An Odd Lesson

Dr. Rues vigorously waved his hand in front of Amy's face. The zoned-out student snapped back to reality.

"I said, 'you may take a seat,'" her professor stated while gesturing to the rows of other students. For a moment Amy looked at him, expecting to be released, but the doctor just stared back at her with his usual scowl. Reflexively letting out a quiet squeak like a startled mouse, Amy retreated from his gaze.

The bound arts student sat in an empty chair on the far right of the front row, hoping to be as non-disruptive as possible. All the same, she felt like everyone watched her struggle to open her book satchel. The wide nature of the fiddle made her right hand pretty much useless; fortunately, Amy favored her left hand which was locked further forward and able to at least reach the clasp. The bound student still had to double over her bag to open it. The flap refused to stay open however, so she ended up flipping the uncooperative square of fabric into her mouth to hold it between her teeth while she grunted and tugged her notebook out.

The professor seemed to have already started his lecture. He talked about the beginnings of cubism, but this soon devolved into a tirade about there being too many artists these days. In his usual fiery way Dr. Rues exclaimed to his students that they'd need to find some sort of gimmick or prance around for the rich and famous if they had any hope of making a modest career in the fine arts. Amy tried to keep up and take notes during the half-hour rant, but it was very difficult with the fiddle in the way, especially as he rapidly spat out ridiculous suggestions. She had to stand out of her seat and bend over the table. The shapely student felt the hem of her dress creep up her thigh. In this awkward position, it was likely her peers could see her panties, but they would certainly only be paying attention to the professor. That being said, her cheeks grew a few shades redder, as she imagined the classroom of students ogling her nearly naked behind.

The hot-headed professor's tangent ended with a huff and he abruptly shifted gears back to the series of paintings he was showing. He spent a fair amount of time on his third example of cubism. It was titled "bound by the crown." It showed a princess that was an amalgamation of several members of the English royal family presiding over her subjects. Dr. Rues described it as English propaganda but admitted the artistic piece did effectively display the restrictive expectations of individuals in power, especially for those that care about their subjects.

Amy, however, caught herself forming a different interpretation. The woman in the abstract painting had her limbs spread, and with the chains scattered about the canvas, it wasn't heard to imagine her held in such a position by bondage. The naive student squirmed with embarrassment at her own lustful thoughts. The circle of subjects depicted surrounding the princess and ready to fulfill her every need or desire made it all the harder for Amy to not interpret the painting in a dirty way. The young coed inhaled audibly and pressed her thighs together as she desperately tried to pull away from her own perverted thoughts.

Dr. Rues finished his explanation of the painting, and class was over soon after. The students slowly meandered out of the room as Amy worked up the courage to approach her professor. She couldn't very well spend all day locked in this contraption after all; that'd be ridiculous. It still took her twice as long as it should have to make her way to hot-blooded teacher.

"Miss Best," he addressed Amy while she awkwardly tried to think of how to ask for the fiddle to be removed. "Did you enjoy ze lecture?"

"Yeah, I had a bit of trouble taking notes," the restrained student said sheepishly. "But I guess I got more than if I'd been stuck outside." She **** a laugh.

"Truly exquisite," exclaimed a voice behind Amy. The nervous student spun to see another of her professors, Dr. Glade. The slender woman had dressed up more than usual, wearing a tailored suit. She stepped closer and lovingly caressed the wood encircling Amy's neck with her fingers. "My compliments Dr. Rues."

"Such wonderful curves." This comment came from a third of Amy's professors. He had gotten quite close without the startled girl noticing him, and was able to strum his fingers across the fiddle as well.

"Amy, would you be so kind as to draw a sketch for us?" suggested yet another member of faculty while handing the surrounded student paper and pencil.

A heady mixture of dizzy and bewildered, Amy gingerly placed the sheet of paper on the desk, then awkwardly passed the pencil from her right to her left hand. The fiddle **** her to carefully calculate every action. But even when she was finally ready to start the arts student hesitated.

"If you need inspiration," offered Dr. Glade, "may I suggest a pose. Try to capture the essence of kneeling."

A poor peasant, captured and kneeling was the first thought Amy had. She did her best to suppress it, but with all the tenured teachers circling her and giving her such scrutinizing gaze, it was hard not to feel like she was on trial. The naive student knew it was only the antique binding her that interested them so, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that they were undressing her with their eyes. Amy consciously took control of her breath as, much to her own surprise, the idea of been forcible exposed was darkly appealing.

The young woman's situation was in quite a sticky not just mentally but physically as well. When she finally decided on the one-knee pose of a kneeling knight (a chaste image to keep her focused), she still had to figure out how to work around her bondage. In the plush embrace of the fiddle, delicate work was still possible, but the broad circles and lines she needed for her outline came out clumsy. No matter how she swung her body or tilted her shoulders the ridged boards around her neck and wrists would not allow her to draw a smooth curve. The poor students ears burned when she thought she heard dismissive tutting behind her. Amy felt quite embarrassed knowing a majority of the arts faculty was watching her silly attempts.

Or was it something else? the floundering young woman thought mortified. Had she accidentally flashed her panties to these respectable teachers while shifting her hips to get a better angle. Hunched over the table as she was, it seemed quite possible the professors had caught a glimpse of her blue and white underwear. This prospect was all the more terrifying because Amy could distinctly feel a wet spot caused by her previous flights of fancy. Cheeks burning, the student was much more careful with her movements going forward.

Amy felt much more confident that she didn't wag her unmentionables in front of the dignified people idly chatting around her, but her sketch suffered as a result. Even picking up her sketch was difficult. Amy made several fumbling attempts before she was able to pinch one corner of the paper and show it to her professors. The talented student would have looked at her shoes if the sturdy fiddle wasn't forcing her chin up; instead, she had to content herself by avoiding eye-contact with her critics.

Amy was certain the accomplished expects would burst into laughter, but all she heard was a muddled murmuring and a resigned sigh from Dr. Rues. The confused woman looked around for an explanation.

Mr. Brighouse, who taught her introduction to poetry provided one. "The fiddle is a metaphor," he lectured with a somewhat condescending tone. "It represents the rigid structure of classes that can, in some cases, disrupt natural talent."

A tweed-suited gentleman that Amy hadn't met before added, "Two of my students mentioned they had made you late for class when you helped them with a project."

"The upshot is," interrupted a much more stylishly dressed British woman who couldn't have been more than a few years older than Amy, "we've decided to exempt you from standard attendance requirements as long as you devote your time to worthwhile pursuits."

"You will be able to come and go as you please," agreed Dr. Rues through gritted teeth.

"But you will have to accept the consequences should your grades suffer," countered Dr. Glade ominously as the professors started to disperse.

Amy was released from her wooden bondage soon after and wandered out of the room not quite sure what to make of her new freedom.