The Principal's Wife

© 2023 by Lorenzo Marks. All rights reserved. Not for sale.

Reproduction in any form is prohibited.

All of the characters in this story are over the age of eighteen.

Chapter One

For the first time in the three years that she had been teaching at Winston-Radcliffe High, Mrs. Caroline Lambert found herself physically incapable of opening the door to her home classroom. She still couldn't believe the absurd situation she had managed to get herself into, although given the added risks she had been running recently, it was hardly surprising that she had finally been found out.

Lord knew, she had tried to find a remedy--medication, psychiatry, hypnotherapy, even acupuncture--but nothing had worked. For most of her life, she had been a slave to this horrible compulsive disorder, and it had only been by the grace of God that she had managed to avoid exposure all this time--until now.

She was still unsure of how that hateful little man, Mike Kettle the gym teacher, had managed to catch her stealing from the teachers' locker room on film, but the email he had sent her was as damning as it was terrifying. Her initial reaction had been to sit it out and deny any wrongdoing, but closer inspection of the images clearly showed the items in question being removed from a fellow teacher's locker. Stupid, insignificant things that Caroline had absolutely no need for--cosmetics, a book, a fold-up umbrella, pocket change. It had been Caroline's second excursion into the staff locker room--she had previously kept her compulsion outside of the workplace--and although there had been no formal complaints, her first victim must have mentioned something, which might explain why Kettle had put the hidden camera there.

What had unsettled her as much as the shocking and unexpected email, was his puzzling and troubling proposal. He had suggested a face to face meeting if she wanted to keep her crime a secret--unfortunately that was a no-brainer given her high station in the local community--and when they had met up at an out-of-town cafe, he had been quite blunt in presenting his plan. After allowing Caroline to squirm and plead for a few minutes, he had agreed that their little secret would remain just between them, with one caveat--she was to report to her homeroom every Saturday afternoon for detention.

Detention? Caroline couldn't believe her ears! She was a senior teacher, for heaven's sake!

And Kettle hadn't even given her time to think about it! A simple yes or no on the spot, and if her answer was the latter, then the photographs would be sent to her husband--who just happened to be the school principal! The resulting scandal would have been unthinkable! Caroline was a highly respected member of the community. She organized several church fundraising events each year, she was a committee member of the local women's society and had even been the recipient of an award from City Hall for her charity work for the homeless. Not to mention the fact that her husband's social circle included judges, priests, wealthy captains of industry, and local politicians. No, for Mrs. Caroline Lambert, mother, educator, and all round pillar of society, to be shamed publicly as a common thief was simply not an option!

So as much as it galled her to have to give in to the common little man's demands, here she was on a quiet Saturday afternoon in the deserted school, reporting for detention, as Mike Kettle had disconcertingly put it.

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to knock--the idea struck her as ridiculous--so instead, she placed her ear against the door. She couldn't hear anything, and peering through the frosted glass panel, it was impossible to tell if anybody was inside. For a moment, her heart rate slowed at the possibility that he had just been toying with her. She checked her expensive Bulgari wristwatch--an anniversary present--and saw that it was three minutes past the arranged meeting time.

It was possible of course, that Kettle was sitting quietly inside, and mindful of the catastrophic fallout should he follow through with his threat, Caroline took a deep breath and turned the door handle. Cautiously putting her head around the half-open door, she scanned the empty classroom. Her desk on the far right in front of the blackboard and national flag was empty, as were the rows of desks facing it.

With a sigh of relief, Caroline was just about to close the door and leave, when Kettle popped out from behind the door. "Hi, there! I'm glad you finally worked up the courage to come in!"

"Oh!" Caroline started, putting a hand up to her chest.

"Did I surprise you?" Kettle grinned. "Well, you'd better get used to that.

Come on inside and lock the door behind you."

For safety reasons, the classroom door could not be locked from the outside, but there was a deadbolt on the inside. As she turned it, Caroline felt a knot of foreboding in her stomach. Following him over toward her desk, she also noticed that the blinds had been pulled down on all the windows. What could he possibly have in mind that would require such privacy?

In fact, that question had been tumbling around in her mind ever since her unwanted meeting with Kettle. He had told her she would have to serve a series of Saturday detentions until he was satisfied that she was sufficiently punished--but he hadn't gone into any details. Caroline had supervised countless detentions during her career, and for the most part they had involved extra study sessions, or long boring hours of just sitting. Was that what he had planned for her? Somehow she didn't think so.

Kettle had already seated himself behind her desk, and Caroline found herself in the unaccustomed and somewhat belittling position of having to stand before him rather like a naughty schoolgirl. The only other option would be to sit at one of the students' desks, but that would present an even more deferential picture, so she stayed where she was while the despicable little man studied her with an impudent grin on his face.

He seemed to be enjoying the moment, allowing his eyes to rove up and down her body, and she shifted uncomfortably. Totally in the dark as to what she might have to expect, Caroline had dressed in her usual summer outdoor style--a light floral dress pulled in at the waist with a matching belt, light brown tights, sensible flat shoes, and her customary string of pearls around her neck.

She could only guess as to why Kettle was examining her so intently, but to break the tension, she said, "So what exactly do you want from me?"

"Hmm," Kettle grinned, tapping his chin. "What indeed? What could you possibly have that I want, huh?"

His cryptic response was as irritating as it was worrying, and Caroline snapped, "Look, I've come all the way out here as you asked, so you could at least have the decency to let me know why I am here!"

Her haughty approach didn't seem to bother him and instead of answering her question, he said, "How old are you, Caroline?"

Bridling at this unexpected over-familiarity, Caroline said, "What has that to do with anything?"

"Well, it's just that I've always imagined that you are hiding a rather curvaceous--if a little generous--figure under those frumpy frocks you like to wear."

The sudden tangent this conversation had embarked upon took Caroline completely unawares. "How dare you talk to me like that!"

"Come now, it was a compliment!" Kettle chuckled. "For a woman of somewhat mature years, I actually think you are quite a looker."

To her chagrin, Caroline felt herself coloring up. "I-I--who do you think you are talking to?" she blustered.

"A rather pompous woman, who, if I have read the situation correctly, finds herself in a very precarious situation at the moment," Kettle said, with a nod toward a nearby computer.

The reminder had its effect and Caroline willed herself to calm down. Whatever this vulgar man had in mind would have to be weighed up against the terrible alternatives--because there was no escaping the fact that right now he held the power to destroy her life!

"Well, yes," Caroline said, clearing her throat. "And I did express my gratitude for your silence in that matter. But I ask you again, what exactly do you want in return?"

His greedy, leering eyes, combined with his recent inappropriate comment should have provided Caroline with a clue as to what was coming next, but even though she was an intelligent woman, the prospect of any improper conduct between them was far too outlandish for her to accept.

"Okay," Kettle, said, placing his hands flat on the desktop. "I'll give it to you in simple terms. As I told you over coffee, your little secret is safe with me. But naughty girls deserve to be punished, don't they? As a teacher, I'm sure you'll agree. So during your weekly detention periods, I'm going to do just that--punish you."

Caroline's head began to swim as the unthinkable started to come into focus.

"P-Punish? How?"

"Oh, I'll be thinking up a whole variety of ways over the coming months--and

I think you'll find that I can be very imaginative!"

Quite a looker? Curvaceous? Imaginative?

With a sudden twist of dread in her stomach, Caroline could no longer deny the implications of these menacing words. Although she had tried to dismiss it as too outrageous to ever become a reality, that nightmare was now in danger of coming true!

"Are you saying that you want to have--relations with me?"

"Relations!" Kettle chuckled annoyingly. "You really are an old-fashioned cow, aren't you? Well, it's going to be a little more inventive than that, but yes, you're finally on the right track. I thought you'd never get there. Why did you think I didn't just ask you for money in return for my silence? I want to play with you every week. You are going to have to submit to my every desire or face the consequences. That means you are going to have to climb down off that lofty perch and become my obedient little sex toy. Here in the deserted school, you will allow me to live out my fantasies, and in return you can go back to your snobbish lifestyle for the other six days of the week without fear of exposure. It's your choice--but I warn you now, once you have committed yourself to my demands, I will not tolerate any noncompliance on your part. If this becomes too much like hard work, the deal is off, and I will post those images of you stealing all over the internet."

"Y-You mean there are going to be more--detentions?"

"Oh yes," Kettle smiled. "You will commit all of your Saturdays to me from now on."

Caroline realized that in addition to the fire in her cheeks, she was breathing heavily and perspiring somewhat profusely.

"For how long?"

Kettle shrugged. "Who knows? A month? Six months? A year? Maybe more. Until I get bored, I guess. The point is, you get to keep your high society lifestyle. So make a decision, and make it now."

Feeling a little faint, Caroline mumbled, "I don't think I can--not with you!"

"Just let me take the lead," Kettle said. "All you have to do is follow my directions--without hesitation or question."

Caroline frantically considered her options. She had not been sexually active with Mr. Lambert for some years now. She was forty-three years old, with two grown up children in college. There had been one or two clumsy advances made upon her at some of the various functions she had attended on her own--middle-aged acquaintances taking advantage of a quiet moment away from prying ears to obliquely express their interest in her--but she had always regarded them with bewildered amusement. Surely her time for romantic adventure had passed. Admittedly, she recognized that she had been quite beautiful in her youth, but coming from a deeply Christian family, she had not been allowed to date until Mr. Lambert--with an equally devout background-- had declared his socially acceptable intention to marry her.

So Caroline had remained physically loyal to one man alone all these years, and she had never had a reason or the desire to stray. He was a decent man, if a little stuffy, and even if Caroline were to admit that her marriage had become a little stale over the years, there were the children to think of.

Affairs? Divorce? Unthinkable!

But now, Mike Kettle, a colleague whom she had had little prior cause to interact with, was articulating the same unsavory proclivities as her other, considerably more well-heeled, would-be suitors--only this time she was in no position to rebuff him!

Before answering, she fleetingly considered one other terrifying possibility--that of fronting up and admitting her crimes to her husband, thus negating any hold that Kettle had over her. The thought lasted but a nanosecond because she knew that her upstanding spouse would not be able to live with the shameful publicity, and her marriage and comfortable lifestyle would ultimately be over.

Her mouth dry, and with as much dignity as she could muster Caroline said,

"Very well, Mr. Kettle, what exactly would you like me to do?"

Chapter Two

Bingo!

Mike hadn't been altogether convinced that Mrs. Lambert would crumble, but having come this far, he had guessed correctly that she was already prepared to do whatever it took to save her reputation--within reason!

Now that he had her, it was a question of how quickly he should move things along. At least the naive bitch had finally cottoned on to the fact that her punishment would be of a sexual nature, and the fact that she hadn't bolted right there and then bode well for the rest of the afternoon. Although there was still a risk that she would have a change of heart and report him to her husband, Mike had a gut feeling that he was treading on continually firmer ground.

Ah well, in for a dime, in for a dollar!

"As I said just a moment ago, I've always wondered what kind of a figure you've been concealing from us, so why don't you begin by taking off that boring frock?"

Mrs. Lambert's lips parted, and she glanced frantically at the covered windows to her left. Her normally pale skin flushed pink, and Mike noticed that a little moisture had gathered in her green eyes. After a moment's deliberation, Mrs. Lambert slowly raised her trembling fingers and still looking off to the side, proceeded to pick open the buttons on the front of her frock.

Mike leaned forward as the material parted at the top, giving him a glimpse of her generous cleavage supported by her white brassiere beneath the string of pearls. He followed her fumbling digits down as she finally reached the bottom, but instead of taking it off, she held the two pieces together, still focusing her glistening eyes on the window blinds.

Her mouth had turned down at the corners in a combined expression of misery and disgust, and she really did look as though she was about to cry. My word, Mike thought, how will she react when she sees what I've got in store for her after this?

"Come on, Mrs. Lambert," Mike said, deciding that addressing her formally would heighten the sexual drama that was about to follow. "We haven't got all day. Well actually we have, but I'm getting impatient. Remember what I said? Too much like hard work and the deal is off."

That seemed to snap her out of her inertia, and with an expression of abject desolation on her face, Mrs. Lambert--the school principal's prudish and stuck-up wife!--shrugged the frock off her shoulders and, adding to Mike's enjoyment, carefully folded the garment before setting it on top of an adjacent school desk.

As Mike would have expected from such a prissy woman, she immediately folded her arms across her ample chest and tucked one knee behind the other. Mike wouldn't have been surprised if he was the only man other than her husband to have seen her in any state of undress. She was probably one of those wives who insisted that marital sex took place only under the bed covers and with the lights out! No, Mrs. Lambert's Rubenesque figure had most likely never been put on display outside of the privacy of her bathroom--but that was all about to change very soon!

"Put your arms down so I can see you properly," he said. "I meant it when I said I wanted to look at your body. And would you also kindly look at me? I don't know what you find so fascinating about those window blinds?"

With a pained expression lining her reddening face, Mrs. Lambert turned her head toward him but still refused to meet his eyes, preferring instead to fix her gaze on the blackboard behind him. Next, almost in slow motion, she unwrapped her arms from her body and brought them hesitantly down to her sides.

Now Mike could finally decide if his suspicions had been correct about her physique--and he wasn't disappointed. Yes, she obviously carried a bit of middle-aged weight, which meant that she was a little thick around the waist, her thighs were on the chunky side, and she had a little belly protruding slightly over the top of her dowdy white briefs, but all the bumps and dips were in the right places. And then there was the delectable sight of her considerable bust, the twin mounds of white flesh veritably shaking with every little movement she made and looking ready to burst out of her matronly bra!

Holy fuck! I can't wait to unleash those monsters!

Feeling his cock stiffening at the giddy prospect of playing with Mrs. Lambert's udders, Mike said, "Shoes and tights next, and no dawdling this time."

With just the briefest of delays, Mrs. Lambert leaned down, her strawberry blonde hair hanging forward along with her pearls, and her massive jugs swaying in their frumpy harness. Mike could only guess at how embarrassed she must be feeling while undressing in her own classroom for him, but that would be nothing compared to the abject humiliation he planned to heap upon her starting real soon!

Mrs. Lambert stepped out of her shoes, and after a certain amount of awkward tugging, pulled off her tights. Her legs were quite shapely, with surprisingly firm thighs and well-chiseled ballet dancer's calves--a feature that Mike thought would be greatly enhanced if he were to force her to parade around in a pair of five-inch heels!

Putting that heady idea on a backburner, Mike leaned back in his chair and let the poor woman suffer for a few moments. He could see from the anguish in her eyes that she had already descended into a forbidden world of sin just by stripping to her briefs and bra in front of him. Surely she had to be expecting his next two commands, although not necessarily in the order that kinky Mike had planned!

"Right, then," he said, brightly. "Let's get you out of those gigantic knickers, eh? Jesus Christ, you could go camping in those ugly things!"

His insulting banter must have registered with the tormented woman, because for the first time since she had commenced her unwilling striptease, Mrs. Lambert looked at his face. The slightest expression of contempt flickered in her eyes, quickly followed by a mixture of resignation and despair as she must have finally accepted that he really was going to make her strip completely naked!

Mike leaned forward, his chin in his hands, as the stricken teacher gripped the waistband of her briefs, and slowly eased them down over her thighs. His first introduction to Mrs. Lambert's most intimate parts was a most generous reddish-brown bush that sprouted free from the top of the descending material. It seemed that the pious lady was not in the habit of trimming herself down there! Inch by delightful inch, Mrs. Lambert's vulva came slowly into view and Mike's erection grew ever harder.

When she had worked her briefs down to her knees, Mrs. Lambert again bent forward, allowing Mike another unsparing view of her dangling cleavage. Now Mrs. Lambert was forced to part her knees slightly in order to maneuver her underwear down to her ankles. When it was finally free, she picked the item up between thumb and forefinger, making sure to cover her crotch with her other hand, and dropped it onto the desk beside her.