"Time is up."
Shyla exhaled. It felt like a breath she'd been holding for the entire hour. Half. At best, she thought.
"Pencils down, please hand in your exams."
This was not going well. She knew she was having trouble with the class, and she'd tried just about everything she could think of to do better. She'd tried the myriad items of advice her friends had offered too.
Her hand shook as she delivered the exam into the professor's hands. They made eye contact. She broke the eye contact, feeling ashamed to look at him. Why? It's just an exam, she told herself, it doesn't make me any less of a person. She forced herself to resume the eye contact. The professor smiled slightly, trying to offer some compassion. It didn't matter how he looked at her, her problem was on the paper, not in the eye contact. She broke away again, and walked out.
Chapter 2
Shyla was a blond girl, 20 years old, and a college sophomore. She was a little tall for a girl, at about 5' 8", and slim. Her family had paid for her to come to the college, not a particularly wealthy family but hard working. She was the eldest of her 3 siblings, and felt a particular obligation to succeed in school to set a good example for them to follow as they entered into their adult lives. She had confessed her academic difficulties to her next eldest sibling, Jacob, who was trying to offer her advice on the phone.
Shyla sat at her desk, listening patiently.
"Yeah, Jacob."
"Yeah."
"I know... I've already tried that."
"Yeah, I will give that a try."
They said a few more pleasantries and then her call was done.
Shyla looked down at her desk. A few scrawled notes and numbers conveyed her situation well. She'd analyzed her predicament. She was doing poorly in 2 classes, and one, College Algebra, was looking like failure. She needed to solve the problem. The previous semester she had passed all her courses, but barely. She needed a certain GPA to maintain her scholarship, to remain in school. She was doing well in her remaining 2 classes, but failing any one class would do her in.
She'd been open about her situation, at least after the initial shell shock from the first few signs of trouble. Her friends had offered her advice, good advice. She'd tried it all. Jacob's latest advice didn't seem much different. In fact, she'd already tried his suggestion. She was at the point where she was trying conflicting advice, attempting one thing before a different friend would convince her of something else.
Her parents were not yet aware of her predicament, only Jacob and almost all of her friends. She couldn't afford to fail out of school. It was much, much too important to her family, her friends, and to herself. She would not accept failure, and was not going to quit looking for the solution, but she was running on empty.
For a time, the fear of her situation worsening had driven her to study harder, to dig in. But, she quickly moved past that point, such that the fear of her failing precluded her focus, her ability to study. Then, her latest exam... The fear had prevented her from even demonstrating the knowledge shehadlearned.
She lowered her face to her table, and began to cry again.
Chapter 3
Edan was a relatively large man of 25 years age. He had generally dark features, including black hair. He worked a 9-5 job as a surveyor, spending part of his days outside, the rest in an office working on drawings, calculations, or sometimes idle.
Edan sat at the bar with his friend, Mark, who was an architect that he often interacted with in his job.
"You need to get laid." His friend remarked.
"Yeah, I know." He replied, unimpressed with the obvious contribution to his current state.
"Why don't you just pick up a girl already? Or if you're waiting for a good one, get to dating man!"
"Why is it that being single is such a bad thing?"
"Because it sucks?"
He looked over at his friend in an effort to convey his disgust along with his statement. "It sucks by itself, so why does everyone want to make it worse with comments like yours?"
"Uh. Sorry man." Mark wasn't being real deep tonight. Or responsive.
"What if I just wanted to be single for a while? Is that so bad?"
"Well, it hurts your credibility, you know. Girls start to wonder why you are single. You start to doubt yourself. Most people want to un-single themselves just to keep up appearances, and then they work on improving the situation after they've got that much."
Finally, Mark was beginning to have some thoughts. Mark wasn't a bad guy, and he was good for explaining his viewpoints, but Edan disagreed with him a lot. "Hmm.. Doesn't make much sense to me. You are just constraining yourself into a relationship that you don't care about. Finding a girl you like is hard enough without extra limitations. Plus, it's using the other person."
"Well, it's pretty easy to find a girl that doesn't mind getting used. As long as she gets a few things she wants out of it, most of them don't care."
"Well, I don't represent women as a whole, or an individual one, so I'm not going to agree or disagree with that stereotype. Good to know you have no problem making decisions for the opposite sex though."
"It's not a decision, just.. an observation."
"If it affects your judgments, and it's an 'observation' that you've made yourself, isn't it basically a decision?"
"Hmm... Yeah well alright. But it's an observation I have observed several times so I'm sticking with it."
They sat quiet for a minute. They both had another sip of their beers in the relatively quiet establishment.
"Did you even come up with that yourself, or was that someone else's observation first?"
"I came up with it!"
Sure, Edan thought. "Cattle mentality."
"What?"
"You think like the herd."
Mark was annoyed with his friend, but not really angry. "Screw you buddy." He sipped some more beer.
"You know what I don't understand?"
"What's that?"
"People who do something dramatic with their appearances because they want to 'express themselves'. But then they pick from the same kinds of appearance alterations as everyone around them. They're doing nothing unique, the only thing they are expressing is that they want to fit in. And to top it off, some of the things they use to "express themselves" are dramatic. Like those giant ear piercing things that's the fad right now."
"Yeah, that's absurd stuff right there. I don't understand it either; they all just end up looking or acting the same, nothing unique or original about them."
"And tattoos. Same thing. I hate tattoos."
"Hey, I got a tattoo, and I didn't do it just to repeat everyone else."
Edan responded in a sincere tone, the sarcasm limited to just the words, "That's true. You tend to do things with consideration -- you did it to fit in with your friends."
"Exact—hey, no I didn't!"
Mark looked over at him, getting annoyed with his friend's damper mood and ragging on him. He considered the rough week he knew his friend had been through, but his annoyance was rising. "What about you? You're a bit of a hypocrite, aren't you? It's not like you don't do things that fall into the 'cattle mentality'."
"True. I do some things to keep up with everyone else. But you know, and even though I'm gett'n after you, I think you are pretty good about this too, I try to consider what the herd wants me to do and decide for myself."
"Well, I think we all go through that process. It's how willing you are to part with the herd on each decision that I think makes the difference."
"You know, even people who aresupposedto part with the herd don't do it very often. Take our job for example, we're all supposed to be looking for ways to make things fit, or to accomplish more, make the space that we're giving do more. We're supposed to be original, supposed to come up with ways to do things differently, but we have our very own typical pecking order, all the usual tendencies to keep up with the guy next to us out of some silly fear."
"Yeah, I think you're right, it's all about fear. A lot of our fears are small, we don't really identify them as such. And we'd feel overwhelmed if we tried to confront every little thing, so we just let a lot of things slide and go with the flow rather than contemplate every little thing."
Edan sat quietly pondering for a bit. "Yeah, I follow the crowd a bit too. But --" he gestured his beer towards his friend's arm where he knew the tattoo was covered, and let a little smirk show. "-- at least I'm not branded."
"Hey hey. It's not a branding."
"What is that thing you got on your arm, anyway?"
"First of all, it's on my side, not my arm. It's tucked away, so I can cover it if I want. And, for your information, I picked exactly what I liked. I put a lot of thought into it. It's a butterfly."
Edan finally broke from his beer to peer over at Mark. "A butterfly?"
"Yes, a butterfly thank you. How'sthatfor parting from the herd?"
"You parted with the herd just to go join the cowgirls."
"Hey hey, now the ladies love this tattoo. A real man would be impressed with my uniqueness."
Edan laughed and lifted his beer in acknowledgement of his buddy's manliness.
Chapter 4
"I don't know what to do."
Edan sipped at his cappuccino, and looked away. "Sorry Shyla, sounds like your friends have already offered plenty of advice and it isn't helping."
"I'm getting desperate."
Edan sat silently a moment, thoughtful. "Desperate not to become stigma." He said softly, speaking away from her.
Shyla wasn't listening very carefully, she was too emotional. And she wasn't sure that she'd heard him right, "Excuse me? I don't know what you mean, stigma?"
"Stigma. Something that people commonly fear or avoid doing, thinking, saying, etc."
"I don't follow. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Oh, sorry. I've just been in a bitter mood the last couple days. Just my strange views, nevermind."
She paused a moment. Did she want to know? Might as well. "No, please, I'd like to hear your views."
"You're not afraid of being unable to perform the algebra, as is the goal of the class. You're afraid of receiving a mark of failure which sets you apart from everybody else. Like a mark of stigma upon you."
She wasn't sure she liked where he was going with this. Was he comparing her to some dumb girl that just wanted to follow the pack? That she cared nothing about the class, only the grade? She felt insulted. But, she was not the type to say anything. She'd just note how rude he was and rememb—
"Not all problems are solved the same way for different people. Some problems require a very unique approach, which requires overcoming stigma."
He was pushing it. If he was going to persist, she was going to speak up. "I know that. Are you saying that I just do what everyone does and can't think for myself?"
"No, no I.. Sorry. I just meant.. Well, I mean all your friend's advice isn't working, and all their advice is what works for them, and is sort of just the typical selection of solutions to the problem you're having. 'Gotta study more', as if that isn't obvious, or, 'take practice exams', and 'don't go out on weekends'. Advice like that. I didn't mean it as an insult, really."
Well, he was quite apologetic, but he obviously still thought her incapable of thinking for herself. He feels bad for saying it, and he sort of explained what he meant, but he still thought it. Oh well, even this cute boy thought her an idiot. When she failed her class, everyone would know it was true.
She tapped her cup. She considered getting up and heading back to the study hall. She looked at him. He was still looking away, avoiding eye contact. He never did that. It was strange. Well, she thought, he probably just feels bad for insulting me.
She was already incensed. She had hoped to win this boy's attention, but if this is what he thought of her, what the hell. Might as well rip the wound all the way open. "So, you think I'm too uncreative to solve this problem then? Great, bad at math and uncreative..."
"No, that's not what I meant!" He made eye contact finally, and that confused her. There was no look of arrogance, no contempt in his eyes. She wondered if maybe she was reading him wrong after all. No, she didn't think so, he just feels guilty for having his meaning caught more directly than he'd expected. "Ok, an example. Take Robin Hood."
"Robin Hood?" She almost raised an eyebrow. How the hell did they get to Robin Hood?
"Yeah. He was a thief. Bigtime thief. There's this stigma that stealing is bad. People didn't want to steal because there was a stigma against it, and when they did steal, they felt so bad about it that they kept it secret. But in the situation he was in, at least according to the stories, he did it proudly and shared his violation with lots of people. We think of the story from the back to the front, knowing he's the hero right away, but if you think about it from his perspective, it took a while of doing that before he went from being treated like the scum of the earth, a common, selfish, thief, to becoming a hero. He had to go against stigma, endure it, and come out ahead on the other end."
"So... I'm too cowardly to go against the grain, andthat'swhy I'm failing College Algebra?" She was already moving to grab her purse, she had had enough of this. She wasn't expecting multiple forms of scorn from her friend, this attractive guy, over failing one exam. She'd come to him to get his perspective, and just because she liked talking to him, but this was done.
"No, no that's not what I mean! Alright let me get a better example." She was barely listening as she rose, and he could see that she was offended. He had to explain himself in a hurry or he risked her forever remaining offended. It was time to make a stronger point, so he was going to have to put himself out there a bit. "Bondage."
The word caught her ear. She looked at him. "Bondage?" Really, she thought? If this guy digs his hole any deeper, she was going to up the score from walking out on their coffee meeting to slapping him.
"Bondage. You know, BDSM types of things. See, got your attention didn't it?"
She sighed. Ah, so he's trying to hold her attention. Something dramatic to get back in the game, she concluded.
"It's not something you would think of. What if bondage was the solution to your problem?"
She waited for him to continue. Realizing he actually had posed the question, she played along to see the end of this. "How can bondage be the solution to my problem?"
"Ah, yes, there's my point! Not that you are cowardly and afraid of the solution, as if you were Robin Hood but too scared to step up to the plate and steal. But bondage has stigma, so you don't even think in those terms. Nobody considers the solutions that have stigma associated with them. Not because..." He searched for words to try to explain himself. He had become quite involved in his explanation, a bit more engaged than she had ever seen him. "Not because you just follow the crowd or are uncreative, but because nobody thinks in those terms. People try to be creative within the choices that they are accustomed to thinking in terms of. They don't often run things through their mind that have stigma on them."
She was all geared up to step over and slap him, except that she was confused. Now she was trying to process what he was saying.
"Ok... so I'm not uncreative... I just don't think in terms of the solution?" It still sounded bad, but as it came out of her mouth, it was not insulting. It might have been a valid point. Actually, whether it was Robin Hood or not, she couldn't deny it actually – she obviously hadn't thought in terms of the solution to her problem since she was still failing. It still had a certain ring being said out loud by someone though, a connotation with it perhaps. It still felt like the fine edge of insulting.
"And I'm not just following the crowd, even though the crowd put the stigma there... I'm still confused." She thought she might be seeing some of what he was heading at now, but wanted him to clarify so she could figure it out and be sure he hadn't been insulting her.
Edan, on the other hand, didn't notice the softening in her words as she started to follow his point, as she started to reason that he hadn't actually meant to insult her. He saw her still standing, ready to bolt, and still just as agitated. He scrambled to explain. He'd brought up bondage, of all things, he thought to himself. Bondage, well, he's in now, he's got to make good onbondageof all things, can't turn away from it or this is done. He was already all in.
"What if you need that Algebra whipped into you in the bedroom?"
She was shocked, now. Just when she was about to accept his explanation and begin understanding what he had meant... he had just gone into a whole new place. She was speechless. She didn't need to say anything though, he was just as shocked at having said it and jumped full bore into explaining himself. "Everyone learns different. Now, I don't really know your problem that well, but just as a form of example I'm trying to explain -- What if what worked for you is something very non-standard, something with stigma associated with it?
Not all things with a stigma are actually bad. Bondage has a stigma because.. I don't know, all sorts of reasons. People getting hurt. Pain. Doesn't seem romantic, doesn't exactly fit into your typical Hollywood mainstream storyline." He was hovering off-topic, but he had to explain himself fully at this point, every side element. Besides, the shock had successfully thrown her off enough that he actually had a few moments to explain in detail.
"Most of the people who get into bondage follow what they've heard or seen, they throw on leather, they try to dominate, they really aren't creatively exploring something original, they're jumping along the same path as the guy before them, andthatguy put a bad reputation – a stigma – to his bondage. I don't know, there's a lot of reasons why bondage has stigma with it – but my point is just that not everything with stigma comes out the same way. It doesn't have to be all bad."
She suddenly realized he was sweating. It occurred to her that she really had him on the spot. He'd crossed a line and said something that... well, she didn't know how to characterize it. Inappropriate? Definitely! But... she reminded herself, she jumps to conclusions sometimes. Maybe... she had jumped to a conclusion too soon about what he was saying, and maybe... she'd pushed him into saying something more dramatic? Well, doesn't matter, he still shouldn't have said it. It was inappropriate. She respected herself, she wasn't a prude but her relationship with Edan was not at a point where he can just throw that out there and it be ok.
Her head was spinning. What about what he was actually trying to say? Does she respond to the insinuations? She tried for a moment to process his main point, focus just a little. She realized she was standing in place, looking dumbfounded as he stared at her. Ok, she needed to think, no reaction at all, she decided. "Uhm. Well, ok sorry, I need to think about everything you were just saying, try to sift through that. Can we pick this up again later?" Her softer tone showed that she was no longer bolting, just taking a leave.
"Sure." He said quietly, looking a good bit distraught and somewhat defeated, maybe confused as well.
She gathered her things, at a more casual but slightly hurried pace, and waved with a slight smile to show that she wasn't committed to being mad at him.
After she was out of sight, Edan's head fell to the table. He hit his forehead to the table several times as he muttered to himself, horrified at what had just happened.
Shyla nodded her head. "Yes, thank you. I will try harder!"
The professor didn't say anything else, but just glared at her. She could feel the pretense. Professors must get a lot of people into their office just looking for a shortcut, or a handout, or another way. She wasn't looking for a shortcut, she was just looking for any way. But, the professor didn't know that. And actually, although she normally wouldn't seek out a shortcut, with her increasing desperation she had to admit she was willing to consider it this time, so maybe the professor was right to think so.
She smiled and stood, then made her way out. She stopped in the hallway and rested her back against the wall. What was she going to do? She'd just spent an hour trying to understand what she had failed to understand when she turned in her latest homework, and still didn't really understand it. She felt like she'd gotten a few scraps out of it, but that they'd never stick.
The whole time she'd been in the office, she'd been so worried about proving to the professor that she could do this, that she could in fact understand it, that she was capable, that she hadn't really focused on the material. An hour lost...
Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. She felt so lost, so alone. Everyone else was showing success in their studies, well most everyone. She'd swallowed her pride and asked some of the most successful students. She also tried to understand the other students that she knew were struggling to see if she could learn what not to do.
Suddenly, she realized there were footsteps. She turned slightly away from the sound and quickly wiped her eyes. Then she looked to see who was coming and whether they had noticed her present state.
Two students approached side-by-side. She did not know them. She stood waiting until they passed. After they had passed her and assumed they were out of earshot, she overheard them comment that she looked like "another failing undergraduate that thinks they're entitled to a free pass." They must have been graduate students, she concluded. And assholes, she also concluded.
As they rounded the corner, she felt her eyes tear up again, and this time it wasn't going to stop. She tried to plan out a way to get out of the building with a minimal of running into other people.
Chapter 6
Edan sat, anxiously awaiting his coffee partner. It was 10 minutes past their usual meeting time, and Shyla was usually close to punctual. He focused hard on other thoughts, and every time his mind started wondering towards consideration as to whether she was coming he forced himself to focus on something random, anything he could see. A person walking. A bird in the tree. Anything, he didn't want to think himself into pain.
He didn't know if she would show again after his messy and embarrassing fiasco the week before. He was really frightened that he'd lost his coffee partner and good friend, Shyla, for good. He wanted to kick himself.
Why couldn't he just stick to societal norms and not say stupid things like that? He wanted to kick himself. Then, he saw Shyla appear at the patio doorway. He let out a heavy breath of relief.
She came up and sat down, smiling and in good temper it appeared.
"Hi Edan!" She said cheerily. "I'm sorry for getting so worked up last week." She opened.
She was sorry? Ah, that was good, she wasn't mad after all. He didn't need an apology, he'd just been worried that she was angry.
"No need, I was out of line."
"No, no I really thought about what you were saying."
"Oh uh you did?"
"Yeah. Well, I haven't had much choice. My entire life has been consumed with one moment after another of agony while I try to figure out how to fix my academic doom march."
"Oh.. Well, I uh—" he was at a loss for a good response.
She took a long pause, then made deep eye contact. He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. "So... about your little idea."
"My idea? Oh, well, yeah I mean did you come up with anything 'off-the-beaten track' that might help you?"
She explained, in a voice much softer than her usual, "no, not the idea to think outside the box, although I get that now. No, your specific idea."
"My...uh...huh?"
She looked around and leaned in. She paused. She tried to start saying something several times, but seemed at a loss for words.
In the pause, he was thinking through what she was saying. She had started blushing and was resting her face on her fist, supported by an arm on the table. She looked like she wanted to run for the hills.
When it became clear that she wanted help expressing herself, he finally asked, "You mean the bondage?"
She immediately turned her face before turning it back. He figured he'd embarrassed her by mentioning it again.
"Sorry, didn't mean to bring it—"
She made eye contact and nodded her head. She held the gaze. When she realized that he didn't understand, she repeated her nod. "Yes." She said simply.
"Yes what?"
She blushed and looked away again. He was afraid this must have been agonizing for her. She looked back. "What you said. Yes... the..."
"...bondage?"
"Yes."
"Oh, what about it?" He tried to stick to a conversational tone despite the unusual topic matter.
She took a deep breath. She had known this was going to be horribly difficult, but it was becoming too much. She was about to give up and accept the failing grade.
She didn't respond, and he could see her getting still more flush. He was confused. She meant the bondage? Did she... She couldn't possibly mean what he'd said about whipping it into her? No. He wasn't about to make an ass out of himself again, he wasn't even going to bring it up. He watched her, torn between her agony and trying to figure out what to say.
"Do you suppose something like that might really work?" She asked very softly, not as a matter of control but of obvious embarrassment.
"Something like...what, the bondage? Wow, uh, well. What about the bondage?" She nodded. Then she stayed silent. She buried her head under her arms on the table and kept peeking up at him with a gentle smile before hiding again. She actually seemed like she was getting over her embarrassment a little, or at least had dug in as far as she could be. She lifted her head back up, but she remained with a fist supporting her face close to the table, keeping about as small a profile as a person could at the table.
"You suggested that I needed to have it whipped into me."
"Oh! Yeah... uh, I don't know. Never really heard of anyone trying it before. I'd really meant it more of an example than a..." he suddenly realized how it must have seemed. "I didn't – I – it's not – I hadn't been thinking about it specifically or anything, I mean, it's not, I wasn't sitting around –"
"No, no that's ok, I'm not mad."
He scratched his head, also seeking out a lower profile but similarly with nowhere to hide. "Oh.. Uhm, well like I said, I don't know if anyone's ever tried it."
His heart was racing. Most guys probably would have picked up on the fact that she was asking him about this, not just researching it herself, on the internet or through girlfriends. He might have even considered that later, after their conversation, when he was reconsidering it in his mind. But, Edan was not really on watch for signs or "ins" as Mark like to call them.
But this conversation was so awkward that it was impossible for him to not recognize that something was up. He wouldn't consider it an invitation, or try to move on it, he might ordinarily flirt and tease about the idea, both for fun and to break the ice a little, but this seemed way too sensitive for her.
"Would..." She paused. "Would you..."
His heart sped up even faster. If that was possible. Was she asking him to try "whipping it into me"?
"You want me to..."
She swallowed and took a deep breath. Now came an obviously rehearsed line, one that she'd considered a lot and decided was an essential statement if she was really going to try this. There was no point trying something like this half way. "No limits." She said softly and very directly, making it clear that she was serious, but smiling slightly.
He sat smiling lightly, but mute.
She repeated. "No limits, anything that you think can be useful towards me learning the material and doing well in my class."
There, she'd gotten it out.
She tried to remain composed, having gotten it all out felt like a enormous weight was lifted. Although she now had to wait for a response.
"Is this how it feels to ask a girl on a date? You... you.. I don't know, you have all this angst and know what you want to say, and there's only this split second that you have to endure waiting for a response, but that one split second is so bad that it scares you to the bone?"
"Yes." He said simply, suddenly completely unsympathetic over the thought.
She made her eyes large as an obvious hint that she was waiting for her aforementioned response. "And..." she led him with a slight gesture of her hands.
He smiled. "Yes, I would enjoy trying to help you."
She felt another sigh of relief. She felt like she could collapse. It was over, and he had actually agreed to it. Roughly, the best possible outcome. Now all that remained was the part where she ran like she'd she'd never run before, jump off a bridge, leap into a pit, and find a good spot in the dirt to bury her head for at least 3-6 hours.
She got up from her chair.
"Uhm.. yeah so I'm horribly embarrassed now. I'm just going to... " She gestured toward the patio door. "Yeah, going now." She smiled and made a lighthearted expression.
"No need to be embarrassed, I know how hard that was – you're right, a whole lot like asking a girl on a date. Admiral that you got up the guts to ask!"
"Well... I'm sort of desperate. You know that. Anyway, still wanting to run. Going to now." In her dramatically more lighthearted motion she started walking away. Then she turned and stepped back towards him. She started to speak but stopped. Then turned. Then turned again.
"When's a good time for you?" She said with a face that could only express their joint feeling that one last thing unavoidably had to be asked before they could end the awkwardness.
"Uhm... Do you want to say my place tomorrow night?"
"Sure. E-mail me your address."
"Right, done. And Shyla..." She was already turned and a step away but paused, without turning back. "Thank you for thinking of me. I'm honored, really, and hope that I can help. We'll have a fun time of it, and don't be embarrassed, that was really hard, I know."
At no point did she turn back and look again, or say anything else, but after he finished and paused, she grew a smile that he could not see. She continued her walk outward with the smile. She could only describe her emotions as "shock and awe".
Chapter 7
Her body was ravaged. Her nipples felt sore. Her head was beginning to spin. She had to learn this material. Her legs were tied to the bed, but her arms were free. She sat up and began thumbing through the paper. Her mind was trying to get distracted, trying to destroy her focus, but she had to learn it. In the weeks before, her emotions couldn't take failure. Now, her body couldn't take failure.
Edan had been gentle. He'd actually been much more gentle than she'd expected. The problem was, she discovered, that extended periods of 'gently' punishing her sensitive spots on her body started adding up to a very, very strong reaction regardless of the intensity. And, he had used a slight growth in intensity as part of the technique, as well. She had noticed in fine detail.
She could lose focus all night and it would just mean more pain for her. There was failure here just as there would be on her exams, but it was a much more immediate failure, and it continually led to pain followed by an endless pattern of having yet "another chance". There was no judgment, no disappointment from her paingiver... In fact, it was just the opposite. Her failure gave him an excuse to rip off another piece of clothing, and then to whip her on her most sensitive areas. At first she was whipped through the clothing, but that was fading fast.
Here, the word "stop" was useless. She had a safeword, but there were rules – if she used it, they would quit for the night and she'd have to go home. She felt close to being a failure already, she wasn't about to give up her last bit of pride and admit defeat. No, the only word that could give her a break from the punishment was the correct answer to the problem.
She was given 30 minutes to study each time. Then, 10 minutes of punishment. Each time she provided an answer he was seeking, he would use up a minute of the punishment letting her rest. If she knew all the correct answers, and could provide them instantly, there was no pain to be had.
The first time, she simply drew blanks. She had been so nervous and distracted that she hadn't been able to focus on the papers in front of her.
The second time, she'd lost her shirt, and was nervous about her appearances, hoping he'd be pleased, and distractedly wondering what he was thinking.
By the third time, the punishment had become enough that she was no longer so concerned with him and had started worrying about herself. She started studying a little. She managed to memorize most of a condensed page of notes into her mind.
When the crop fell on her shoulder, she couldn't focus. She tried to picture the paper, the memorization sheet, and locate the information. What corner was it in? There it is... Finally it ca—another crop fall, this time on her chest. She was blindfolded, so never knew exactly when the crop would land.
"Division is multiplication by the reciprocal!" She blurted out, as soon as she realized it had positioned itself front and center in her mind.
"Correct. Very good my dear."
She relished that his voice sounded pleased. Although he had been quite non judgmental the entire time, there was also a hint of satisfaction that she had caught, that he had tried to conceal.
She was beginning to become more afraid of having nothing with which to stop him than of what would happen in her exam.
But, her memorization was less than perfect. By the 5th question, her memory slipped. The fact that she knew the rest of the paper was useless, she discovered! The whiplashes fell, but the punishment was brief. She must have consumed most of the 10 minutes by her successful answers.
She was relieved that she was beginning to succeed. And he would be pleased, she thought to herself, and smiled, as he was removing the blindfold. She saw the hint of a smile, but otherwise he completely hid any expression. Apparently, the lack of judgment would work both ways – she would not be rewarded with praise or happiness for her answers just as she was not judged for her failings. She supposed that was fair, after all if he got himself emotional in either direction then how would he keep from wanting to do something else with the girl tied to his bed? Besides, if he presented responses then it would make her focus on alternatives to knowing the answer, like other things she might say. Knowing he was going to stick to the rules perfectly gave her mind no place to wander – there was a but a singular path – to have a correct answer in her mind was to know a word that meant "Stop! Break! Pause! Mercy!"
The next half hour passed and she continued to study carefully. This time she memorized twice as much material, able to focus after her success. But, the questions had become a little more challenging, and she still failed to answer all of them correctly.
She felt dismayed as he left the room. If her success was always met with harder questions, then there was to be no solution for her. She would simply be tormented all night. She let herself sink into sadness and failure, wallowing in her hopeless situation. Time passed as she was lost in the desolate bog of discouraged thoughts. But with the half hour nearly exhausted, her body began shivering slightly. Wherever her conscious mind might be staying, her subconscious was whispering to her that she had to do something. She became very worried about the immediate problem of the 10 minutes about to come, and put aside her concern over having no overall escape.
When he returned, he began with several questions that she easily answered. She was happy, they were not any more challenging than before and she'd relieved herself of several minutes of pain.
Then, she felt his hand on her arm. This was different, she thought. He slid it up her forearm with a gentle touch. He loosened the thick, painless rope that held her hands together, and over her head. He removed the blindfold.
He sat her onto an armless chair, and positioned a pillow behind her back. Then a second pillow, but removed it, adjusting until she was positioned where he wanted her, and forced to sit towards the front of the chair.
Then he reached to her thighs with his hands. He applied a gentle pressure, motioning for her to spread her legs apart. She obliged, slowly, hesitantly. He pressed a little more, demonstrating that being gentle did not imply he was making a request.
He proceeded to wrap some gentle rope around her in various places, fixing her mostly in place. Her legs were completely locked in position, and her torso, but her arms were free. At this point, her panties were her only remaining protection from the crop, and they were thin enough to provide little of it. He brought a small table up to her, and handed her paper and a pencil.
"Here is your problem." He paused, but not for long. "A shopping cart contains only apples, oranges, and pears. There are twice as many oranges as apples—" she suddenly realized she was supposed to be writing it down. Oh, what was it he just said? " and three times as many pears as oranges. How many pears are there in terms of the number of apples?"
She had failed to write down the first sentence. She had no choice but to ask. "Sir... Could you repeat the first sentence?"
She suddenly felt a flash of the whip on her back. She had become accustomed to the punishment coming in a certain form, and she'd been laid down on her back for all of the previous sessions. To feel the whip on her naked back was a new sensation!
Her teacher walked around, in front of her. That frightened her, because she knew he had easy access to her front side. She was attentive, as if she had not been before.
"A shopping cart contains only apples, oranges, and pears." He repeated, very matter-of-factly. She wished he would display some emotion, some sign of his feelings.
She jotted down the details of the problem. She couldn't focus. This problem was not memorization, but a thought problem. She was stripped to her panties, being whipped with a crop, whip, and other various things she did not even recognize. How could she possibly answer a question requiring so much thought?
Then it suddenly occurred to her. Now that her eyes were open, she was more aware of her surroundings. She'd learned to ignore them with the blindfold on. She was both impressed that she had overcome some of her focus problems, able to ignore her environment long enough to answer his questions. Then, she was suddenly terrified! It had suddenly occurred to her that she was very aroused. And it would be quite evident on her panties, which Edan was now standing directly in front of.
"Time is up."
Shit. She was supposed to be thinking about apples, not cherries. She decided that if she could master her focus and concentration in this environment, and control these strong emotions, the exam room was going to be a breeze.
He stepped behind her. She dared not turn to look, unsure if that was permitted. When he returned ahead of her, he carried scissors with him. The silk panties she had brought for the special occasion were about to leave ahead of her.
Oh God, she thought. He was about to get an even better glimpse at how aroused she was.
Chapter 8
"I'm really glad that we still do coffee. I really enjoy these little chats."
"Yeah, me too."
Shyla paused a moment. She'd been wondering about something. "So, do you enjoy being dominant?"
He almost coughed it seemed, caught a little off-guard. Although they were much more comfortable with each other now, through the sheer force of it all, they were still quite awkward verbally.
After the first session, most of their study time was just that – studying. He resorted to punishment much less often, usually towards the end of the night when her focus was beginning to fade. The rest of their time was spent intensely studying. He avoided small talk with her during the time that was reserved for studying.
On top of that, the addition of preparation time for their sessions had consumed all of their remaining free time. For her, it was homework that he would give her between then and the next session. For him, it was writing homeworks, preparing questions, planning out their sessions. It had prevented them from finding any new social time despite their new private habits together.
Obviously, their communication had not been forced into high gear as quickly as other elements of their friendship had been. But, the process of asking him to help her and of him originally suggesting the bondage sessions, as well as the enormous amount of time spent together had all helped some.
Still, they always avoided talking about their sessions during coffee. She presumed that he wanted them to have some time that they spent together where the bondage and classwork were excluded. As far as she could tell, it might have actually been part of his plans for helping her learn the material; he may have felt it necessary for success. And she had never raised the subject over coffee, except to set times for their next meeting. And that was always phrased as if they were simply getting together to study, and nothing more special than that.
"I guess so." He responded. "I do, yes. But I don't like...Hmm, how to explain... I have a hard time dominating someone until I am certain that's what they want. Maybe that means the answer is no? I think to be a 'dominant' you are supposed to step into their space and take charge, right? That's sort of the opposite."
"Also, I don't really like to scare. I don't see the point, really. In our case, we sort of found a point, a reason why it can be a useful tool. But normally, I think no."
She pondered his answer. It didn't really explain any of what she was actually getting at. For the many sessions they'd had, he had never taken off his clothes, or tried to pursue her past the same techniques he'd always used. He restricted himself. Even though she had told him no limits, he seemed to have solid ones he had put in place himself. She was impressed, actually, that he had stuck to them. Maybe she was just that unattractive, she considered, that it wasn't so hard. It would probably make her feel like he was doing her a favor, and nothing more, but he did flirt sometimes over coffee. Nothing pertaining to the sessions, just playfulness. It might have been sympathy flirting to keep her spirits up.
"Were you hoping for more dominance?"
She brought her mind back to the conversation. "No. No, I was just wondering. No, I think you are very good at it, you don't need to worry." She considered how to rephrase to figure out what she really wanted to know. She couldn't think of anything. She didn't want coffee to turn awkward. She had spoken the truth, he was good at his part, or at least she thought so. There wasn't much more to say on the subject. She gave up for now, hoping that having danced on the subject might get him to open it up again at some point, and then maybe she could ask more directly.
Chapter 9
Shyla sat in her familiar chair, the same one she'd claimed for the previous examination. The test was about to arrive into her hands.
She realized her palms were sweaty. She was highly emotional, and knew that wasn't going to help.
The test arrived. She threw it down onto the desk and went to dig in. As she started writing her name, she snapped that she had failed to pass the rest of the pile to the person behind her. Slightly embarrassed she grabbed the pile behind the page with her name and separated it, handing them to the next student.
She wrote her name. She started reading. She couldn't make it entirely through the first sentence before her mind drifted to her fears, her worries. That made her feel out of control, and her mind drifted further. But after a few moments, she told herself to focus. It worked for a moment. Then after another sentence her focus was gone again.
She was on the verge of panic, she wanted to run out screaming, admitting to the world her dirty little secret, that she was a failure. She didn't know what to do. Focus, she told herself again. She made herself attempt the first problem.
She recognized it. It was ok, she knew this. Or she thought she knew it. What if she'd spent too much time playing around with Edan in something that she thought was an exotic solution to her problem, and in reality had just wasted the time she should have been studying on whatever she had wanted to be doing? Oh God. Focus, she told herself, at least try, she thought.
She completed the first and second problem. The third problem was less familiar to her. She started wondering if all the long hours of pain just hadn't been enough. She felt like she'd worked so hard, but maybe it just wasn't enough. She should have put in more time.
Suddenly, she felt something. She felt something in her private area. It was a tingling. She knew immediately what it was. Edan had given her a bottle. The bottle was completely unmarked, and contained something watery, or oily. He had given her explicit instructions that before the exam, she was to go into the girl's bathroom and rub some of it on her private self. It had aroused her a little, to be in the bathroom, touching herself on his instructions. She'd paused to rub her clit a little. Not knowing what the oil was had left her pondering what effect it would have, and so she'd taken the time to lower her skirt in a private stall and watch herself as she put it on. As she rubbed the oil on, and felt herself, she kept thinking that this was a similar view to what Edan had in session with her. It left her aroused.
Now, she felt a tingling. The oil must have had some sort of...delayed reaction. It made her shift in her seat a little. It reminded her of Edan. She became frightened – what other effects would this have? What would it to do her? Was it going to force her to get up and go to the bathroom? Or something more embarrassing, was it going to...affect...her down there? Would she soon find herself moaning uncontrollably and touching herself in the middle of the exam? What kind of mystery lotion was this, she wondered. Well, all that was a pretty tall order from an oil, she reasoned. She put it out of her mind, but she now had a solid reminder of Edan. She could feel him, the tingling he had decided to give her, in the place where he liked to give her sensations.
She closed her eyes. She pictured herself alone in the bedroom with Edan. She pictured the silence. She imagined herself waiting for him. She imagined that she was on the timer, that she had 30 minutes until he returned and punished her. She wanted him to see her good work. She wanting him to see that she had not wasted the 30 minutes. So many times she had wasted it, or done a poor job. She'd spent many of those 30 minute opportunities running the same sort of thoughts through her head that were now hitting her. Fears upon fears. Fears of fears.
Then she pictured him at the doorway. She pictured him walking over to her.
"This is a special session." He said, in her imagination.
"I am her to keep you on task." He said in a dominating, more threatening voice than he usually took.
"You do not have a half hour. Instead, you will be punished every time you lose focus. Each time I will come in. And I will whip you once. Each time harder. If you stay focused, I won't appear at all until you are done, and then I will be proud of you. If I have to come in too many times, I will start ripping your clothes off. Right there, in front of the other students. If you focus, I'll reward you. If you focus, I'll reach down there, and touch you with my own fingers. Then I'll massage every inch of your body. Then..."
She wished he could be there. She repeated the words again in her mind, picturing him saying them. The idea had settled in. She was starting to feel the fear of him, instead of all the other fears, and the wish to please him. She didn't know if she could pass her test or succeed in her classes, but she knew she could please him with really hard work, even if just slightly.
She opened her eyes and saw only her exam, and his voice.
Chapter 10
Mark and Edan were walking back to their car. Edan had been noticeably quiet, his mind obviously adrift.
Mark decided to break the monotony. Maybe he could even get Edan to open up about what was troubling him. "You know, I'm trying to take your advice man."
"What advice?"
"About not following the leader. Thinking more for myself."
"Oh, Mark, I didn't really mean I thought you—"
"No, no it's alright. It doesn't matter how much I do or don't do it, it's one of those things that can always be improved."
"Hmm. I think I'm full of crap man."
"How so?"
"I try to do things differently and I just end up confused and lost by myself."
"Yo, what's up man?"
"Going off and doing things 'my way' has just left me with no herd to guide me. I've gotten myself into a more confusing situation. Uncharted territory."
"Well, is it good uncharted territory, or are we talking about the Sahara desert here?"
Their conversation was interrupted as they entered the car, Edan driving.
"Yeah, it's good. It's a nice luscious valley, really."
"Wow, well hey that's good man."
"Yeah, except I'm lost in it and don't know my way around. Plus I'm running out of resources."
"I think your analogy is a little too broad man. I haven't got a clue what you're talking about."
"Hmm, well. Yeah I don't think I do either."
"Well, I suppose what you're describing is what happens when you don't follow the crowd, there are advantages lost. The herd is good at finding grass, and well protected, you know. Being on your own may have some advantages, but it means you have to do everything alone, too, and figure everything out on your own. Not fun, that's probably why people stick to the herd. Going it alone is hard work. Is it paying off?"
Edan smiled and thought about his answer for a moment. "Yes, it's worth it. I'm just afraid that I'm going to fail in the goal. I have the weight of another person's fate on my hands, and I'm going to feel terrible if I mess this up."
"Who's the other person?"
"That girl I told you about. Shyla. I'm trying to help her pass her algebra class, I've been tutoring her."
"Oh. Seems pretty straightforward. Just teach her the material."
"You'd think. Funny how seemingly simple things can be really complicated."
"Getting pretty wrapped up in this aren't you? You're already helping her. Now it's up to her to succeed, not you."
"Oh I'm all too well aware of that. I can't do it for her. But, my part is to be a good teacher, and I feel a big obligation to do my part right. Unfortunately, I'm not sure that I have the faintest clue that I know what I'm doing."
"Every teacher and every student is different. Hard to say what makes a good one other than what works for you."
"Yeah. My teaching method might be on the other side of the moon from being the right approach."
"What's your method?"
"Let's just say I'm trying to use my charm to motivate her."
"Ahhh... I see. See, you went and made it personal. Always dangerous."
"Not sure... It's more like it's personal for her, not for me. I make sure she doesn't get any feedback from me, otherwise I'd be intermixed with the part where it actually depends on her, and I want to make sure not to take on the student's role, only the teacher's role."
"Yeah, makes sense. Sounds like you've got it figured out pretty well man, that's an important part of being a teacher – not taking the success or failure of the student on yourself."
"Yeah well maybe. That's one element of it. But that's like a drop of water in the ocean, doesn't really address whether I've got the rest of it right."
"Well, Edan, you can always rejoin a herd."
"Yeah, I know. It's constantly worrying me that I should give up on my pompous, self-serving need to do things my own way and return to the conventional. Especially with someone else involved."
"If you were really being pompous and self-serving, I don't think you'd be worrying about it."
Without knowing any of the details of what was going on, or even being aware that Edan was doing something very unconventional, he'd offered him a little reassurance. It was impressive that he'd been able to discuss it through analogy and actually get useful advice out of it. Now if only analogies were a working mechanism for communicating with Shyla, that would be really helpful.
Chapter 11
Shyla knocked on the door. Edan opened and let her in. They immediately began discussing the exam she had just received back. Edan instructed her to hand the exam to him. She didn't want to, but knew better than to refuse. She had told him no limits, and that made it difficult for her to hide from him as long as he was paying attention.
The grade was an improvement over her first exam, but was not good enough. She'd accomplished a C-. Averaged with her first exam and most of her homework, she had already calculated that it was not going to bring her up enough to pass the class.
Edan sat down at the dining table. He parsed through the exam, cold and emotionless. He focused more intensely on it than she had while taking the exam.
After a long time of carefully looking through it, he set it down and stared past her. He was clearly contemplating the situation. Shyla began trying to speak, trying to make him feel better or something... She offered some excuses. She wanted so badly for him to be proud and excited for her, not disappointed. But she had failed, yet again, in accomplishing that.
He listened and nodded, but did not say a word. She finally gave up after speaking for several minutes.
"You have only the final exam and some homeworks remaining."
"Your homework is worth 30%. Your final is worth 30%. We're going to have to do better."
"Yes, sir." She said meekly.
"I must pause and ask if you want to continue this approach to working on your grade. We've tried it through one of your exams, you've had a chance to see what it's like and whether it would work. It's up to you, do you want to continue?"
"Yes, sir." She responded, still looking towards the floor. He had never commanded her to address him as sir, nor did she typically do so, but at the moment she was frightened, and trying to smooth over her failure as best she could.
"No limits?"
Secretly, she became slightly excited. Were things going to change? Perhaps this might break him free to "explore" more options with her.
"Yes, sir, whatever you believe is necessary."
"I will require more of your time. From now on, I will dictate your schedule. For now, you will spend 3 nights a week here, and for the remaining 2 weeknights you will be studying on your own. The following night when you arrive here you will be quizzed for the studies while you were away."
"Yes, sir. I can do that."
"Good. Go into the bedroom and begin studying. We're beginning with Chapter 1 again."
"Ok."
He paused for a moment.
"I will begin giving you exams of my own. They will be comprehensive, covering material from the beginning of the course. Although I do not often punish you during studies anymore, unless you lose focus, you will be treated differently during our exams. Your exams will be broken into several segments, which I will grade as you work. If you fall behind, or answer incorrectly, you will be punished while you continue to work. The farther behind you fall, the harder it will be to catch up while I am still tormenting you. Also... On exams, you will be punished more harshly than you are accustomed to."
More harshly, she thought? At least she would get practice with the pressures of the exam. But her hope for some relief, a little return from him, were dashed. It sounded as if he was even further from wanting to give her what her body was craving.
It was alright, she trusted him. Allowing him to guide her studies meant that she no longer had to consider the many conflicting pieces of advice her friends offered. She no longer had to sift through it all, or reconsider her approach. She had only the small subset to worry about, the process of learning. The rest was left to her teacher, Edan. Although his system for teaching her had not solved her problem, it had brought her to a C. She thought that quite sufficient to prove that he was helping, and was more than enough for her to be willing to let him continue.
Edan was not feeling nearly as confident that he could really help her.
Chapter 12
Four months had passed since they had begun their "study sessions". Although she never gave details, that's what she always called them to her friends who had observed the large amount of time they spent together. She had allowed Edan to try and do anything he felt helpful to help her learn. He could have taken her at his will, but he had continually stopped short of that, in fact he had remained impressively detached and had always managed to stop himself from indulging in what was right before him, aside from whatever pleasure he was gleaming from being able to see her naked and controlling the instruments which punished her.
It was quite strange, she'd thought. Most men would act on an opportunity that included far less than her being tied to a bed naked and obviously aroused. But Edan had not. She could see it in his eyes that he wanted her, quite desperately. Yet he always managed to keep himself from acting beyond his mission to help her.
At almost every session, when she felt herself aroused and desperate for some relief, she would have welcomed advances from him. If nothing else, in every session she desperately yearned for some relief for the punishment, she would have accepted him for that alone. Yet he never acted.
She had concluded that he was simply not attracted to her. That he viewed what he was doing as a favor, or a service, and that he liked her as a friend, but apparently, nothing more.
They continued their weekly coffee meetings, but they continued to avoid most personal subjects, and especially as a subject came closer and closer to discussion about their secret private time together. It was still an opportunity to get to know one another a little better, but the whole thing had become strange. It felt very odd that they should be getting to know each other so slowly when they knew each other – or at least he knew her – so intimately.
Now her class was over. She would find out her final grade within a few more days. She had found that her focus, concentration, and motivation to study could all be helped by their sessions. She had contemplated asking him for help with other issues, things that only indirectly affected her grade. She even pondered whether his sessions could help her solve personal problems, things such as bad habits or problems she simply struggled with. She wanted to, curious whether he could find more creative solutions to more of her problems, but she held back. She didn't want to rock the boat, and didn't want to impose on him to have to devote more time and effort into solving problems that were really hers to tackle.
She didn't know yet if their crazy plan to use bondage as a learning tool had succeeded in its original mandate, to help her pass her class. She felt as if she'd learned a lot, and knew a lot about algebra, but she was still not sure if she'd been mixing in wasteful playtime in the guise of a study aide, or if it had actually helped her. She thought it helped her, she felt it did, but it was a strangely subjective thing. The class had spanned such a long period of time, with so many assignments, exams, study sessions, and the many changes in technique throughout the semester that it had been impossible for her to ask herself whether it really worked as she had felt it did.
She sat across from him, sipping coffee.
She had become frustrated. This was a boy she had found attractive before her classwork had become an issue. She'd known that accepting his offer for help would destroy any chance of a relationship, and had accepted that in hopes of passing her class, not to mention in order to learn and discover more about herself. But, now she found herself very disappointed in having closed off other avenues with him. She could not eve—
"Would you care to have dinner with me some time?"
It was an out of the blue invitation. In fact, they'd been sitting in silence for nearly 10 minutes. He must have been considering asking her that whole time? Why? She was now quite solidly confused. But, she'd have to work out her thoughts later, the question was poised. "Sure." She said, careful not to look overenthusiastic so she could have time to think.
"Normally I would suggest going out, but since we know each other well, can I cook for you? Dinner at my place, Friday?"
Now her heart was racing. So, he was interested in her after all? But how could they possibly get anywhere having started the way they had? Well, it was a lot to think about, she would have to ponder it later. "Sure, that would be nice." She said, permitting him a small smile as was her prepared reaction to such sequences.
He smiled back, and started to rise from his seat. She suddenly realized that their lunch had run late, in fact they'd been sitting there for 15 minutes longer than normal.
They said their parting pleasantries, but she remained seated. She had a lot to sort out.
So if he did find her attractive, why had he not acted when he'd had so much opportunity? Had he been waiting for an invitation of some sort? There was not much more "invitation" that she could think of than being tied to a bed, displayed and vulnerable, and obviously wanting.
Perhaps he was feeling obligated? Maybe having been with her so many times in such a way made him feel a responsibility of some sort to take her on a date. Oh, that would be terrible. She was grateful to him, the last thing she felt was that he had to get her dinner as some sort of obligation.
The odd path they had taken in their friendship had completely distorted any of the regular patterns of dating. She had been along the dating sequence enough times, and had learned some things about the process. She could read things from the procession of the sequence, and could use the sequence to maneuver.
Now, she was trying to attract this man. She really, really wanted to attract him. She had always liked him, but she had only grown more fond of him with time, and on top of that, was desperately anxious to rebalance things. She'd been exposed to him so many times, in so many ways. She felt naked just sitting at the café with him. And now she would have to maneuver "in the dark", along this strange path that their relationship had taken.
She became disheartened. How much had she given up that she would need to be able to successfully carry this to the point where he was mutually attracted to her? She had lost most of her ability to tease, certainly visually, and somewhat physically. She tried to force herself to be optimistic for a moment. She had been teasing him all along, she thought. He had seen her exposed but had never been able to progress any further. She just wasn't confident enough in her appearance to feel very good about that idea. She tried to ponder whether her naked appearance could be teasing to him, but it was too hard, she cringed and forced her thoughts away from it, sticking to her usual conclusion that her many flaws were best concealed until very late in the dating sequence.
Chapter 13
It was Friday. She had 4 hours until her date. She'd already spent 5 hours scouring the mall for something appropriate to wear. For the entire week, her mind and emotions had been completely consumed by the date that would begin in just a few hours. She was a nervous wreck.
She sat down on a bench. It was hopeless. She was tired from walking so long. She'd purchased 2 dresses, spending almost $200, and was not content with either. She stared across the mall at a lingerie store and pondered what was "the right approach".
She tried to find a situation to compare to, so as to gather her direction again. She pondered, "What would a girl wear after she'd had sex with a guy? That's a close analogy."
Most girls would... Wait... most girls... Her usual approach... It suddenly occurred to her. The sexual side of their friendship had started with a discussion of stigma, and following the herd. She'd been so incensed with him for accusing her, that day, of not thinking for herself, of lack of creativity. It must have been horrible for him, she realized, thinking back. And all he'd wanted to do was to get her to consider more exotic approaches to her problem. To "think outside the box" was the usual phrase, although she had always thought that a very silly, cold expression for a suggestion to take a more impassioned, creative look at one's problem.
She let herself wonder... Could that be why he had been so unwilling to take advantage of her? Had it been the harsh tone she'd given him? Maybe she had frightened him into standing off? But.. No, there were so many other explanations. The fact that he had even made a suggestion like that was certain evidence that she had failed to make him sufficiently nervous, and therefore he obviously didn't have strong feelings for her. But... Oh, she was so confused.
She looked again at the lingerie store.
Sure, she thought. Why try to change the course of this now? She didn't know whether their unconventional approach to schoolwork had succeeded or not, so she couldn't really judge from that. But, something inside her told her that breaking away from the conventional wisdom had been the right thing to do.
She thought back to the day when he'd first made the bondage analogy that she turned into a proposal, and eventually became reality. She thought, "I owe him a little for enduring my wraith in making the suggestion that first day. Not so much for successfully helping me through my class, since after all, he'd received quite a bit of repayment for that with what he'd been allowed to see and do, which was surely enjoyable for him." No, when her other friends had nothing to offer but useless advice like, "don't procrastinate", he had gone out on a very large limb and suggested something so exotic. And he'd received scorn for it. It worked out for him later, with everything it led to, but she was accepting that she owed him a little something for that first conversation.
Besides, the hell with the usual form that dating takes. It never worked anyway, just like her usual approach to studying hadn't been working.
She stepped into the lingerie store.
Chapter 14
The doorbell rang. She was nervous as could be. He had no warning to expect her to be dressed as she was. What if it wasn't appropriate? What if this wasn't even a date? What if it was casual and he actually had someone with him? Here she was, standing on his doorstep in lingerie. Lingerie! What if the neighbors saw?
She heard him approaching. He was unlocking the door. Every instinct in her body told her to run and hide. She could, she could hide beside the door. She thought, "Quick, cover yourself!" Somehow, her body didn't move. It was undecided which direction in which to run, and so had frozen instead. There—
Suddenly, he was there. He looked at her. He was looking at her face. "Hello Shyla, come on in." What? Had he.. He hadn't noticed? Really? Wow. He pulled back into the house, holding the door open for her. She was in shock. She couldn't take a step.
She was not just wearing lingerie, she was wearing dramatic lingerie. It was completely transparent, and every part of her body was exposed. Although it extended from above her breasts to near her thighs, and it slightly tinted the skin beneath it, she wore no bra, no panties. Only a golden pattern on the lingerie broke up the visibility, and it really didn't break it up that much.
"I've made some seafood, I hope..." He trailed off. While holding the door he could not really see her. But, she hadn't advanced either. He must have realized it odd.
"I... I hope that's..." He took a slight step forward to try to discern why she hadn't stepped into the doorway. He looked at her. Oh boy, she thought! Second glance would—
"Wow!"
Yeah. Wow! That expressed it pretty well.
"You look... You look incredible!"
Wow. That expressed it pretty well. This was so much worse than ordinary dating. In ordinary dating, if a boy said something like that as she arrived, it meant he liked her dress. Or, he was being polite. Or, he wanted to take her to bed and was trying to flatter her. With a perfectly normal dress that completely concealed her body, the questions that arose from a simple statement like, "You look incredible" were countless. All her practice with dating, and she probably still wouldn't have been able to read such a statement in an ordinary situation, and this was anything but.
She'd really put herself out there, and now she had no idea what to think. She couldn't think...it was all too much, too fast, her heart was racing so fast that her mind wasn't functional. She felt her legs start to move in. One step. Only one step. Then she was frozen again.
Suddenly, he reached out one hand towards her. Oh God. Her world was spinning.
He touched behind her side. He was pulling her in, gently. Oh God.
He was smiling. She looked at his face. He was trying to be comforting, she realized. She also realized that his arm was shaking. Not just a little, either.
He was drawing her into the house. It suddenly occurred to her that she was paralyzed, and he was trying to help her into the house with a gentle single arm around her side.
Oh God. She was more embarrassed than an embarrassed person. She was more embarrassed than a humiliated person. This was worse than being tied to the bed. She suddenly found herself yearning for 50 lashes in her most sensitive spots. Please, she would trade!
"You look really great. I'm pretty... I'm pretty at a loss here..." He was stumbling with his words. Actually, he was almost stumbling physically. Why? She was confused. She was the one exposed, why was he so nervous?
"I'm sorry, I didn't expect..."
"It's ok." She managed to softly get out, with a voice so weak she wasn't sure it was audible at all.
"It's ok, I... I can't believe you went to so much effort to look... look nice for dinner with me!"
"...I don't know what to say either." She smiled and lowered her face, trying to hide into her chest.
"I... I don't think you need to say anything. It's just...just amazing. I've never seen anyone look so beautiful."
She was frightened, and excited all at the same time. He liked the clothes? Or he liked her... Or he was just dramatically turned on... It was hard enough to distinguish those two broad and common categories that boys fell into...whether they sincerely liked a girl, or they just wanted sex. She was not even trying to blur the lines or opt for the first one, instead she'd put herself out there nearly naked. Was she conveying herself as easy? Well, hell, she was already past that point, she figured.
Her thoughts had finally slowed down enough that she began to take Edan and his reaction in. She realized that he was dressed very nicely himself. He had donned a button shirt with a tie, although he hadn't gone all the way to a suit. He'd also worn black jeans instead of slacks. It was not formal, but she'd never seen him dressed like that, and he had obviously chosen carefully.
Edan of course had barely seen the dress. When he first opened the door, he too was quite nervous. He'd not even noticed it. That had only embarrassed him more on his second look, when he realized what kind of dress she was wearing. It was obvious that he'd not noticed at first, and that embarrassed him. Even on the second look, he'd barely caught it out of his peripheral vision as he did not want to be caught staring. Then, his complete uncertainty as to how to handle the situation left him certain that he'd handled it poorly.
He did, after all, want to attract this girl. He'd been yearning for her for so long. He could not even count the number of times where he'd wanted to do more than punish her. Every single session, he'd wanted so desperately to reward her. To reward her, and to thank her. Thank her not just for the opportunity to see her naked, to be alone with her, to be the one to administer her "training", as he thought of it. No, he wanted to thank her just for being her.
He wanted to thank her for their weekly coffee meetings. He wanted to thank her for the first day they'd met. He wanted to thank her for being willing to step outside of the norm with him. He wanted to thank her for overcoming stigma. He wanted to thank her for every minute of his life since the day she'd come to him for advice on her classwork.
And he'd wanted to thank her so badly. He'd wanted to thank her in the most intimate ways he could imagine. And he had imagined an awful lot of them, while he was alone with her, training her. But he had always held back.
It had required a great many things to be able to accomplish it, to be able to hold himself back. The most critical one was the simple fact that she had never asked him to cross that line, and Edan always tried to respect a woman's wishes.
Normally, the kind of request she made, for 'bondage style, no limits' help with her class, would have been viewed as an obvious excuse that she wanted to get into bed with him. But, Edan didn't make assumptions like that, and when she said she wanted help with her class that was what he took her to mean. After all the emotion she'd shown about the class, and angst she'd shown in asking him, he'd had little doubt about it.
The "no limits" statement was an open door, he knew, and considered almost every day. But, it was an open door, not her wish. Worse, it was an open door that she'd had to create for him to be able to help her, not one that she was necessarily hoping he would use beyond its purpose. Just because it had been completely within his rights and options didn't make it something he would utilize.
Of course, her "wishes" were made pretty clear with every session. He could see it on her body, and exasperation, in almost every session that included their unique form of sexuality. But that wasn't fair -- He'd put her in that state, he'd whipped her into a frenzy, and exposed her, and forced her body to feel all sorts of things outside of her control.
He'd also never once removed his clothing in their sessions. That had been critical. He'd never let himself. He'd prepared himself mentally, and physically, as best he could, to be able to control himself throughout their sessions.
She finally stepped inside. It occurred to him that she was more hesitant to come inside and let him see her than she was to stay in his doorway, on display for the world outside to see. That encouraged him a little, could mean she was actually nervous. But then, of course she was nervous, look at the way she was dressed. It didn't mean she was nervous because of him.
She paused just inside. He realized that this was going to be awkward. The normal procession would be for her to walk ahead of him after he shut the door behind her, but that was going to give him quite an opportunity to examine her from behind without being able to watch him do it. She hesitated, possibly having the same thought. Although under normal circumstances stealing a quick glance at a girl was certainly within his realm of behaviors, in this case he wanted to stick to his best behavior. He shut the door and moved quickly to walk beside her, not wanting to take the look that he wasn't really offered.
She approached the dining room table where he'd set some plates with the meal. Suddenly she lost her breath. He had gone to a lot of trouble! There was breaded fish, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and a sauce. She couldn't help but look to her side, to him, and let out her biggest smile.
Edan smiled, gleeful that she liked the food and preparation he'd come up with. She cares, he thought to himself. It had an effect on her, he knew it did.
She said softly and sincerely, "Thank you."
He sat down across the table. "It's no trouble. Well, maybe some trouble, but well worth it, anyway."
She spoke slowly, a sign that she had switched to something she wanted to express carefully, more sincerely. "No. I mean... Thank you... For everything. I received my grade."
"Oh you did?" Edan was all ears, showing full interest.
"I scored a C+. I passed." She smiled.
"Ah! Well, that's great! Very good job!"
"Thank you, you were a great teacher."
"I didn't do nearly as much as you think. Being open-minded solves problems. Not even that you come up with new things when you are open-minded, sometimes just being open-minded will enable you. In this case, I think just trying something dramatically different was all you needed."
"No, my friends had offered me dramatic advice. Nothing as dramatic as what you'd come up with, but dramatically contrasting advice anyway. I'd tried going from one end of the spectrum to the other. In fact, it was part of my problem. I was changing my technique so fast, so often, that I wasn't taking any time to figure out what worked. My desperation was keeping me from helping myself."
"Well... It was actually your idea anyway. I had meant it to make a point. You were the one who actually thought to try it. And I'm..uh, well, I'm really glad you did." He made eye contact to go with the admission that he'd withheld.
"Really? I had thought that you were... I don't know... It seemed like you just saw it as doing me a favor, and nothing more."
"No! No, I loved it all along! Although...well, at first I was really excited when you asked me to try this bondage discipline on you. But when I saw how much the class mattered to you... I started thinking the whole thing was something you needed, and that it didn't have that much to do with me. I was flattered that you wanted me to be the one to help you, but when I saw how passionate you were about the class..."
They were both a little shocked at the revelations coming out. "I was passionate about the class because you'd started watching my every move! I wanted to make you proud of me, and I didn't want to look like an idiot to you!"
His hopes soared. Maybe, just maybe, she would give him an opportunity tonight -- a quiet but clear invitation -- for that single kiss he'd been desperately yearning for.
"Shyla, even if you hadn't passed your class, I don't really judge people based on their exam scores. I wouldn't have thought less of you for it. Although, your determination, your drive, that was something that I judged you on...and my judgment is that you are impressive... and... wonderful."
"Aw, Edan... Thank you. I have to confess, there was a little more to it than just wanting to impress you. Having a whip threatening me at every moment was...pretty motivational. But, if it were just the whip, it wouldn't have worked."
"Why is that?"
She paused. They held each other's gaze for a moment. Then, she answered, "Because I wouldn't have come back if it hadn't been you guiding the whip."
