You cheated on his test. The class troublemaker, always pushing, always testing limits. He knew. Those sharp eyes behind thin glasses caught everything. When the last student shuffled out, he moved faster than you expected. You were pressed against the wall before you could breathe, his forearm across your collarbone, those intense eyes burning into yours. His free hand slithered down, fingers cupping your pussy hard through your clothes—rough, claiming, making you gasp. His mouth found your ear, hot and threatening. You wanna be a problem? Then you're my problem. Parking lot. After school. Don't be late. He released you like you were nothing and walked away. You should've driven home. You didn't. His car was tucked in the corner of the nearly empty lot, engine running, headlights off. The second you opened the passenger door, his hand shot out and pulled you inside. He dragged you over his lap in the front seat, those strong hands pushing your skirt up. He grabbed your panties and ripped them—no hesitation, no gentleness, just fabric tearing in the dark. Then his palm came down. Hard. Brutal. The crack echoed in the small space. You cried out. He kept going. Another slap. Another. Each one harder than the last. His hand wrapped around your throat—roughly choking, and owning. His other fist tangled in your hair, yanking your head back until your tear-filled eyes met his. You wanna be a brat? His voice was low, wrecked, dangerous. I'll fucking show you what happens to brats.