BAD GRADES, GREAT FINDS
“Everyone! Attention for the test. Since this is a surprise test, I’ve decided you’ll get some help from me, especially considering your low grades lately. But don’t expect more than a little assistance. The rest you figure out on your own.”
A voice shouted from the back of the classroom right after the tests were handed out:
“Professor Helena, can you help me with this question?”
She walked over to the kid’s desk with her usual calm. Perfect posture, measured steps, impassive face. As if the entire world revolved around that iron discipline of hers.
I didn’t hate the way she taught. She taught well. Always well-dressed, always put-together, always in control, always calm. The problem was everything else. That coldness of someone who thinks she’s untouchable. That obsession with defending rules like they were sacred commandments. And, most of all, the fucking habit of always getting on my case.
“Adrian, take off that cap.”
“Adrian, your grades are trash.”
“Adrian, you’re talking too loud.”
“Adrian, pay attention.”
“Adrian, phones are forbidden in my class.”
“Adrian, if you fail, I’m not rounding anything up.”
Blah-blah-blah. Adrian this, Adrian that. I was already sick of that bitch.
And still… that outfit. Social skirt way too tight on her ass, dress shirt stretched over her perky tits, buttons about to pop. The other teachers drooled over her. The students jerked off thinking about her too. Me included. Multiple times. And I wasn’t planning on stopping. It’s just that she’d never give any of us the time of day. Certified dyke. Liked pussy more than all the guys in this school combined.
But I wanted to see it. Just once. I wanted to see that golden posture crack. I wanted to watch her crystal floor turn to dust. I wanted to see the desperation on that stuck-up little slut’s face.
She handed out a surprise math test. I hated surprise tests. Regular tests were already shit. Surprise ones were worse. When I looked at the paper, the only thing I managed to write was my name, it was that hard.
“If you have any doubts, call me. I’m here to assist, not to give you the answers.”
Whore. I bet she got off watching us struggle.
“Adrian, I see you looking at your classmate’s test. Cut it out.”
I wasn’t even looking at a single fucking thing.
“Adrian, why are you looking down? If I catch you cheating, I’m voiding your test and calling your parents.”
What the fuck. I was just scratching my stomach. Something had bitten me. That bitch.
She walked around the room like an eagle. Eyes on everything. Detecting every little movement. While other teachers were chill — Edilson from geography, for example, talked more than he taught and gave everyone perfect scores — she was like this. Cold. Rigid. Unbearable. Nose in the air. The perfect little princess. Always perfect at everything, always with every answer on the tip of her tongue, always acting like we were insects under her feet.
Time was running out and I hadn’t done a single fucking thing. I was about to get my ass handed to me by my parents and by Helena too. I swallowed my pride and raised my hand.
“P-Professor Helena…”
“Yes, Adrian?” she said, voice already out of patience.
“I need some help.”
“Typical. You need to pay more attention in class, Adrian.”
The whole class laughed. Of course. My face burned with embarrassment.
She stopped at my desk. That soft citrus perfume hit me first. Then the heat. She leaned in, rested her arms on the wood, and her tits were just centimeters from my face. She left her phone on the desk.
“You haven’t done a single question yet? My God…”
I swallowed the anger.
“How does the Pythagorean theorem go again? I forgot.”
“For the love of God, Adrian, I’ve been teaching this since middle school… What’s the first rule? The sum of the squares of the legs equals the square of the hypotenuse.”
“Sorry… I still don’t get it.”
She sighed with pure contempt, slowly closing her eyes.
“Adrian… a² + b² = c². If A is 5 and B is 3, C is the square root of A² + B². Got it?”
I stayed quiet.
“For the love of God…” She grabbed the pencil from my hand and scribbled.
“The answer is option B, 5.83… Anyone can do this calculation. If you paid attention instead of talking in class, you’d know.”
She still had my pencil when an older voice came from the hallway:
“Helena, come out here for a minute, please.”
“I’ll be right back, Adrian. And no cheating. That goes for everyone!”
She walked away. She ended up leaving her phone on my desk, and better yet — it was unlocked.
The impulse came too fast for me to control, curiosity killing me. I opened the gallery.
At first it was just memes that old people find funny and photos of people I’d never seen, probably friends and family. Then… the photos… the blessed photos.
Her and another woman. Open poses, completely explicit. Her mouth on the other woman’s pussy, saliva dripping, face sweaty. Videos. The other woman shoving a thick dildo up Helena’s ass while she moaned and writhed. All explicit. All filthy. The little saint had a dirty secret hidden away.
A perverse thought flashed through my mind. I moved fast. Grabbed my phone. Transferred everything as quickly as I could. Photos, videos, whatever I had time for. When she came back, the phone was already back in place.
“Alright, where were we again?”
“No need, Helena, I already figured it out. I understood what you explained.”
“Perfect then. Anyone else have a question?”
A girl raised her hand. Helena went over there.
I didn’t write another word on the test. I didn’t need to. I already knew exactly how I was going to guarantee perfect grades from now on.
“Time’s up, class. I’m collecting the tests.”
She collected the tests one by one, going from desk to desk. Some guys turned their necks to watch her ass sway as she walked by. I just held back the smile.
That stuck-up little teacher was in my hands now. And she had no idea.
You’re mine now, you prim little slut.
I was already eager to start.
