Part 6
 

He was a monster, thought William. An abuser. Unfit to be around children, and without a doubt he should be removed from his position as swiftly as had Mr. Finn the night before.

But still he turned the panties over and over in his hand, memorizing every little swirl of lace.

They’d been soaked through when he’d taken them from her. He’d been touching them for so long that there was only a tiny damp spot in the center now, a pearly reminder that his perversity was not as unwelcome as it should be.

But even if she had found something to enjoy in their encounter, that did not make it right.

He must never be alone with her again; that was the only way. He’d maintain a professional distance, and if she required disciplining in the future, he would have the dean of students take care of it. She would undoubtedly find more civilized ways to provide correction.

But first he should really have a word with Miss Summers, to make his apologies and inquire as to her health.

Perhaps she needed him to kiss it better.

‘That’s it,” William exploded, leaping out of his chair and stalking from the office. He needed relief and needed it now.

He couldn’t wait another moment.

~*~*~*~

Buffy rushed past the students streaming into the dining hall, went straight up the stairs and ran into her room. Thank god it was empty, because she didn’t think she could look anyone in the eye right now.

That bastard—that creep—that disgusting, perverted—

Was there any chance he didn’t notice how wet her panties were?

God knows what he was doing with them right now. Sniffing them? Tasting them? Wrapping them around his cock and stroking himself off? That big long shaft in his hands, the one she’d felt stabbing her while he spanked her? He’d rubbed himself against her and she thought he was going to keep her there until he came all over her uniform. It was sick…disgusting….

Why did he stop?! thought Buffy unreasonably.

Stop that! You did NOT enjoy it, she told herself.

Liar.

He liked it, so why had he sent her away? Didn’t he want her? Or was he just using her?

Oh god, what if he was like that with all the girls at the school?

Okay, that was it. She had to have a talk with some of the other girls, and she had to do it now. They were at dinner, and if she hurried she could still get some food and grill them while she was at it. Ask them if he’d ever touched them like he had her. Pushed their skirt up. Laid his hand on them, spanking them until it almost felt like stroking.

Taken their panties afterward because he didn’t want to forget what had happened.

Christ.

Maybe she’d talk to them. Maybe.

But first the showers were deserted, for once, and she thought she’d like a nice, long, private shower, one where she wouldn’t be seen by the others. She’d just taken a shower half an hour before, but she felt…dirty.

In a good way.

~*~*~*~

“Move your leg,” growled William to Jenny Calendar, his sometime-girlfriend, as he dragged the bottom of her shirt up to expose her breasts. He’d appeared without warning, and neither of them had taken the time to undress before he pulled her into the bedroom, merely pushing the their clothes aside. She’d been startled by his urgency—usually he was a man who liked to take his time. In fact, she was thrilled by the way he drew everything out.

But then again, she seemed to be enjoying the desperation that he’d displayed ever since he pounded on her door a few minutes before.

She shifted her leg, and he slipped between her thighs to prod demandingly at her entrance.

As soon as he’d left his office, he’d gotten into his car and burned rubber all the way into town. He hoped to god nobody he knew saw him driving like a maniac, but he had to do something, anything, to get Buffy out of his system.

And at the moment, Jenny was the only option he was able to come up with.

She didn’t seem to mind, her arms tangling around his head as he nuzzled her breasts, stroking her hands through his thick golden brown hair and rumpling it into disarray. “Will—” she moaned, clutching at him.

Jenny was lovely. Dark hair and eyes, quiet and watchful. He’d always liked spending time with her, enjoying their time in bed and out of it as well.

But all he could think now was that her hair was the wrong color, and the mouth pressing kisses into his hair was ladylike, not impudent and lush.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” William muttered, pulling away from Jenny, vaguely aware of her protests as he started to drag his pants back up.

“Will? What are you doing?” she demanded, sitting up on the bed in frustration.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I made a mistake.”

And he could already tell that he was about to make a bigger one.

He didn’t know who he was when he’d dragged her across him and spanked her. He’d never done anything like that in the past, never even thought about it.

Of course, he hadn’t really thought of it this time, either; she’d snapped his self-control, something he seldom lost. She, he thought, was as shocked as he was.

But when she was standing there, after he’d pushed her off his lap, there was a look in her eyes…hurt and surprised, but also…excited?

She liked it, a little voice whispered to him. William pushed the thought away. But it wouldn’t leave his mind. It was all he could think of.

And maybe there are other things she’d like, too.

Part 8

The voices faded away as William kissed her hungrily. When he took her lower lip between his and began to suckle she became lightheaded, only returning to herself when she felt his hands dragging her pristine white shirt out from her plaid skirt and sliding his hands beneath, rubbing against her as he pulled back for a minute to murmur against her ear. "Are you on the pill?" he growled.

It took her a moment to register what he'd said. "No," she said dazedly. Her parents had kept her on such a short leash the last few months she hadn't been able to get her prescription refilled. She felt him tense as he cursed against her hair. She looked at him curiously. "Don't you have…you know, protection?" she asked
worriedly. She thought, wildly, that if she had to wait for him any longer she'd go insane.

As it happened, he had a vague memory of pulling out his last condom at Jenny's and tossing it on the night table. Goddammit.

He looked at the worry on her face and wanted to drag off her clothes right there in front of his house, in the broad daylight. "Actually, I'm out," he admitted reluctantly.

Her face fell, and he laughed softly. He really shouldn't laugh at her, but her transparent eagerness was delicious. "Don't worry, kitten. There are other things we can do."

She looked up at him, her eyes glittering with anticipation. "Show me," she breathed.
 

~*~*~*~
 

As they stumbled through the door he managed to remember to lock it. A good thing, considering they were both risking expulsion.

He pushed her onto the closest piece of furniture, a sofa, holding her down as he straddled her. She turned her face up, angling for a kiss, but he chuckled softly and straightened up out of reach. "Now, now, we really have to get to know each other better, don't we?" he taunted softly. Beneath him she whimpered, pushing her hips up to grind against his erection. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the contact, before pushing down so that she couldn't move her hips.

"Come on, sweetness, I'm in charge here," he reminded her.

She whimpered in response, licking her lips.

His eyes sparked and he reached down to trace her lips with his tongue. She moaned under the torture, opening her mouth to urge him inside, reaching out with her own tongue to draw him in. He allowed
her to stroke his tongue, but ignored the blatant invitation.

"Now tell me, Miss Summers, about your sexual history," he purred, grinding his hardness into her and sucking briefly on the tip of her tongue as another moan escaped her.

"I—I—" she gasped, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Are you a virgin?" he drawled. He knew she wasn't.

"Ah—ahhh—"

"Here?" he whispered, slipping a hand beneath her skirt and pressing it against her pussy, stroking the sodden material of her panties with his nimble fingers.

Her face was now a study in ecstasy, her eyes closed, her head thrown back.

He squeezed a little, making her eyes fly open. "Pay attention, Miss Summers," he reprimanded her.

She began to pant now. "No," she groaned.

"No, what?"

"No, I'm not a virgin," she whimpered. He rewarded her obedience with a brief kiss, chuckling again as she tried desperately to hold his mouth to hers.

"And what about here? Are you a virgin here?" he queried, sliding his hand beneath her and insinuating one clever finger against her other hole.

She gasped and bucked against his hand, unable to believe the things he was saying, where he was touching her. He wasn't really going to—wasn't going to—"Yes," she moaned. "I mean no. I mean, I haven't."

"Well, that's fine," he praised her, pressing kisses against her damp forehead, before sliding down and pushing his tongue into her mouth, teasing hers as it curled around his wildly. He drew back a little,
finally putting his hands on her shoulders to hold her back as she hungrily tried to prolong the contact. "And what about there?" he whispered.

"There?" Buffy repeated stupidly. If he wanted her to think, he shouldn't touch her, because that interfered with the whole thinking thing.

"Your mouth, Miss Summers. Has anyone ever fucked your mouth?"

Considering he had his hands all over her and she would have given her trust fund to have him fucking her right then, Buffy was surprised by the way she blushed at the question. "I've given, you know, blow jobs," she said awkwardly.

"That's not quite the same thing, baby," he told her, bending forward to nuzzle against her throat. "Do you like getting them?" he asked, his voice muffled against her.

"I've never gotten one," she admitted, squirming closer.

He clucked his tongue sympathetically. "And why is that?"

"Lousy selfish boyfriends?" Buffy suggested.

He trailed kisses up her throat and pushed her eager lips apart, taking what she offered so eagerly. For several moments only the wet sounds of their kissing and the low moans that escaped them were all
that broke that silence of the room. Finally he pulled back, sliding off the couch to kneel on the floor. "Looks as if your education's been sorely lacking. I think it's time to remedy that, don't you?" he asked, skimming his hands up her legs and under the waistband of her panties, just like he had in her dream.

For a moment her heart thumped so loudly she thought he must have heard it. She couldn't say anything, couldn't speak. She nodded, and hoped it was enough.

She couldn't bear it if he stopped.

He fondled her knees for a moment before pushing them apart, bracing her feet against the seat of the couch and spreading her open for his viewing. He stroked his hands up her thighs, pushing the little
pleated skirt up to her waist and leaving her revealed before him, all fresh and pink and voluptuous, her arousal perfuming the air and forming darling little droplets in her dark blonde curls.

He gently placed the heels of his hands against her thighs and studied at her for several moments, staring at her until she began to squirm and whimper.

Then, without warning, he stroked his thumbs up her slit, parting her as he ran his tongue up against her inner lips. She bucked ferociously against his mouth. Jesus, why hadn't any of her boyfriends done that to her before? Bastards!

Abruptly he sat back on his heels, watching her struggle in vain to continue the contact. "More!" she gasped.

"More, what?" he asked her in amusement.

"More, please?"

He laughed. "Good enough for now," he said, lowering his face and tonguing her. Her loud shriek told him exactly what she much she liked it. Up, down, against her inner lips, occasionally darting inside but avoiding her clit.

Capturing his head between her hands, she thrust shamelessly against his face, and felt him smile against her.

It made her even hotter.

"Now, now," she cried frantically, rubbing against him insistently.

She let go of him for a moment and reached to finger her clit but he batted her hand away. "Did I tell you that you could do that?" he growled against her, and she shuddered.

"No-oo-o," she moaned.

"That's right," he muttered, burying his head against her again as she pushed toward his face pleadingly. He was rock-hard and aching, and it was time to give them both what they needed.

He latched on to her clit and began to suckle. He hadn't had the succulent little morsel between his lips for more than a few seconds before she came, her juices flooding his chin. He took his time cleaning her, drawing out her pleasure with long slow licks as she shuddered and sighed, the last remnants of her climax shivering through her.

Finally he stood up and surveyed her, sprawled on the couch, her skirts rucked up around her waist and her knees splayed wide, head lolling back, drunk with pleasure. Gorgeous.

He took her hand to pull her up, only to find it limp. He patted it a few times. "Buffy," he called softly.

Finally her eyes opened sleepily. "That was amazing," she said, dazed.

He smiled indulgently. "I'm glad, kitten," he told her.

After a moment or two her eyes widened and she gasped comically. "What about you?" she blurted out.

He responded by reached down and scooping her up. "I've waited about as long as I can," he admitted, striding through the house until they reached his bedroom. He tossed her on the bed, then stood watching her as he pulled off his clothes.

Her eyes grew large as she stared at his lean body. His hips were as narrow as they'd felt when he'd pressed her against the door in his office, but his arms were surprisingly muscular and his six-pack was
clearly delineated. And below—below—

God.

"Fezuh," said Buffy.

"What was that?" asked William in surprise.

"Nothing," muttered Buffy.

He walked over to the bed and knelt on it, grasping the neckline of her shirt and pulling her closer to him. "You," he told her firmly, "have on entirely too many clothes."

"Maybe you should do something about it," she breathed.

"You know, I think I will," he drawled, pulling off her clothes in short order. He wanted to draw things out, but couldn't wait another moment.

Then she was naked before him. He stared at her without shame, and after a moment she stopped her embarrassed squirming. He looked at her like she was a goddess, and that was how she felt when his eyes were on her.

"Wh—what are we going to do?" she asked, uncertain.

He smiled, and pulled her closer to him, until they were facing each other, knee to knee, almost touching. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the curve of her throat and she sighed, wrapping her arm around his neck.

Then she felt his fingers probing at her still-wet center, stroking. She followed his lead and moved her free hand to his long, sleek shaft. She wanted to study him, to memorize him, but first she wanted to give him pleasure like he'd given her. She began pumping him slowly, increasing the speed as she felt his breathing quicken.

She felt full and soft herself, replete. She almost giggled to herself as she thought that he was doing this in the wrong order; if he'd wanted her to come twice, he should have fingered her the first time and gone down on her the second. She didn't think she could come again for a week, she was so satiated.

But his fingers were clever, and arousal began to creep through her again. But still she didn't think she could come—not after—

Crack! Without warning his free hand smacked down on her ass.

She gasped, startled. "What are you—"

Crack!

Shocked, she felt her nipples tighten almost painfully, and her clit rose insistently against his fingers.

Crack!

She came against him again, shivering and screaming. Her arm on his neck tightened as if she was holding on for dear life.

Perhaps she was.

Part 9

Buffy wasn't paying much attention to her Latin instructor—she didn't even try pretending. Instead she just stared off into space and thought about the night before. How Mr. Bloodsworth—William, she corrected herself—had held her down and taunted her, touching her until she wanted to scream, and then buried his face against her until she really did scream.

And then later, in his bedroom, he'd used his hands to make her come again, come so hard she was barely aware of his cock bucking in her hand. It wasn't until she was laying back, dazed, and he was leaning above her stroking his come across her belly, that she realized he'd gotten off, too. He touched her in wonderment as she panted and slowly returned to reality, then bent close and licked her body clean of his spendings.

She was barely aware that someone had entered the room and given the teacher a note until she heard her name being called. "Miss Summers, you're excused for the rest of class," Mr. Simms told her, waving her to the front of the room and handing her a folded slip of paper. "Don't forget tomorrow's assignment, it's in your workbook."

Buffy didn't unfold the note until she had left the class and shut the door behind her. "Buffy Summers is to report to the headmaster's office immediately." Nothing else.

It wasn't a very romantic note. Buffy remembered wandering into her first period late—he'd worn her out but good—and had just shrugged when the teacher had asked why she was late. What was she supposed to say? Sorry, the headmaster was fucking my brains out all night, and I overslept? Saying nothing was the tactful thing under the circumstances. Could the teacher have complained about her—about her tardiness, and her attitude?

The perfectly pleasant-looking middle aged woman in front of William's office looked up when she arrived. "Miss Summers?" she asked. Buffy nodded. "Mr. Bloodsworth is expecting you. Please go on in."

Buffy opened the door a little apprehensively and walked in. "Mr. Bloodsworth?" she asked nervously. She hadn't actually called him William to his face yet, and besides, his secretary might be listening.

William looked up from his work. "Ah, Miss Summers, good. Come with me," he told her, rising and walking past her out the door. Like the night before had never happened.

She hurried after him as he told his secretary he'd be back shortly and then left the building, obviously expecting Buffy to just follow after him. Which she did, of course. She followed him across the front of the building, down a lane, and finally to a small garage, which he opened to reveal the black Lexus she'd seen him driving the day before. "Get in," he told her, unlocking the passenger-side door.

"Where are we going?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

"We have an appointment in town," he told her absently, sitting down and starting the car. "Don't forget your seatbelt."

"Umm…okay," she replied, bewildered, obediently buckling herself in.

He didn't seem inclined to talk as he drove through the pretty countryside, the woods surrounding the school displaying their fall colors of red and gold and brown. He had something on his mind, apparently, and she was too shy to broach last night with him.

Of course, she felt stupid for being shy with him. There was no reason to be shy. He liked her the way she was. Right?

"Where are we going?" she asked baldly.

That seemed to snap him out of his little trance. "Into town," he repeated. "I've made you an appointment at the local family planning clinic. We have to get you on the pill, don't we?"

To his bemusement, she blushed and ducked her head when he said that.

"Don't you want to?" he asked carefully. She'd enjoyed the night before—he had little fingertip-sized bruises from where she'd squeezed him as she shrieked and thrashed—but perhaps he was assuming too much.

Perhaps last night had been a one-time deal for her.

"If you don't want to, that's okay, I completely understand," he began awkwardly, feeling stupid and helpless. God, he'd made a fool of himself—lusting after her like a lecherous old man, the worst sort of pervert. Watching her with her saucy little walk, wanting to have her all to himself. She wasn't his, she was only a young girl still—

He still wanted her! "Okay, no, that's good," she breathed in relief. God, he'd seemed so remote—she'd felt sure something was wrong.

She reached out to touch his knee. "It'll, you know, be a while before it takes effect," she pointed out. She felt him quiver under her touch, and a sense of her own feminine power blossomed inside her. He was masterly and beautiful, but she could make him tremble.

"I'll get some condoms while we're in town," he said, his voice low. He was trying not to drive off the road; he wanted to pull the car over and thrust into her, protection be damned. Feel her tight heat around him, clenching him, milking him dry, while he ravaged her mouth and her little hands tightened on his tensing buttocks. Her long legs wrapped around his hips, her heels stabbing the backs of his thighs. Breathing in her needy sighs as she panted and going on and on until both of them came and their cream overflowed onto the car's upholstery.

Drive. Look at the road, and drive.

"Where can we…you know," she asked, moving her hand around. Stroking him. "At school?"

He hadn't really thought of it, actually. He was the headmaster of the school, but he didn't have some sort of ducal privilege that allowed him free reign with the students; they'd have to be discreet. "My house," he told her finally. "No one goes there except me. No one would know."

She nodded.

"You got up to your room okay last night?" he reassured himself. He'd watched from a distance as she'd returned to the dorm last night; he couldn't stop himself from making sure she made it inside safely, but accompanying her would have been dangerously blatant.

As it stood, he wasn't sure how safe it was to bring her out of class and drive her into town, but he wasn't just going to tell her to catch a bus after school. He'd had reason in the past to drive students into town, usually for urgent family concerns or the occasional sensitive situation in which the students' families wanted special care taken with their children. It was unusual, but not enough to raise eyebrows.

She nodded. "My roommate woke up and I had to make up some story, though, about falling asleep while studying in someone's room," she told him.

"Do you think she believed it?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't think she was awake enough to care," she said honestly.

Perhaps he should arrange for Buffy to have a private room, he thought absently. Not that he'd visit her there, of course—that was far too risky—but it would prevent any suspicion from developing on the part of her roommate. That might not be necessary, though.

They'd be more careful in the future.


~*~*~*~


There wasn't an exam, to Buffy's relief—she was taken to an exam room, but she was just asked a bunch of questions and then filled out some forms, and they handed her the pills on the way out. William was waiting for her in the reception area, a small paper bag in his hand. A bag with a box in it.

Actually, she found out later, it had a few boxes in it.

"You're supposed to take them at the same time every day," he said hollowly, opening the car door for her.

She stared at him. His voice sounded funny, and he had a strange look on his face. "I know, they told me," she dismissed. "Did something happen in there? Did they say something to you?"

He was silent for a few minutes as they left the town behind them and sped through the woods. Finally he said, his voice tight, "They thought I was your father."

Oh.

Buffy couldn't think of anything to say.

Abruptly he swerved off the road, flipped off the engine and turned to her with his eyes burning. "They thought I was your father," he repeated. She started in surprise as he suddenly reached over and grabbed her, dragging her from her seat until she was on top of him.

He stared at her, his gaze hungry. "And it didn't bother me nearly as much as it should," he rasped, crushing his mouth against hers.

They clung together fiercely, pulling at each other's clothes. He yanked her shirt out from her waistband and pushed it up. He didn't bother to unhook her bra, that would take time, just dragged it up with the shirt until her she was revealed to him. "Mine," he whispered harshly, his hands lifting her forward to meet his mouth, tasting her nipples first with tender little licks before sucking them into his mouth and drawing strongly on them, one after the other, until she was grinding her teeth together, trying not to scream.

She wrapped both arms around his neck, pressing closer to his greedy mouth even as she shamelessly rubbed herself against his thigh. God, she was going to finish before he'd even unzipped his pants.

"Can't wait," she whimpered, pushing into him. He grunted against her breast and reached over with one hand to fumble with the bag on the dashboard, finally tearing the box open with a vicious rip. A moment later his knuckles rubbed against her as he unzipped his pants and she gasped and pressed against them, desperate.

Another time he might have tried for more finesse, but he was beyond the niceties. As soon as the condom was in place he pushed her thong aside and thrust into her, and they both groaned at the sensation. Neither moved for a few moments as they both drank in the sensations.

Finally Buffy began to rise and fall on top of him. Her head fell back as she rode him slowly, feeling the hard plastic of the steering wheel against her back and the equally rigid muscles of his thighs beneath her. His hands gripped her hips, not guiding her but worshipping her, urging her on. "Perfect…." He whispered, awed by way they fit. She was so tight, her pussy fit him like a glove. Every time she rose on his cock he felt her muscles clinging to him as if loathe to release an inch of him.

Above him, her panting began to quicken and he reached between them, nudging her panties aside so he could roll her clit between his fingers. She clenched and gasped and squeezed him so tight he thought for a moment she might emasculate him, and then pleasure seared him and he stopped caring.

Maybe he blacked out for a few minutes, or maybe his spirit just left his body or something. The next thing he knew he looked up and she was staring down at him, her shirt and bra still pushed over her beautiful tits, which were wet from his mouth and exposed to any who drove past them.

"That was nice," she whispered, dazed.

"Nice," he echoed stupidly. He wished he could think of something good to say, something she'd remember for the rest of her life, but he was just happy to have regained the power of speech.

Well, if he couldn't tell her how much he'd enjoyed it, he'd just have to show her.

He felt sure he'd find a way.



Continued...