Langley Circle Beginning Ch. 01

'Beth, please see me later to discuss your attitude.'

Dean frowned. That was a bit lame. He deleted the message and tried again.

'Beth, please see me later tonight. I wish to discuss your behaviour today.'

Better, but it still needed to be more playful, and perhaps place more emphasis on the school theme.

'Miss Carhill. Please come and see me in my office after lessons, we need to discuss your behaviour today.'

That was much better. Using her maiden name was a nice touch. It created a little bubble of a fantasy world, and alluded back to a time when she actually had still been in college. Was the message too harsh though? After some thought, he added a smiley that looked both cheeky and stern at the same time, and a heart for good measure. He took a deep breath, and tapped send. He only had to wait a few moments for a reply.

'Yes Sir Mr. Parker.'

Holy crap! There was no doubt she had understood his meaning and was adopting the role of the student. Dean's pulse quickened; Things were getting real. Another message arrived quickly on the heels of the first.

'Please sir, what time will you be in your office?'

Dean smirked and tapped out his reply.

'My faculty meeting has just finished, I will be in my office from 6.'

'Thank you sir, I will be there'

Dean grinned so wide that his cheeks began to hurt. Flicking off his workstation, he grabbed up his things and headed for the door.

As he passed by Megan's desk, he threw her a little wave. "See you tomorrow Megan."

"Goodnight Mr. Parker, have a fun evening." She winked, causing him to stumble and almost knock over the water cooler as he headed for the basement car park.

=== === ===

Beth grinned goofily and fiddled with the hem of her skirt as she squirmed in anticipation on the chair outside the study. So far, things had worked out better than she could have possibly hoped.

Dean's initial reaction to the photo had caused a panty-wetting flush of goose bumps all over her body. For the remainder of the day she had been practically giddy with excitement at the prospect of what might happen when he got home. She had remained in the outfit for a while, taking a few more pictures and getting thoroughly worked up into a tightly coiled spring of horniness. Unable to resist any longer, she had finally sunk to all fours, leaned forward onto the bed, and fingered herself to a shuddering climax while watching in the mirror. She had told herself that it had been necessary, in order to regain a small amount of self-control. Afterwards she had changed back into her normal clothes and packed the uniform back in the bottom of the wardrobe, hoping it wouldn't be long before she needed it again.

It had required a herculean effort of will to focus on anything for the rest of the day, but she had turned to housework in an attempt to distract herself from thoughts of how horny Dean might be when he got home. When the message arrived saying that he wanted to see her in his office after lessons, she had been in the utility room folding sheets, and had actually squealed with delight and danced a jig.

Now it was five minutes to six and she was once more dressed in the same outfit as before. The green and red school tie, pinched from her daughter's closet, was fixed loosely around her neck, with the knot low enough to allow for a very generous view of cleavage. Her tummy was performing pleasurable somersaults of nervous excitement, her nipples were already visibly erect, and as she shifted on the chair, she was very aware of the damp patch forming on the front of her knickers.

It seemed like she had been waiting for ages, but in reality she knew only a few minutes had passed. Maybe she would slip a hand under her skirt to satisfy the building ache between her legs, just to pass the time. Before she got the chance, she heard the front door opening. A rush of nervous excitement had her literally bouncing up and down on the chair; she hurriedly fought to curb her enthusiasm, outwardly at least.

There came the sound of keys dropping on the table by the door, and then slow, heavy footsteps as her husband climbed the stairs. God, he was going to make her wait even longer, this was driving her crazy. She nervously fiddled with her pigtails, guiding the ends forward over her shoulders to rest on her chest. She drew slow deep breaths and listened, but there was nothing to be heard save for the thumping of her own heart. After a few moments, the sound of footsteps on the stairs came again. Beth glanced to the side, waiting to catch a glimpse of him through the glazed door at the end of the hallway. When a figure finally loomed on the other side of the frosted glass, she quickly snapped her gaze back to the floor at her feet.

The door opened and he walked slowly along the hall, his shoes clicking softly on the hardwood flooring. The tingling excitement spread from her tummy throughout her entire body; the desire to feel his touch was beginning to consume her; she buried her hands beneath her thighs to conceal the nervous trembling of her fingers.

He stopped at her side, but she didn't dare look up, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. Was he actually genuinely angry? She wasn't sure if she could deal with that in her present condition. She wanted to ride this state of tingling arousal as long as possible, preferably until he was deep inside her. If on the other hand she looked at him and saw no trace of anger, but lust and desire instead, she would probably abandon the roleplay and beg to be fucked right there on the floor.

"Miss Carhill," he said, his voice cracking.

He must be nervous. Seeing him use her maiden name in his message had given her an extra thrill, and hearing it now was like opening a portal that stretched back 20 years. She instantly felt younger and more vulnerable; it was wonderfully tantalising.

"Yes sir." The tremble in her own voice surprised her.

"On time; that's something at least."

A little calmer now, this was good, he was getting more confident. She so desperately wanted him to take charge of the situation.

"Please wait here for a moment; I am not ready for you yet."

A wavering fragility had crept into his voice. That was not so good. Why wasn't he just leading her into the study now? Why was he delaying? A nagging doubt began to seep in. She looked up at his face searchingly, trying to determine his intention. There, in his eyes, she saw a burning passion and desire, but something else as well, fear, anxiety, a faltering uncertainty even. Beth was suddenly struck by the terrifying realisation that he might not actually want to do this. Her brow creased as a chilling sensation spread outwards from the base of her spine. Perhaps this had all been a terrible mistake. She opened her mouth to speak, to apologise, to call it off, but he held up his hand silencing her.

"I said, wait here!"

His voice was even shakier this time, and thick with emotion, but before she could do or say anything else, he entered the study, pulling the door closed behind him.

Beth slumped down into the chair and squeezed her eyes tight in frustration. What had she done? They had been fine before; now he was full of uncertainty and doubt. Had she unwittingly pressured him into participating in something that was actually more her fantasy rather than a shared one? Why had she messed with things? She suddenly wished she could turn the clock back and start the day again. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she fought hard to stop her bottom lip from quivering. She needed to call this off, right now.

She sprang up and reached for the door handle, jumping back in alarm when his loud voice came booming from the other side. "Come!"

She took a deep breath, turned the handle and stepped into the office. It was time to put a stop to this charade.

"Stand in front of my desk please Beth."

His voice was steady and firm now, not like before. Gone was the crack of emotion and the indecision. This was different. She hesitated in the doorway, studying him. He sat straight backed in the chair, returning her stare with a cool calm one of his own. She flicked her gaze to the desk; it was free from its usual clutter, only a single whiskey tumbler rested in front of him, a few drops of golden liquid languishing at the bottom. He picked up the glass and calmly moved it aside.

"I don't have all day Beth."

His words jolted her from her stupor, and she shuffled forwards onto the circular rug; the tumbling butterflies had returned. She stopped a few feet from the desk and bowed her head, loosely clasping her hands in her lap. Long Moments passed. She began to feel a bit awkward, Dressed the way she was. The nerves were back, bringing with them a heat that rose to her cheeks.

"Now Beth--"

"Lizzie," she said, the word tumbling from her mouth.

"Pardon me?"

"It's Lizzie sir; my name is Elizabeth, but I prefer Lizzie."

She had insisted on being called Lizzie all the way through school and college , and it wasn't until leaving that she had reverted to Elizabeth; or Beth to her friends. Lizzie sounded more appropriate for a naughty schoolgirl.

Dean remained silent, and she risked a quick glance up. There was a crooked little smirk on his face, but when he noticed her watching him, he quickly wiped the smile away. She instantly snapped her gaze back down to the rug, but couldn't stop a grin of her own flashing briefly across her face. She began to relax, and as she did so, the anticipation and arousal started to build again.

"Lizzie. I have asked you to see me because of your behaviour earlier today. Do you have anything to say about the message I received from you?"

"Well sir," Beth said pitching voice a fraction higher than normal. "It was a mistake. It was meant for someone else sir." She wrung her hands in her lap, occasionally snagging at her skirt, raising and lowering the hem an inch each time.

"A likely story," he said in a loud barking voice, making her wince. He must have noticed her reaction, because the next time he spoke, his voice was softer, whilst still firm and steady.

"As a student in your final year at this establishment, you are meant to be setting a good example. after all, you are technically an adult now in the eyes of the law. The fact that you sent that picture to me was bad enough, but at the time of receiving your message, my secretary was standing at my desk, and I am afraid it was actually her who saw your photo first."

Beth's eyes bulged and her jaw dropped. What the fuck? Oh my god, had that really happened? She looked up sharply and noticed his stern expression; albeit one that was barely masking the shadow of a smirk. Suddenly the absurdity of what he had said hit her; she barked out a single loud laugh, before clamping a hand to her mouth to stifle further giggles.

Megan had actually seen that photo. That was... Well, what was that exactly? How did she feel about that? It was funny, that was for sure. Dean must have been so embarrassed, Megan too for that matter. Beth's own Embarrassment surfaced, intensifying the heat in her cheeks. Oh my god. Megan had seen her dressed in a school uniform with her hand down the front of her knickers. She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and sighed.

Dean rose and walked around the table; she stiffened and lowered her eyes back to the rug. As he came to stand before her, she couldn't help but notice the large bulge in the front of his trousers. A delicious wave of excitement pulsed through her body centring at the top of her thighs.

"So you see Miss Carhill, not only were you using a mobile phone during school, which is against the rules, but you sent an indecent photograph to the headmaster which was then seen by another member of staff. This is very serious."

As he spoke, he slowly stalked around to stand behind her; the smell of his after-shave was delicious and her skin tingled under his intense gaze. He was no doubt drinking in the sight of her curvy arse wrapped in the ludicrously short skirt, and she ached for him to reach out and destroy the invisible barrier between them.

"Yes sir, sorry sir," she said.

He moved even closer, his warm breath tickling the fine hairs on the back of her neck. "And that is not all, not by a long shot," he said in a slow ponderous voice.

Her body tensed in anticipation; was he going to kiss the back of her neck? Muscles deep inside her clenched as she swayed ever so slightly, her body yearning to feel him. God this was so hot, but how long would she be able to bear the anticipation?

"Oh?" She managed to croak the single word out.

She jumped as his fingertips made contact with the back of her thighs, a fraction below the hemline of her skirt. The breath caught in her throat as his fingers slid upwards with an agonizing slowness, leaving a lingering buzzing sensation over the nerve endings. He grasped the hem of her skirt, and the anticipation of his next move caused her to tense up. Surely, her knees would give out at any moment. Then suddenly he was gone, moving away to pace around the study. Beth breathed out abruptly, blinking rapidly at the sudden sense of loss.

"According to the uniform code," he said, "skirts should be no higher than two inches above the knee when measured from a kneeling position. I suspect your skirt does not meet these requirements."

She almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of this. Her skirt was so far away from meeting that requirement that it was ridiculous. "But sir, it does," she said, trying to regulate her breathing and exude innocence.

"Well, let's find out," he said as he moved to stand in front of her once more.

She looked up into his eyes; His stare burned with an intense mixture of desire and determination. Oh my god, that look. She practically turned to jelly, fighting the urge to collapse into his arms right there and then.

"When you're ready Miss Carhill," he said.

Did he want her to kneel down? Oh god yes, she so wanted to be on her knees before him right now. She glanced down, the moisture evaporating from her mouth as she realised she would be lowering directly in front of his beautiful bulging cock. She began to ease down to the rug.

"No, not that way Lizzie," he said causing her to freeze half way to her knees. "Up here." He stepped back and patted the desk.

Well that was an interesting idea. She took a tentative step forward. How on earth was she meant to get up on the desk in a dignified manner? She suddenly realised that was the whole point, she wasn't meant to be dignified about it. Nice play hubby. He had retreated to sit behind the desk and was now rummaging around in one of the drawers, keeping his eyes fixed on her. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

She lifted one foot up onto the wooden desk top, which caused her skirt to ride up to her waist. This gave him a perfectly clear and open view of her knickers. She pretended to be adjusting her balance so he could get a good long look at the black silk underwear. His lips parted slightly as he stared at her smooth thighs and the small triangle of material covering her sex. Well that had worked quite well. Right, time to see if she could pull off part two of this acrobatic feat. With a big effort, she scrambled up onto the desk, stumbling a little, but thankfully avoiding a full-on face-plant. Cracking a tooth on the hardwood desk would probably have killed the moment somewhat.

She stood towering over him, looking down at the bulge straining at the front of his trousers. Perhaps she could just fall on that yummy cock, pull it out and plunge it deep into her mouth; that would work for her. She shuffled closer to him, and when her toes were just a few inches from the edge of the desk, she slowly, and very carefully, began to kneel down.

As she sank gradually before him, he stared at her body utterly transfixed, making no attempt to maintain eye contact. Tingles of arousal assaulted her nerve endings as his eyes consumed her. What the hell? Oh my god, she was practically panting, her chest heaving up and down like a bouncy castle. Calm down, deep, slow breaths. She couldn't help notice that he was surreptitiously rubbing his bulge, while staring directly at her breasts, which were threatening to pop the buttons clean off her tight blouse.

"I'm ready," she said in a tiny, barely audible voice.

"Very nice." He coughed. "Er, I mean very good."

For a second they shared a fleeting smile. She opened her mouth just enough to wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, which caused his eyes to widen hungrily. He appeared to struggle for control but then managed to compose himself; reaching down, he brought out a wooden ruler from the desk draw.

"Let's see exactly how short your skirt is Lizzie."

God, she adored the way his voice trickled over her name. It was as if he was using his tongue to tickle each letter, and she desperately wished he would apply the same attention to her throbbing clitoris.

"Yes sir, we shall."

He took the ruler, placing one end on the desk a couple of inches away from her legs. She willed him to move it closer, and after a brief hesitation, he did just that. The wooden instrument slid across the table-top until it made contact with her skin, causing her to practically jump off the desk; Christ, she was strung tighter than a drum. He pushed it flat into the valley created by her closed legs, pushing the folds of her skirt snug up against her. His fingers lightly brushed her knee, igniting a heat that sent pleasure surging through her body.

The ruler was 12 inches long, the uppermost end hovering tantalizingly close to the junction at the top of her thighs. She leant forward and gasped as the tip rubbed across her clothing, pressing lightly against the delicate folds of her labia.

"Everything alright Miss Carhill?"

"Yes sir."

She breathed deeply, trying to pick through the myriad of sensations and emotions being awakened in her. She was torn between never wanting him to stop, and needing him to push her back on the desk and have his way with her. She would offer no resistance, yielding completely to his desires. However, this exchange clearly showed that he was the one in control, not her.

He demonstrated this power by wiggling the ruler a small amount, causing the pressure on the material to skip back and forth across her sex, resulting in the most exquisite feelings to flood through her vagina. Much more of this and she would come right there, having barely been touched at all.

Dean placed a hand on her arm. "Steady there Lizzie, I need to get an accurate measurement."

She was past caring about the length of the skirt; she just wanted him to keep doing what he was doing. The anticipation made her body ache with a need that was almost painful.

"Sorry sir, will it take long? I'm feeling a bit weak at the knees."

"Not too long."

Steadying the ruler with one hand, he slid the other one slowly upwards, counting off as he went.

"One. Two. Three. Oh dear." Each time he counted, his hand rose a fraction further up the ruler, moving ever closer to the top of her thighs.

Beth gasped. "More?" She wasn't even sure if she had meant it as a statement or question; she just wanted him to count higher; for the love of God, count higher.

"Four," he said, his hand brushing the lower most part of her vulva.

She reflexively moved against it to increase the pressure.

"Five, oh this is very short."

His fingers were not really on the ruler now, but instead gently rubbing her through the material of her clothing.

"Six inches, Miss Carhill, This is ridiculously short."

His deep gravelly voice oozed into her ears and shot straight down to her core, where it caused the muscles of her vagina to clench exquisitely. His fingers hovered up and down the length of her slit creating a heat that was drawing her climax ever closer. If he didn't stop soon she would be pushed over the edge and come undone in his arms.