Creative Writing Exercise: Please not the same old Prof and Student for Grades

[NotWise]

Finesmith - jeweler type of blacksmith - has a bdsm-fetished apprentice. The apprentice is all stealthy about it at first but as the smith doesn't care what others do behind their doors doesn't judge. The apprentice learns and takes stuff home to 'stress test', learning about finishing all details being important, especially for such 'toys'. The apprentice gets bolder, less subterfuge, and the smith makes suggestions. Screw-clamps vs tweezer nipple clamps, smoothed chains, better removable & washable padding, etc. The smith backs out of invites to 'see it in use', but appreciates the offer - just not their cuppa tea. Cut a year, have someone asking for more aggressive toys - chain flogger? Spurred cuffs? Spiky chastity device? - and gets turned down by the smith. Explains privately to the apprentice that they don't mind pain, but damage should be avoided in their opinion. Etc, continue on discovering limits/options and work around/within limits and the repercussions thereof - someone aggressively misuses a toy and the cops come calling, perhaps? Someone's spouse is upset with hubby/wife's bruises caused by the smith's works, etc.

Now write up a short scene from that story idea (like 300 words or less), and post it here.

 

[yowser]

How could this guy not know that he had an erection while giving his lecture?

It was the only reason my brain was engaged that afternoon in room 420 of Humpstead Hall, another of the airless, stuffy 19th century classrooms whose bland setting matched the theme of the class: Psycho-Ceramic Aspects of Minoan Crete.

As he paced back and forth in front of the class, his member clearly outlined in his well-pressed trousers which I wished were cut just a tad tighter, the old monkey mind had been making its rounds.

“Ms. Angela. What are your thoughts on the basketweave design present on this sample from this dig?” He pointed to his powerpoint slide of a pottery shard while addressing little old me.

I started, aware of his attention suddenly swiveled in my direction (was this accidental?) and found my nipples had grown erect through my summer tank top, despite the heat, and managed an awkward but not completely clueless response.

Relieved when he resumed his talk, I wondered how long it had been since Dr. Phillips had gotten laid. Rumor had it that his former wife, a lecturer over in Women's Studies, had left him two years ago. He wasn't bad looking necessarily, but the barely repressed tumescence viewable while he paced mooted that point. He could be fetched.

This class was my third try on the humanities end of the breadth requirements, I would need to pass this course or delay my degree completion another term, which would not sit well on the parental front.

He'd looked at me intently, too intently, when I spoke, and when he returned to his lecture, I constructed the title to the term paper that I wagered would get me through the gates. Plus the little sticky note with my offer that I'd leave attached to the last page. I licked my lips just thinking of how I'd phrase it all.

But the title would be irresistible.

“Phallocentric Representations and Minoan Meaning: Gratifications in Creative Expression.”