The Headmaster and Miss Jones – Forced sex crime story

Forced sex crime story.

A meeting with her young son’s Headmaster begins a nightmare of blackmail, more about humiliation and non-consensual sex for Mrs Debbie Jones.

Her son is to be ‘permanently excluded’ from the ‘good’ school he attends and the only alternative is the notorious Hesketh Grange, try a rough slum school on a crime-ridden estate. Mr Whittaker the Headmaster is consumed by dark and deeply-rooted sexual needs He is fully prepared to achieve his corrupt ends by ‘any means necessary.’ He holds her son’s fate in his hands. What he wants to know is whether Debbie is prepared to be a ‘good mummy’ to save her son from the bullies, the druggies, and the delinquency of the other school.

But is it enough just to be ‘good’? When does such power go too far? Ask too much? Can even a ‘good’ mummy go bad? And what then? Sometimes even a seemingly cut and dried ‘deal’ can spin out of control

A story which is both powerfully erotic and psychologically insightful, dealing with the abuse of power, forced-sex, sexual sadism, the craving to humiliate and the instinct and satisfactions of revenge.

10906153_xxlAn erotic debut crime novella-with-a-twist from new talent Zoe Thorn.

Strictly adults only. Explicit content. Word count: 18,765


Mrs Jones stared across the desk at the man speaking to her. From the sour expression on his face she didn’t doubt for a single moment that this was serious. Unlike the series of ‘warning’ letters she had received over the past two months, this time it seemed some action was to be taken. This time, she was sure; her son was to be suspended.

‘You see, Mrs Jones, this kind of behaviour is quite simply unacceptable; we just cannot continue this way. I have to think of the standards of the school and the proper education of the other pupils…’

Suspension she knew would be a blow, Adam could be a little headstrong and boisterous but he wasn’t a bad kid. Since his father had left he had blown off a little but nothing that warranted this. She looked across at the man tormenting her and knew he was everything she despised.

In his expensive suit and gold-rimmed glasses, his well-cared for skin and thin, high-pitched voice she knew he had come from money, and coming from money he had education and power as a bonus. He had never had to struggle, never had to worry about putting food on the table, he had never had to hunt bargains or cut corners. And there he was sitting across from her, sitting in judgment and about to tell her that her son was to be suspended from school…there he was about to threaten what little she had…her hopes for her son’s betterment.

She just wished he would get to the point and get it over with. Even if it was a week she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging. She would accept it, keep her dignity and self-respect.

And then he came to the point; suddenly and directly to it. And the words hit her like a fist.

‘Permanently? What do you mean, permanently?’ Permanently? What the….’

‘Well what I say Mrs Jones, we simply cannot tolerate Adam in this school environment anymore. I have taken a decision, which will be ratified by the School Governors to exclude Adam permanently.’


‘There is a perfectly adequate school at Hesketh Grange which will perhaps…..suit his…temperament better.’

Hesketh Grange? Everyone in the area knew what Hesketh was. It was a slum school on a slum estate. It had windows they had stopped repairing they had been broken so often; it had dubious young men always hanging around the school gates, it had a record of bullying and crime that was always in the local newspaper.

Hesketh Grange. Please God no.

Her mouth felt dry. Her heart was beating hard. She wanted to cry, run away. But she knew she couldn’t. She had to say something. ‘Please’, she began. ‘Please no.’

‘He looked at her and smiled the thinnest of smiles, one that didn’t show his teeth. ‘I am sorry Mrs Jones. I have my job to do and leaving your son in this school wouldn’t be doing it. I am sure he will find Hesketh more to his…liking.’

It was a calculated insult and found its mark. ‘But he’s…he’s just not…’

‘Well, I am afraid to say Mrs Jones that he is, he simply does not meet the standard of behaviour that we require, and so, ispo facto he must therefore be transported to a place where his behaviour is more suited to his surroundings.’

It sounded brutal he knew. He meant it to. He enjoyed making it so nasty. He could feel himself hardening at her obvious distress, could feel his cock itching for his touch or…more preferably, hers. Soon he thought. Soon.

‘…so there is nothing more to be said, you will be getting the requisite documents in the post when I have ratified them tomorrow. Thank you for coming Mrs Jones.’ He smiled at her. It was a smile of dismissal.

Go now it said, you don’t belong here. You are nothing.

She walked out feeling like a ghost; invisible.


When she had gone he replayed the scene over in his mind several times. Permanent Exclusion was a potent weapon with such women, the ones who had enough decency to be distressed at the thought of their little bastards having to go to Hesketh Grange. He had used it a number of times before with great success. He knew all the moves; Mrs Jones didn’t stand a chance. He loved this job.

Gloried in it.

The next move was the phone call. But not too soon, let it all boil up inside her, let the desperation build…


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