Thread: [Fictional Stories - ENF] Will’s Mom Comes Undone
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Old 08-10-2017, 10:14 PM
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Default Overexposed -- Part 1

“She’s on the line again Principal Bradley,” came the anxious voice from Sheila Bradley’s intercom, “what do you want me to tell her this time?”

She’s never going to stop calling, the newly appointed principal of Davidson Central Middle School thought to herself as she prepared to respond to her new secretary, Ms. Linda Bertrand. Lori Whiting – Sheila’s predecessor as the school’s top administrator -- had warned her about this woman but Sheila Rudolph Bradley had never imagined it would be this bad.

“She sounds more upset than usual,” Ms. Bertrand’s voice continued, this time with more than a hint of trepidation in it, “and I should know.”

Before joining the staff of Central’s “Office of the Principal,” Linda Bertrand had been the executive assistant to the now agitated caller – a woman who she feared even more than she despised. It was Ms. Bertrand’s unceremonious firing by the woman now on hold -- for “not presenting herself in a professional manner” -- that had resulted in her having to take the much lower paying but mercifully more humane position in the public school system.

“Put her through,” answered a resigned Principal Bradley, “I can only imagine what she’s on the warpath about now.”

The “she” is question was Danielle Marie Parnell, the soon-to-be 46 year-old mother of two students presently at the school, Anna and Maria. Fourteen year-old Anna was nearing the end of her tenure at Central and about to head off to a very fancy private high school north of Baltimore. Twelve year-old Maria was just about to finish her first year at the affluent suburb’s middle school but, sadly for Sheila Bradley, she and her mother would be around for at least two more years.

Rumor had it that Lori Whiting had taken early retirement in no small part to avoid the officious Mrs. Parnell who, like many an early 21st century Tiger Mother, was the first to call the school with a complaint, loudest to criticize any teacher or administrator who challenged the imperious diva’s assessment of her perfect children and least hesitant to take any perceived affront to those children “to the highest level.”

* * *

“What is this cow waiting for,” Danielle Parnell stewed to herself as she waited to be put through to Central Middle School’s new principal, “does this woman have no idea who I am.”

The gorgeous mother of three – whose oldest child Will was soon to be a junior at the prestigious Gonzaga High School in Washington, D.C. -- was making the call form the opulent bathroom of her South River facing manse while preparing for another day as the managing partner of SmythKnight, one of the world’s largest and most influential law firms that was based squarely at the foot of Capitol Hill.

As she waited impatiently, the imperious uber-MILF looked almost lustfully at the vision she loved the most – her own reflection in the mirror staring back at her. With a body better than most women half her age -- kept perfectly toned by her ruthless dedication to fitness – and a face that she often described (accurately but without a hint of modesty) as the perfect combination of Miranda Kerr and Kerri Russel, Danielle Marie Parnell was truly a vision.

At the office she wore only the finest of fashions be they body hugging power suits or the snuggest of suede slacks. Her outfits were always “appropriate” – one of her favorite words – but never failed to accentuate her magnificently aerobicized ass or her pert, ample bosom. There was no room into which she’d walk where every male head would not turn. She was, in her view, and that of most any man, physical perfection personified.

The problem was she knew it and, more troubling to those around her, she loved to lord it over the likes of the pathetic Linda Bertrand and that newly installed puppet Sheila Bradley. It was bad enough that Danielle had to tolerate Sheila’s portly daughter Jessica as a “partner” in her law firm. That she was now on hold awaiting that stuffed sausage’s mother was infuriating her. She laughed inwardly as she thought of all the times she left Jessica Bradley and the other useless women at her firm and elsewhere humiliated as their husbands, sons and boyfriends abandoned any thought of them in Mrs. Parnell’s splendiferous presence. She couldn’t figure out in her brilliant mind which of them was more pathetic, the unworthy men who wanted to see her or their pedestrian mates who all wanted to be her – and she couldn’t care less – they’re all such peasants.

* * *

At last the voice of Principal Bradley came on the line snapping Danielle from her reverie and instantly releasing upon the unsuspecting administrator Mrs. Parnell’s latest tirade.

“How I can I help you today Mrs. Parnell,” Mrs. Bradley asked with the patience she had learned over thirty plus years dealing with parents.

“Well you could start by not keeping me waiting for ten minutes,” Danielle snipped, “but seeing as how that ship has sailed perhaps you can explain to me why my daughter Anna was texted a most inappropriate image by – and of – one of the horny little perverts of whom you’re in charge. I thought you had this disgusting behavior under control.”

“Now Mrs. Parnell . . .,” Sheila Bradley interjected.

“Don’t you ‘now Mrs. Parnell’ me you weak-willed excuse for a gate keeper. If I didn’t need to keep Maria at this school for another two years I would wash my hands of this nonsense but seeing as how she seems to insist on being with her friends for until high school I guess I have no choice.”

“Danielle, please,” the pained principal tried again.

“It’s Mrs. Parnell to you Bradley,” Danielle interrupted, “and because you’re clearly doing nothing on your own to stop this nonsense you’re at the very least going to arrange a parents’ meeting so those of us who want to protect our children from these adolescent exhibitionists and voyeurs can discuss how to address the problem.”

“Mrs. Parnell,” Sheila Bradley calmly continued, “I realize that you’re upset but as you just suggested problems like this really begin with parents and are not all that easy for the school to control.”

It was the break that Danielle had been waiting for and for which she had all along been planning to close the trap on the elder Mrs. Bradley.

“How right you are, Sheila,” Danielle practically purred into the phone, “this problem does begin with parents and their general lack of discipline in respect of their entitled little children. Why am I not surprised then that the first instance of these – nary I mention them – dick pics -- involved your grandson sending them to some poor unsuspecting girl less than five years ago. Perhaps if your overstuffed daughter had put him over her knee, or you her, this all could have been avoided.”

Embarrassed by her grandson’s horrible judgement along with that of his mother, Sheila Bradley blanched.

“I don’t think corporal punishment is the answer Mrs. Parnell,” Sheila weekly defended herself.

“Of course you don’t, Sheila,” Danielle mocked, “what kind of card carrying union member liberal would ever support such a thing. Well from where I sit there is nothing that the little pig deserves more than a good spanking – other than perhaps a night in jail.”

Knowing there was naught left to say in her defense, and wanting this call desperately to be over, Sheila Harris willingly gave Mrs. Parnell the benefit of the bargain the alpha-lawyer was seeking.

“I’ll arrange a meeting for parents and students alike later this week Mrs. Parnell where, as you say, you’ll have a chance to take things into your own hands. Is there anything specific I should say you’ll be addressing.”

“Phone etiquette is what I’ll be discussing, Sheila,” Danielle arrogantly proclaimed, “the appropriate use of photos on social media to be exact. I’ll bring my daughter’s phone as an example. I assure you it contains none of the prepubescent nonsense that most of these little beasts are carrying around. All I need from you is a wireless projector so that I can share with these little miscreants and their hillbilly parents an example of the propriety that has clearly gone missing in today’s society.”
* * *

“Why are doing this to me mother . . . why,” Anna Parnell asked in vain, “you’re going to humiliate me in front of all my friends.”

“You quiet down this instant young lady,” came the stern rebuke from Danielle as she drove with her daughter to the parent-teacher meeting she had brow beaten Sheila Harris into calling, “the only people who will be humiliated are those perverted little animals in your class and their irresponsible parents. To think I’m forced to waste my time to show them how to exhibit proper social media etiquette is disgraceful – as are they!”

“But mom,” pleaded Anna, “why do we have to use my iPhone as an example?”

“Because Anna – thanks to good parenting – it’s a perfect example of how to use social media to profile one’s interests and hobbies in a productive manner,” her mother haughtily responded, “now that’s quite enough out of you.”

Anna Parnell was mortified. It was bad enough that her martinet of a mother insisted that they each have the same phone – a rose gold iPhone 7 Plus – but that Danielle also insisted that her finger print be able to access Anna’s phone made the 14-year old feel like a little kid. The reason Anna’s phone had nothing but pictures of horses from her riding lessons and school band rehearsals was that her mother’s limitless access made it very perilous to post anything else. That fact, combined with Danielle’s constant policing of her daughter’s texts and e-mails and the requirement that she be able to follow her children on any social media platform, had already caused Anna endless teasing by her friends. Having to demonstrate just how sterile her online life was in front of them today was going to really subject the young teen to some – thankfully good-natured – ribbing.

“Let’s go,” barked Danielle as she eased her brand new Mercedes convertible into a spot marked “Reserved: PTA President.”

“We can’t park here mom,” objected Anna, “Mrs. Miras is the PTA President and I know she’ll be at this meeting.”

“Well then that little Hobbit will just have to find another spot now won’t she. I don’t have time to waste driving around some junior high school parking lot just to end up where any workaday teacher or, worse yet, some half-witted cow like Linda Bertrand, can put a ding in my one-hundred-twenty-five-thousand dollar Mercedes.”

Knowing it wasn’t worth the fight, Anna Parnell stepped out from the passenger side of the car while her mother exited from the driver’s side. And what an exit it was. As Danielle stepped from her car the neck of every man and boy within view immediately snapped to take in the scene.

Always one to make an impression, Mrs. Parnell on this day was wearing on her perfectly formed feet a pair of black leather 5” Christian Louboutin Alti Spike pumps. From her bare sculpted ankles upward the preening uber-MILF had outfitted herself in a pair of skin-tight black leather Lanvin leggings. The obscenely expensive $2700 pants profiled peerlessly the perfection that was her undeniably fabulous ass, carved as if from marble.

Up top she sported a short-sleeve black and white checkered Alexander McQueen wrap top. The fashionable silk garment hugged her pert and ample bosom giving her onlookers a tantalizing view of the top of that canyon of cleavage that disappeared beneath the luxurious fabric. The veritable crop top was tied together – its only fastener – immediately above her left hip, permitting any interested viewer, and there were many, a flash of her toned, tanned midsection every time she took a step. Around her supple neck hung a diamond encrusted “D” which acknowledged her to others as Danielle but to her private delight as the Dominatrix. She smiled just thinking about it.

Her thick hair today was flat-ironed straight in order to convey to the cavalcade of nobodies she was about to address the gravity of her concerns. Mrs. Parnell’s gorgeous face was made up exquisitely but in neutral tones broken only by the dark red lipstick that framed her perfectly white teeth. Her emerald eyes were at this point hidden behind her favorite Porsche mirrored aviator shades.

“Keep up,” the suburban sexpot barked at her young daughter as she strutted through the front door of the school, “you’d think you were embarrassed to be seen with me.”

Although that is in fact exactly what young Anna was thinking, what happened next proved the point definitively.

“Well look who we have here Anna,” her mother said mockingly as the now eighteen year old Timothy Bradley – the subject of the original Davidson dick pic scandal some five years before – rounded the hallway corner, “it’s the little pervert who started this disgraceful trend but now he’s all grown up.”

Stunned by the beauty of the woman before him as well as by her stinging rebuke, Tim Bradley stood shocked and slack-jawed looking like a proverbial deer in the headlights.

“Nothing to say have we Mr. Bradley,” Danielle played her advantage loving the humiliation she was heaping on the now admittedly fit and handsome young man.

“It seems you have as little to say today as you once did to show,” she mocked, while Tim and Anna both turned three shades of red, “perhaps if you were more like my son Will and less of a deviant you would have learned your lesson sooner – but I guess you now know that. Well, excuse us Little Timmy, while we go teach a similar lesson to your overstuffed mother and ineffectual grandma.”

Drunk with the delight of emasculating the now humiliated Bradley boy, and especially pleased that his dressing down by her had been witnessed by the growing crowd of students and parents heading to the meeting, Danielle made her way down the hall with a little more sway in her perennially sexy hips. More than one woman – be it mother or student – was forced meekly to watch as her husband or boyfriend was transfixed by wanton lust staring at the diva of Davidson. And Danielle loved it – the losers.
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