"Help! Help me! Somebody, please!" Carla cried, turning her head and calling out until her throat hurt.

No one. He had timed this perfectly, ensuring the administration building was empty before approaching her. He took one step, holding a hand out to her.

Again, Carla shrank away, holding both hands to her tits while pressing her full, firm ass against the wall. She could hear the steady ticking of the wooden-framed clock above her as if it were telling her to run. Her flesh crawled as she again stared at the door behind the tally dark-haired chief administrator. He was pulling off his tie now, opening his shirt, revealing the hairs on his chest while still approaching her. That look in his eyes – those black pools of utter depravity! Never before had Carla felt as trapped, as helpless as she did flaw.

"You're wasting your breath and my time," Mike said, shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt.

"No, oh no," she whimpered, her voice seeming to shrink inside her.

"There. Now, that's better," Mike said, smiling at her. "A mother should always find out about the school her daughter's going to attend. And the best way to do that," he said, his smile fading somewhat, "is to experience the same lessons…"

"Lessons?"

"Just that. You'll learn the obedience you want your daughter to study. And you'll do it right, or we'll try again."

"No!"

Mike threw himself on top of her, his feet kicking her ankles apart while his hands ripped at her blue cotton print dress. Carla was frantic, her mind going blank as she felt his fingers tearing at the material. His lips were on her throat, sucking hard, his teeth nearly breaking her, skin. There were times when he gathered strands of her hair in the fist of one hand, jerking her head back, the pain forcing her jaws to part.