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  • Young Winston Ch. 05

Young Winston Ch. 05

CHAPTER FIVE

PRINCIPAL HARDEN

Nothing better reveals the shallow, hedonistic nature of Cocoa Beach than the utter silence that envelopes John Kennedy High School at three-forty on a Friday afternoon; you could fire broadsides down the hallways and not harm a fly, you could sit naked on top of the flagpole and not be seen by a soul. School lets out at three-thirty and those students and staff who haven't skulked or snuck out by then stampede for the door so as not to miss one second of their precious, fun loving weekend.

I was pondering this as I looked out my office window at the desolate parking lot, imagining tumbleweeds, like the ones I had known as a child, skittering and bounding by. There were only two cars in the parking lot, my Rambler and my secretary, Miss Daily's Mustang. The school was set on a hill in the middle of a cookie cutter suburb; it could just as easily have been on the moon.

I smiled and shook my head, so much the better to conduct activities best done without witnesses, activities that might easily be misunderstood. There were only three people in the school now, myself, my simple minded but devoted secretary, and Winston Smith, my most challenging student. I swiveled my chair back around to face the room.

"Back again, Mr Smith," I said, it was a statement not a question.

"Yes ma'am," the boy replied unfailingly polite as always, the little devil.

I had a well-appointed office; the prosperous people of Cocoa Beach lavished money on bricks and mortar; on people, not so much. He had been sent in directly from gym class which was his last subject of the day, and so he stood before me in the wide legged, short trunks that the children favored these days, a white t-shirt, white socks and runners. There were blood and grass stains on his usually immaculate shirt and grass in his vast tangled mop of blonde hair. He had very nice hair, but I questioned his mother's wisdom in letting it get so long. But he wasn't here about that, or the blood for that matter; a mere schoolyard fight wouldn't merit my attention even if it did involve an unrepentant troublemaker like young Winston.

I lounged in my chair behind my desk, he stood in front of it, loosely at ease, and Stella stood a little behind him fidgeting nervously. The eighteen-year-old looked down at me, straight into my eyes for a moment, and then returned his gaze to some fixed point in the distance like a trained soldier would do. His eye movement was deliberate, not hasty, and just a tad this side of insolent; all students, and even most teachers in this school would have been quaking in their boots had I fixed them with my stony, haughty stare. It was an effective stare. I know, having practiced it in the mirror for hours, yet it seemed to have no effect on this lad at all. It wasn't that he was stupid; on the contrary, he was the smartest kid in the school, which was what made him such an interesting challenge.

Having let the silence play out, I put on my glasses for effect and looked down at the file neatly centered on my spotless, nearly empty desk. I didn't have to read it, if I read anything once it remained lodged in my memory. "It seems, Mr Smith that this week you have managed to upset, appall, disorient, outrage and infuriate every one of your teachers in the humanities; tell me, what do you have against math?" I asked sarcastically.

"Math problems are boring, there's only one answer, ma'am," he replied looking me in the eye again.

I nodded; I might have said the same thing myself at a younger age. I stood up and moved around my desk; I wanted to get close to him again, to judge his reactions better.

"You have repeatedly disrupted lessons, embarrassed and discredited your teachers in front of other students, and refused to accept the received wisdom of this school, this state and this nation," I said as I slowly circled around behind him. In two-inch heels I was almost eye-to-eye with him; I got inside his personal space. "Although some discussion is encouraged, your remarks have been deemed to be blasphemous, obscene and even unpatriotic."

"I have always kept a respectful tone ma'am," he replied evenly although I caught him shivering a bit when he felt my breath on the back of his neck.

"Oh yes, always a respectful tone while you spout subversion and unproven theories," I snapped back at him. As I came around his other side I brushed my ample breasts against his arm, then I pressed in firmly. He held his ground. I took his chin in my hand and pulled his face around so that he could look into my domineering eyes. "You are not half as clever as you think you are, young man," I said.

He couldn't speak the way I had his mouth squished up in my hand so I nodded his head for him; "Yes ma'am," I said for him. With my free hand I gave his bum a hard swat. He didn't flinch, didn't try to speak, his expression didn't change a bit. I did it again, harder this time, and then looked down at his crotch to see if I was getting the desired reaction.

I have a lifetime's worth of experience with corporal punishment; I have been spanked, whupped, paddled, switched, canned, and any other word you care to use, and I have dished it out as well. For a very long time I had been a firm proponent of this kind of discipline, and even now I believe it has it's uses, however, one must move with the times, and obey the law, at least in the public sphere.

When I had come to this school as principal it had been in a state of near anarchy, and I had been able to restore order with rewards, threats, hard words and stern looks, but without the stick to back up the carrot I had been unable, after three years, to bring the academic standards up to what I considered an acceptable level. I was not alone in this, across the country teachers and principals complained of the lack of support from absentee parents, and unruly behavior by spoiled children. Many approaches had been taken and theories tested with little success, but I was convinced that I had a method that would work. It was radical to be sure, unacceptable, illegal, and no doubt considered immoral in most circles, but any idea that is to break new ground has to move beyond conventional bounds.

I had read, reflected and studied, and now I was ready to experiment; there was no better subject to measure it against than the tough, intelligent, precocious scamp standing before me.

"Doesn't your mother care about your poor grades," I asked moving around behind him. I slipped both my hands just inside the top of his shorts, and was rewarded with a definite flinch.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, and for the first time his mouth sounded a little dry.

"Does she punish you?"

"Yes ma'am."

I crouched down behind him and slowly pulled down his shorts and underwear, the head of his rather large penis was already up above the waistband in the front, so they came away without a snag. I let them fall to the floor and then ran my fingers over the faint marks on his bum.

"She still spanks you, at your age?" I asked with slight derision.

"Yes ma'am."

"Puts you over her knee?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Miss Daily, come look at this," I said and felt him tense a little more. I think of myself as a handsome woman with a mature and desirable body, but Miss Stella Nebraska Daily was a sex bomb in anyone's estimation. With red hair, striking blue eyes, full hips and breasts, and a narrow waist, she represented the current ideal of a sex kitten. Her perpetual look of helplessness only added to the effect. I knew that Winston, like all of the boys in my school were drooling over her, dreaming about her, imagining doing all manner of nasty things to her, and now here he was, balls naked, and no doubt feeling her sweet breath on his butt cheeks. He was unquestionably starting to wobble a bit.

"You poor thing," Stella breathed in her sultry voice as she stroked his ass.

He groaned a little, but stayed upright and managed to contain his juices as I stood up and moved back around in front of him. "Aren't you afraid that your mother will increase your punishment if your grades don't improve," I asked perching on the edge of my desk and undoing the silk cravat at my neck.

He took a deep breath, "Ahhhhh.... She... is mostly concerned that I do my chores around the house ... and uh, be polite at all times."

"Mmmmmm, and do you always obey your mother?" I asked as I undid the two buttons holding the blouse together and shrugged out of it.

"Yes ma'am."

Stella stood up, gliding herself along his back until she stood with her lips at the back of his neck. I strode back around my desk well aware of the bounce of my breasts in the loose brassiere I was wearing. His eyes followed me, watched me bend forward in an exaggerated way and retrieve a book from my desk drawer. His expression was more than a little strained now, but to his credit his hands remained fisted at his sides even as juices leaked out of the top of his rigid cock. I returned to the front of the desk and held the book up before his eyes. "This...... was found in your locker," I said dramatically.

He gulped, and then flinched and bent a little at the waist as Stella slipped one of her dainty hands around to brush his lower belly. "De Marmot's commentaries on the Old Testament, published in English only once, in eighteen-fifty-five; do you recognize it?"

"Yesssss ahhhh ma'am," he replied as Stella's fingers went up under his t-shirt and pinched one of his nipples.

I couldn't help but smile. "A rare book," I said looking at its faded leather cover; "Obscure, blasphemous, repeatedly and universally banned, condemned. It is actually still illegal to possess this book in the state of Florida." I moved up close to him and Stella backed away and came around and took up my spot against the desk. While she was pulling her tight sweater up over her cloud of fiery hair I reached down with my free hand and took hold of his thick shaft. It was incredibly hard, the skin wonderfully smooth, and I almost lost my concentration for a moment.

"Illegal to possess, down right criminal and scandalous to give to a minor," I said staring him evenly in his shining eyes.

He started to speak, but I stopped him by pressing tight against him and placing the book against his lips; "Don't bother to lie young man, there is only one way you could come into possession of a book such as this. We have already established you're mother's lack of interest in academic matters; I also happen to know that you spend your every free minute at the Cocoa Beach Public Library, and have a friendly, perhaps improper, relationship with its librarian, Miss Janet James."

I tossed the book onto the desk with a loud thud and shifted a little so that I pressed against him from the side and a little behind so I could get a good, functional grip on his cock. Stella looked very fetching as she reached around behind herself and unzipped her skirt. "Now, you don't want Miss James to go to jail do you?"

"No ma'am, no, absolutely not," he said emphatically, finally losing his composure. He tore his eyes off of Stella, who was unfastening her bra, and looked me in the eye. "Please Principal Harden, don't tell anyone about it."

There it was finally, a request, an admission of weakness, of need for help. I gave him several long, loving strokes flicking the head of his cock with my thumb.

"Well, that depends on your cooperation, Winston," I replied. "I want to see if I can change your behavior, I want to see if I can turn you into a good boy."

"Yes ma'am, yes ma'am, I'll be good, just don't tell."

"Oh no, I don't want you to promise to be good, because I blackmail you; what I want is for you to cooperate with me while I make you good."

Stella was stepping out of her panties, and yet his eyes never left my face, he was that concerned about Miss James; they must be very good friends indeed, I thought.

"Just tell me what you want me to do ma'am," he said a little desperately as I reached down to stroke his swollen balls.

"You see Winston, you're problem is that you have the devil in you," I said in a throaty whisper as Stella came up to him on the other side. "A big, hot, load of the devil that needs to be driven out of you so that you can calm down and behave like a reasonable young man."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied cautiously while Stella pulled his t-shirt up over his chest and pressed her naked tits against his bare side.

"It's as simple as that," I whispered deep in his ear, and when Stella reached down and took his shaft in one hand and grabbed his ass with the other, the devil came exploding out of him in an impressive fountain that shot up almost to the level of our chins. It kept coming for quite a while, only slowly diminishing in power with each spurt.

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