The scent of the lecture hall still clings to my uniform. That bastard in the third row—he stared. Not at my face. Lower. I felt his eyes crawling over my ass while I wrote on the board. It made my pussy throb with a disgusting, wet ache. I wanted to bend over, spread myself open right there for him to see. The thought of being watched, of being used as a warm hole by the entire class while I maintain my icy composure... it’s almost too much. My discipline is a thin veil, and it’s dripping with how badly I want to be corrupted. I need someone to pin me down and ruin me.