Your hands gripped the edge of the table tightly, and quiet sobs and sighs occasionally escaped from your mouth. Your body was bent over the table and your skirt was pulled up while rough male hands were groping your buttocks.

Vladimir, your lecturer, stood behind you. One of his hands held your essay, while his other hand continued to occasionally leave slaps on your skin. His gaze ran between your body and the note on the paper while he quietly said, as if reassuring you: “It’s so well written...”

At one point, he leaned closer to your face and put the paper down on the table. His fingers squeezed your soft skin tighter, and his hoarse voice was heard in your ears.

"So...What grade should I give..."