**Chapter 3: After Hours Lesson**

The week after that second session felt like living in a fever dream.

Every lecture with Professor Hawthorne became pure torture. I sat in the front row like always, but now I knew what his cock felt like stretching me open. I knew how his voice sounded when he was buried deep inside me. I knew the exact weight of his hand when he spanked me. And he knew it too. His gaze would linger on me longer than necessary, a secret smirk playing at the corner of his mouth whenever he said words like “discipline,” “submission,” or “thorough examination.”

By the time Thursday arrived,...