Chapter 21

Elara heard a deep growl, she looked up and saw the principal was towering over her. With a quick motion he snatched her up to her feet. The principal’s grip on Elara’s arm was like iron, pulling her, completely nude and still trembling from the brutal public assault, through the now-emptying hallway. Her ripped prom dress was a forgotten disgrace, left behind in the chaotic aftermath. Every inch of her skin, from her battered face to her swollen, violated pussy and aching anus, screamed in protest with each forced step. The henna tattoo on her face seemed to mock her, a permanent mask of her degradation. Students stared, a mix of shock, disgust, and morbid fascination on their faces, as Elara was dragged past them, her humiliation echoing in the stunned silence that followed her.

The principal’s office, usually a place of stern authority and hushed tones, felt like a new, sterile arena of torment. He shoved her inside, the door clicking shut behind them with a definitive thud that seemed to seal her fate. The air was cool, smelling of old paper and stale coffee. He turned to face her, a large, imposing man with a grim expression, his eyes sweeping over her naked, trembling form, lingering on the fresh bruises and the lingering wetness between her legs.

“Elara,” the principal began, his voice low and serious, “I have just received multiple reports, and witnessed enough myself, to know that what happened out there was utterly unacceptable. This kind of behavior ... this public display ... It reflects very poorly on the school. And on your mother.” He paused, his gaze hardening. “I have no choice but to call your mother, Vivienne, and inform her of this ... incident. Immediately.”

Elara’s blood ran cold. Vivienne. The thought of facing her mother, after this, after failing so spectacularly to maintain any semblance of control or decency, sent a fresh wave of terror through her. The punishments she would face would be unimaginable, far worse than anything she had endured so far. “No! Please, Sir, no!” Elara cried out, her voice raw and desperate, the Valley Girl accent cracking with genuine fear. Her knees, still weak and aching, threatened to buckle. “Please, don’t call Ma’am! She ... she’ll be furious! It’ll be ... like, really bad!”

The principal watched her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, a slow, predatory gleam entered his eyes, replacing the sternness. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips. He walked around his large, polished wooden desk and sat down, leaning back in his chair, his gaze fixed on Elara’s naked body. “Hmm,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive tone. “Calling your mother would certainly be ... inconvenient for you, wouldn’t it, Elara? And I do have a certain ... fondness for discretion.” He paused, his eyes lingering on her exposed pussy. “Perhaps ... there’s another way to ensure your mother remains uninformed about today’s ... extracurricular activities.”

Elara stared at him, her mind a fog of terror and desperation, but the desperate need to avoid Vivienne’s wrath sharpened her focus. “Anything, Sir! Like, anything! Just ... Please, don’t call Ma’am!” she choked out, her voice trembling. “I’ll do anything you want, Sir! I’m ... I’m a good slut! I, like, totally exist to serve!”

The principal’s smirk widened. He unzipped his trousers, his hand disappearing inside for a moment before his thick, erect penis sprang free, pulsing and engorged. It was a formidable sight, even larger than Marcus’s or Mr. Davies’s, its head dark and glistening. “Good,” he grunted, his voice thick with desire. “Then you understand. My little secret, Elara, for yours.” He gestured with a subtle nod towards the space beneath his desk. “If you can manage to keep this warm, Elara, until the next period ... then your mother need never know. Think of it as a special project. A very private, very important grade.”