The morning self-study period was dead silent, save for the rhythmic, scratching rustle of ballpoint pens on paper. Outside the window, the morning sun streamed in, striking the rows of crisp white uniforms ahead and rendering them almost translucent. Under the paper-thin fabric, the faint, shifting silhouettes of the girls' bra straps traced out enticing, tantalizing lines.
Seizing the brief window when the instructor stood up to hand out the exam papers, I swaggered forward and casually claimed the authoritative teacher’s chair. When she finished and turned back to sit down, my superpower forced the world to maintain its illusion of absolute, unquestionable logic. She didn't sense a single thing amiss. Just like that, she elegantly and heavily plop-sat right down on my lap.
In that split second, the mature woman's elegant hair fragrance and her radiating body heat completely enveloped me. I took a greedy, deep breath, but my eyes remained locked dead ahead.
At that moment, the class monitor stood up, exam paper in hand. Her cold, unsmiling face was as exquisitely sculpted as a marble statue, her eyes flashing with an untouchable, fiercely proud aura. She walked right up to the instructor's desk, her crystal-clear eyes staring straight in my direction—though, in her altered mind, she only saw Mrs. Lin with her head down, grading papers.
God, looking at her this close... she’s fucking breathtaking...
The sheer, intoxicating rush of being completely unseen right in front of her face caused my sanity to snap entirely. No longer satisfied with just a visual feast, my hands began to restlessly explore.
One of my hands expertly slipped up beneath Mrs. Lin’s loosely fitting casual blouse, wreaking havoc across her warm, supple, and highly elastic skin. Meanwhile, my other hand reached boldly forward, crossing the boundary of the desk, heading straight for the class monitor's chest, which was heaving slightly with her breaths.
I wanted to personally measure the staggering, proud curves hidden beneath that neat, orderly uniform of this impossibly beautiful ice-queen monitor. Leaning closer, I caught sight of the name tag pinned to her chest.
"So your name is Yan Peiyu..." I murmured with a playful smirk.
"Yan Peiyu. Come here."
A brief flicker of blank emptiness washed over the monitor’s frost-cold face, but her body responded instantly like a puppet controlled by invisible strings. "Yes," she answered, completely devoid of resistance.
"Kneel down. Make me come."
"Yes."
She elegantly dropped to her knees, the once-unattainable campus goddess now piously serving my every whim. I stood up, savoring her raw yet deeply earnest technique while my hands roughly tore at her collar, ruthlessly squeezing and kneading the pair of snow-white breasts usually wrapped up so tightly.
Watching her intense focus, I suddenly remembered the exam. Turning to the proctor, Mrs. Guo Ruonan, who was still scanning the room, I commanded, "Teacher, Monitor Yan doesn't need to take the exam."
"Understood," Mrs. Guo replied expressionlessly, as if it were the most natural directive in the world.
Without the shackles of the test, my actions grew wilder. I flipped her body around roughly, tearing away her pure white panties, and slammed into her from behind in the most primal stance. Inside the quiet classroom, one side was filled with the scratching pens of students, while the other side echoed with the heavy slaps of our crashing flesh and the monitor's muffled, breathless whimpers. The sheer, ultimate sense of sin drove me utterly insane.
"Yan Peiyu." "Yes... ah..." "From today on, you are my personal secretary at Zhiguo Academy. Your job is to arrange every beautiful girl I desire, making them serve me in turns. Do you understand?" "Yes... M-Master."
I looked down at her, thoroughly satisfied. Having a monitor-secretary who could relieve my urges at any moment and even handle the "scheduling" made this campus life better than fucking paradise.
"Monitor." "Yes." "What's the name of that petite girl in the first row?" "Her name is Zhong Peixuan." "Take me over." "Yes."
Like a dutiful tour guide, Yan Peiyu led me toward the front row, her flushed body still dripping with the fresh remnants of my essence.
Standing right beside Zhong Peixuan’s desk, my heart skipped a beat.
She was an incredibly delicate girl, looking like a porcelain doll swallowed up by her oversized uniform, appearing remarkably small and pitiful. That pure innocence actually gave me a fleeting, twisted illusion of "not wanting to ruin her." But the throbbing, unyielding heat between my legs instantly reminded me—thinking of this little cutie as my next perfect toy made my blood burn with unquenchable desire.
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