Deviance | 18+ | ✓ | REWRITING

i i i .

Marie had persistent trouble staying focused the rest of the week. She couldn't tell if she was dreading the approaching Friday... or anticipating it.

The size of the class dwindled significantly. Readings were lengthy, assignments rigorous, but Marie found the subject fascinating. And as intimidating as he was, Professor Dameron was a captivating and charismatic lecturer. He was extremely well-versed and knowledgeable in his field, warranting his many accolades and respect amongst peers. The week flew by, Marie almost forgetting about their post-class encounter on the first day...

"The other day my roommate was telling me how she knows a bunch of girls who've tried to get favors outta Dr. Dameron if you catch my drift," Ashly spilled as she, Caleb, and Marie walked out of their final class for the week, the weekend finally in their grasps. For Marie, this meant it was Friday and she had an important paper to turn in by the evening.

"Damn, either he's gay or he takes his job really seriously." Caleb chuckled but Ashly nudged him hard. Marie didn't react, more focused on what Ashly had said earlier. Marie had wondered whether her circumstance was unique or the professor enjoyed singling out students like her on the regular.

"It's not our place to speculate his sexuality," Ashly replied, shooting daggers that got Caleb to put his hands up innocently. "But the latter is definitely true. He's supposed to be our new president next year. God, I need a letter of recommendation from him. Imagine having a rec letter from the president of Wentworth University? I'd be a hot applicant to any med school."

"You got this," Marie tried to encourage with a small smile, but eventually cringed at her effort. She had always struggled in the social and emotional intimacy aspect of relationships - platonic or not.

"Says the girl who got to talk to him after class on the first day," Ashly responded, more in a more light-hearted way than condescending.

"Yeah, what the hell was that about, M?" Caleb interjected.

Marie sighed. "Trust me, it's nothing good. I got a shitty grade on the pre-assignment and he just wanted to talk to me about it."

Marie decided to omit the part about her rewritten extension.

"That sucks. He's seriously harsh for no reason. You got the rest of the semester to bring it up though. The midterm and final are worth like 50% of our grade." Marie smiled at Ashly, grateful for the genuine encouragement.

Caleb made his attempt. "I got a pretty good grade on mine so if you ever need help, you can always hit me up - "

"Oh, please, Caleb," Ashly retorted, catching the patronizing tone of Caleb's offer. Marie couldn't stifle her laugh.

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Well, I was about to ask if you two were free tonight and wanted to be on the list for my frat's party tonight."

Both Marie and Ashly's attention instantly perked up.

"Seriously?" Marie asked, already exhausted from a week of classes. She had consistently allowed herself one night per weekend to let loose, allotting the rest to studying.

"Hell yeah. I get a good rep with the brothers for bringing in hot girls so it's a win-win here."

"Well, first tell your brothers I won't be interested in them," Ashly replied, throwing a wink in Marie's direction. Marie gave her a quizzical look. "We'll be there."

"Sweet. Pre-game at my dorm at nine, I'll text my place in the GC." Caleb already had his phone pulled out. Marie smiled to herself, remembering the group chat name for the three of them.

dameron's deviants 😈

✥  ✥  ✥

Marie was content with her six-page extension to her last assignment. Was it the pinnacle of analytical literature? No. But it was genuine work and Marie felt she put considerable effort into it.

After sifting through cringe-y articles on past 50 Shades of Grey hype, Marie eventually found original academic literature on subjects ranging from Stockholm syndrome to gender and submissive behaviors. There was a genuine research and science to this - and without realizing it, she had selected some of her professor's own work. It only dawned on her as she created and edited her works cited.

Marie felt second thoughts and hesitation kick in, especially as she continued to proofread. It wasn't like she was turning in blatant erotica. Everything was formal, academic, no colloquial terminology, and formatted to APA perfection. Marie had delved into sexual deviancy, bringing up the topic of BDSM. She highlighted the section on her computer and felt the urge to delete it.

The young student never aligned herself with the BDSM community explicitly. For one, she felt too young - and extremely inexperienced. Marie dragged on a mundane relationship her freshman year of college which ended over a one-minute exchange via text, followed by a mediocre hookup that had her rushing back to her apartment to finish herself off. No one satisfied her.

Marie wanted her throat to be gripped with rage and arousal, a strong hand to muffle her screams as her hair was pulled back, her ass red from a belt, and brought to tears begging for release while shackled to a bed.

The man - the dominant - of her dreams would only remain there: in her dreams.

She'd have to settle. Sooner or later.

Marie printed her essay, stapled it, and set it down on her desk. Fuck it. Best case scenario, he reads it and brings her grade up. End of discussion. Worst case scenario, he reads it and reports her for inappropriate behavior.

The young student quickly glanced at her phone to check the time. It was approaching 7 PM. Effectively, she could get ready for the party in an hour, drop her assignment off at Professor Dameron's office, and meet with Ashly to go to Caleb's place.

Marie wasn't keen on looking like a hooker to her professor's office. With this in mind, she went over to her wardrobe to find something to wear for tonight.

After spending her teenage years overly self-conscious of her own body, Marie had pretty much settled on how she looked and gotten over it. Yes, she would love to look like an Instagram model with a snatched waist and a Godly bust and ass - but genetics were a stubborn thing.

Marie grabbed a short, black bodycon dress with two thin straps to hold it up. With a cropped jacket, it'll look presentable but without, it'll be provocative enough for a frat.

Marie first headed to the shower to quickly shave, despite having shaved the night before (again - genetics). She wasn't explicitly seeking out sex tonight, but if something interesting came along she wouldn't turn it down. After doing a lazy job with her razor, Marie slipped into a nude, strapless lingerie set that complimented her skin tone. Finally, the tight dress hugged her body and gave the shape of her body some definition.

Marie felt grateful for successfully affording her own studio apartment off-campus after working overtime the entire summer before. Not having a roommate had its blessings sometimes and dorms were a living hell for privacy. Although a bit small and dingy, it was near enough to campus to walk to classes and had all the basic necessities.

Marie made it home. She needed a home away from her parents.

Content with her look, Marie threw on a pair of platform black boots knowing she'd rather die than wear heels to a frat. She also tossed on a cropped, black denim jacket to add some modesty for her interaction with her professor.

Marie quickly applied some mascara and brushed up her defined brows, accentuating her dark, deep-set eyes. She applied smudges of concealer that matched her golden undertones to any imperfections on her skin. Marie used her hands to style her thick hair that mirrored the color of her eyes, letting it cascade freely off her shoulders.

There was a time Marie was adamant about always straightening her waves, but slowly she gained an appreciation for its natural state.

The final touch was a tinted lip balm that glistened on her rounded cupids bow and light highlighter to bring out her cheekbones against her angled jawline.

Marie sighed in front of her full-body mirror. And with that, she grabbed her typed-up assignment, phone, keys, and headed out - not knowing what to expect for the night.