You need that grade

Before you can answer, Mr. Peterson cuts you off again. "Now, Miss Murray, I need to make something absolutely clear." He leans forward in his seat. "This special tutoring is not sanctioned by the school. It will be off the books, entirely between you and me."

Your mouth gets dry. "I—"

"And that means that what happens will stay between us. You will not disclose my methods to anyone, and likewise I will keep your participation a secret. We don't want any of the other students to become suspicious of you receiving special treatment."

Special treatment. Those words give a little extra jolt to the buzz of excitement and anxiety you're feeling. "Alright, I—"

"Most importantly, Miss Murray, you will need to agree to abide by my methods of instruction. They can be a bit... **** by today's standards, but I can assure you they are effective. Specifically, as the aim of this tutoring is to improve your discipline, that means that failure to follow the rules or carry out instructions will result in punishment."

You squeeze your legs together and dig your nails into your knees. It suddenly feels hard to breathe. "P-punishment? What k-kind of punishment?" Why is it so hard to get the words out?

"Now, Miss Murray, that will depend on the circumstances of your transgression. I won't go into specifics until and unless you agree to take part in the tutoring, and to be discrete, and to accept any punishment I deem appropriate."

Your heart is pounding in your chest and your breath is short and shallow. "And... my grade?"

Mr. Peterson gives you a small smile, but his eyes are still focused intensely on you, pinning you to your seat. "If you complete the tutoring to my satisfaction, not only can I guarantee you at least a B, but you may find there to be other benefits as well."

Other benefits? You close your eyes and try to clear your head. Doesn't matter, you need that grade. Pull yourself together, RC. You can take whatever this punk can throw at you. You open your eyes and give Mr. Peterson a small nod.

"So you agree to everything I've just said?"

What choice do I have? "...yes."

"Alright, first rule, you will address me as Mr. Peterson at all times. Now let's try that again. Do you agree to be discrete, to follow my instructions to the letter, and accept punishment for transgressions?"

You take a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm yourself. You feel like you're at the peak of the first hill of a roller-coaster. "Yes, Mr. Peterson."

His small smile grows wide, but still hasn't touched his eyes. "Very good, Miss Murray. I'm glad you're taking a step toward self-improvement. Now..." he stands from behind his desk and begins to walk around toward your side. "As I said, I believe I have some idea what is at the root of your behavioral issues. You are sexually active, are you not?"

Your jaw drops. "What?"

He comes around to the front side of his desk and leans back against it. "Remember, you must address me as Mr. Peterson. You will not receive another warning. Now, are you or are you not sexually active?"

Your cheeks are on fire. Why? I don't give a shit if he knows I fuck. "Y-yes... Mr. Peterson. I am... sexually active."

He gives you a small nod. "And are you in a committed monogamous relationship with the person you are sexually active with?"

What the fuck kind of tutoring is this? "I... no, Mr. Peterson. I am not... in a monogamous relationship with the person... people I am sexual with."

Mr. Peterson nods again. "It's as I suspected, then. You see, historically, social constraints restricted women to healthy and productive sexual activity. Our current, postmodern society lacks such constraints, and so the female brain is allowed to be overrun with sexual impulses. The more they are acted upon, the less the female brain is able to cope with such tasks as focusing on work and appropriate behavior."

Your blood is rushing in your ears. "OK, hold the fuck on! What is this patriarchal bullshit about female brains? What do my... sexual impulses have to do with History class?"

Mr. Peterson presses his lips together into a thin line. "Miss Murray, you have again failed to address me as Mr. Peterson."

Oops.

"What's more, you talked back to your teacher, and you used foul language in the classroom." He heaves a heavy sigh. "Now, I was hoping we could get just a little farther into the lesson before your first transgression, but I'm afraid we will need to apply some punishment to address this appalling behavior."

Your heart drops, and your breath quickens. "M-Mr. Peterson, I'm sorry, I—"

He ignores you. "It's important that you are an active participant in your education, Miss Murray. So, I am going to give you a choice. You can either receive a short, intense punishment, and we can move on..." He straightens up and takes a few steps towards you. "Or, if that is too much for you right now, we can try something a little less intense, but that will stay with you for the remainder of the lesson."

He's standing right in front of you now, forcing you to look up at him to meet his gaze. You shrink into your seat.