lip, trying to turn your head away from my penetrating gaze as I continue to stroke you through your underwear. My hand falls from holding your chin to rest on your shoulder, massaging you through the dark blazer you are wearing.
"Stand up, Mrs. Willows." I instruct you, standing up, my hand in your crotch almost lifting you to your feet. "Turn around, Tracy," I tell you softly pointing behind you with one hand. You glance in the indicated direction, your cheeks flushing a bright crimson as your eyes fall on the full length mirror hanging on the back of the door. Your eyes run over your reflection, your dark skirt still hiked up over your hips exposing your light blue panties.
"Please, Mr. Cash..." You plead softly, turning your head from the embarrassing image of yourself in the mirror.
"Look at yourself, Mrs. Willows." I command you gently as I step up behind you, my hand cupping your chin and turning your head back towards the mirror. "I want you to watch this," I tell you, my voice a soft whisper in your ear as I press my body tight against yours. You tremble in shame as you see the two of us together in the mirror, my hand dropping from your face to slide down the lapel of your blazer. You inhale sharply as my hand slides lightly over the mound of your breast, your back arching slightly.
"You enjoy this, don't you, Tracy?" I ask, my fingers slowly unbuttoning your blazer one button at a time, your eyes focusing on my fingers in the mirror. "You like having a man take control of you, of your body and using it for his pleasure. Isn't that right, Mrs. Willows?"
"No... I'm married... please..." You gasp, your body trembling as my fingers push your blazer open, my hand sliding across the soft silk of your blouse. You gasp, your stomach seeming to convulse as my fingers move to the bottom button of your blouse, undoing it quickly. "Please, Mr. Cash..." You almost sob as my fingers spread your blouse open, exposing a small portion of your soft stomach, my fingertips just grazing your skin as my hand moves up to the next button. You can't take your eyes from my hand as I slowly undo each button of your blouse, my fingers sliding up until just the top button remains, your blouse gaping open to reveal brief glimpses of your stomach and bra. "Please, I'm married..." You protest weakly as my fingers undo the last button of your blouse, trying to turn your head away despite my hand on your chin holding it in place.
"I know you're married, Mrs. Willows." I breathe in your ear as my fingers spread your blouse open to reveal your breasts encased in the light blue bra. "That's what makes you so desirable; you are someone's wife and mother." My hand trails lightly over your bare stomach, tracing small designs on your soft skin. "You are a respected business woman with a good family, Tracy," I whisper in your ear as my hand slides up to cover one of your breasts, "and that's why I'm going to make you my personal fuck toy." I chuckle as you gasp at my words, your face flushing in renewed embarrassment as my fingers rub against the hard nugget of your nipple.
"Please don't, Mr. Cash..." You beg as my hand roughly fondles your heaving breast, your eyes never leaving the mirror, watching the reflection of my hand as my finger pulls the cup of your bra aside exposing your nipple to the chill air in my office. "Oh.... Don't..."
"You look like a slut, Mrs. Willows." I say with a nasty laugh as I look at your reflection in the mirror, your blouse and blazer open to expose your bra while your skirt is hiked up over your hips. Your light blue panties are pressed deep into your pussy, displaying the cleft of your sex as my hand toys with your hard nipple. "You look like you are begging to be fucked, Tracy, dressed like this. You're a slut aren't you?"
"No..." You shake your head slightly, ashamed of the way your body is displayed as my words echo hotly in your mind. "I'm a good wife and mother," You say, "not a... not a slut." You almost whisper the last word, embarrassed to even say it.
"I don't believe you, Mrs. Willows." I tell you, my hand leaving your breast to slide down your stomach to rest on your skirt, my fingers just brushing against the soft mound of your pussy. "I think you're a slut, and I'm going to prove it." My hand slides across the front of your panties, feeling the heat radiating out from between your legs. "Squat down and spread your legs, Tracy." I instruct you, smiling as you wordlessly obey me. Your position causes your panties to stretch tight across your crotch, the thin cotton displaying almost every detail of your pussy as you look at yourself in the mirror.
"This is so humiliating," you say almost to yourself as I kneel behind you, my body pressed tight against yours, my chin resting on your shoulder. "Please stop, Mr. Cash."
"I don't think so, Mrs. Willows." I tell you, smiling at the image of the two of us reflected in the mirror. "I want to see something first," I say as my hand sliding along one of your bare thighs, caressing the soft flesh. As my hand nears your crotch I release your chin from my other hand, dropping it to your knee as I slowly spread your legs wider.