Not well.

Seven. Oh, heaven help you, there were seven. You came seven times......

Lying on your back, panting desperately up at the bright lights of the Gymnasium, you're having trouble remembering exactly what happened the past few minutes besides that number. Your bare body is entirely exposed to the air, pillowy tits glistening with sweat and heaving slightly with your panting, both flopping on your chest at gravity's call. One leg is bent at the knee, while the other is straight, both out in haphazard directions -- the same can be said for your nubile arms, and curled, twitching fingertips.

Professor Phoebe comes into view, standing above you with a smile. Oh, yea, she's the one that made you like this, isn't she? She did all this to you.....

Phoebe's all dressed up again now, so you've probably been sprawled out like this for a good amount of time. Naked, weak, it's sort of embarrassing to think about, so it's a good thing that thinking's really hard right now. Smiling down at you, she says words that your brain registers several seconds later.

"I'll see you around then, Debbie. It's something for us to work on, for sure."

O-oh.... she's leaving? Hee hee..... but you're still naked here, on your back in a pool of entirely your own cum and sweat. Somebody could come in here next period, and.... oohhhh, hee hee hee. She says a bunch of other stuff too, but you're not really listening at all anymore, since you're too busy being a limp ragdoll and mentally babbling. She did a real number on you, it looks like. You wonder where the rest of your class is right now.....

And it's the last thing that you wonder, as your mind drifts back off into oblivion, far away from the rest of you. What's left of you. Recovery might be a little while, then..... Professor Phoebe sure is a hard person to set off.......