I failed the quiz on purpose.
Not enough to tank the whole grade. Just enough that the average dipped and the rule kicked in. I sat in the back row with no vibrator this time, thighs pressed together, still sore and faintly sticky from the load he’d left in me the day before, and watched Alexander mark the papers at his desk. When he called my name at the end of class his voice was flat.
“Office. Now.”
The room emptied. I walked the hall with my pulse between my legs and locked the door behind me like he’d trained me to. He didn’t look up from the quiz.
“Sixty-two. You knew the material. You wrote half answers. Bend over the desk.”
I bent. Skirt up. No panties—I’d stopped wearing them on days I knew I’d earn it. He stood, came around, and dragged two fingers through me. They came away
