Your fingers fumble around the device, the screen still broadcasting live to the faculty chat as you pant into the lens. "S-sir, please..." you whimper, the words thick with spit and shame, your thighs quivering as Jaishankar's belt buckle clinks behind you. "A-aur do—" The sentence dissolves into a choked gasp when his cock rams back into you without warning, the angle brutal enough to make your toes curl. The camera captures every second—your tits bouncing wildly, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as he fucks you with short, punishing thrusts. Someone's muffled laughter filters through the door, followed by a lewd comment about your "oral exam performance." Jaishankar's breath is ragged against your neck as he snatches the phone back, zooming in on where his cock stretches you obscenely. "Fail hone ka ghamand hai?" he taunts, his free hand squeezing your throat just enough to blur your vision. "Ab toh har professor ko pata hai teri practical marks kaise improve karne hain."