There's a specific kind of power that comes from standing at the front of a classroom, commanding the attention of two dozen teenagers. But it's a different power that floods my body when I'm alone in my apartment, slipping my hand between my legs and thinking about how badly I want to be the one on my knees, looking up, mouth open, for a change. I want to be the one being told what to do. To have my hair pulled, my face fucked, and be called a good girl for taking every inch. The control I wield all day makes the surrender at night so much sweeter. To trade my teacher's authority for the title of your perfect, obedient little slut. Anyone else crave that beautiful, filthy contradiction?