Melinda stood with her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her feet together.
"It's about your lecture, Dr Flesher," she explained. "I was just wondering..." Her voice faltered as she noticed the handcuffs. For a second she thought she must have mistaken her eyes, but no: coiled around the bottom of his pen holder - they were definitely handcuffs.
"Well?" Dr Flesher asked. "What was it that you were... wondering?" Catching the direction of her eyes, he drawled, "You haven't noticed the whip yet, either." He smiled again. "There's a reason they call this the Dungeon."
Melinda laughed uncertainly, a noise that stopped suddenly as her lecturer reached a hand up to a high shelf and pulled down what was definitely, undeniably, a whip.
"Oh." The word was almost soundless.
"A useful tool for dealing with recalcitrant students," he explained, his tone such that Melinda couldn't be quite sure that he was joking. "The one lesson they don't forget. Are you certain that you wanted to ask me something?"
Melinda looked at the handcuffs for a second before her eyes settled on the thick leather whip in his hands. She watched him caressing it with breathless fascination. He wouldn't really... would he? Her mind spun on, and she imagined what it might be like if he followed through on his suggestions. She could almost feel the whip flicking against her body as she stood, her hands twisting together nervously. Where would he beat her? Her back? Her legs? Her (her heart beat faster) arse? Would he fasten those cuffs in front of her or behind her? Fasten her to the wall or leave her loose? Would he thrash her through her robes or make her undress in front of him, so that he could leave marks on her skin?