Chapter 2: The Practical Application

Elias finished the description of the Dogeza, the required historical ritual of severe deference. He kept the dry-erase marker poised over the whiteboard, the diagram of the kneeling figure serving as a stark visual reference now. The detail he provided about the forehead needing to be pressed flat to the floor in complete surrender was ringing in Ariana’s ears. She knew this was not just about the history of female submission anymore, but about forcing her into a demonstrably submissive posture herself.

He delivered one final, severe look at Ariana, ensuring the full weight of the assignment settled on her. Her seven minutes of tardiness had been neutralized by the forced apology, but that moment of failure had clearly marked her as the perfect candidate for this initial, highly public demonstration of compliance. The gaze was ice-cold, devoid of any curiosity about whether she could handle it, betraying only the expectation that she would, in fact, handle it perfectly.

Elias concluded without soliciting questions from any student, which was a clear indication that discussion was unnecessary. He did not invite commentary, and he certainly did not invite debate on the assignment’s unusual nature or the specific historical context. His movements were precise, returning the marker to the tray and squaring the stack of academic journals on his desk. The gesture signaled an immediate end to the session.

Lucas and Jordan responded instantly to the unspoken dismissal. They gathered their personal materials quickly, operating with the practiced efficiency of people who knew exactly how Professor Elias’s classroom functioned. Lucas shoved his leather-bound notebook into a sleek backpack. Jordan merely stacked his papers into an ordered pile and slid them into a thin briefcase. Their movements were economical.

Lucas and Jordan exchanged a brief, knowing glance before casually exiting the classroom ahead of Ariana. The glance was fast, but Ariana saw it clearly. It was a silent acknowledgment, a conspiratorial sort of agreement passing between them. That shared look suggested they knew something she did not. It also confirmed their status as observers and judges in this enforced disciplinary structure. They were definitely moving as a unit, and she was already marginalized from it.

Ariana rapidly gathered her own notebooks and pencils. Her hands were slightly unsteady, making the movement feel frantic and clumsy. The pencils rolled slightly on the polished mahogany tabletop, threatening to fall, and she quickly snatched them up. She felt an immense pressure to evacuate the formal room immediately, to escape the recent tension that hung heavily in the air. The heavy door suddenly seemed too far away, and she wanted to cross that threshold and find the relative anonymity of the hallway.

She felt acutely exposed as she moved, aware that both Lucas and Jordan had already left and that Elias was still present, likely observing her hurried escape. She did not look at him, keeping her eyes scanning toward the door like a nervous animal heading for cover. She was eager to put physical distance between herself and the consequences of her tardiness, the lingering sting of the forced apology, and the looming reality of the Dogeza assignment.

Ariana finally reached the classroom door, easing it open just enough to slip out. She hurried into the empty hall, which felt infinitely more welcoming now than the confining space of Room 401. The silence of the abandoned academic wing was suddenly a small comfort. It was a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere she had just left.

She navigated the empty halls toward the main building exit, walking quickly and alone. Her sneakers made a faint squeak on the linoleum, a sound she usually hated, but now it was just a small, insignificant note in her head. She intentionally kept her pace high, putting one foot in front of the other, focusing on the simple, repetitive motion. This physical activity was somehow a poor attempt to mentally distance herself from the entire experience.

Ariana tried to process the last forty minutes. The forced apology still made her wince internally, and the Dogeza assignment was a heavy, cold weight. She kept replaying Elias’s voice, the clinical precision of his instructions, and the way he had singled her out. She told herself that the ritual was only an academic exercise, a historical performance, but the professor’s tone had made it clear that this performance was about power and her compliance. That was the disturbing line: theory becoming completely personal, immediately personal.

She reached the intersection where the quiet corridor met the wider, more populated main hallway. She took a sharp left, feeling a small, momentary relief as she joined the flow of other students. The main building was bustling with activity, a chaotic mix of normal college life. She realized her heart was still beating too fast. She needed to get some fresh air.

As Ariana pushed through the heavy front doors—the main entrance to the entire college building, opening onto the sprawling central lawn—she felt the sudden rush of cool autumn air. That minor change in temperature was nice. She was already several steps down onto the concrete walk when her eyes registered the presence of another person.

Lucas was waiting only several yards away from the main entrance. He was standing near a low stone bench, conspicuously stationed there. He looked entirely relaxed, leaning against the cold stone, holding his backpack loosely by one strap. He checked his phone and then put it away with a casual movement. He did not look like someone waiting impatiently. He looked like someone waiting entirely on purpose, expecting something or perhaps someone.

He was dressed in a dark, high-quality jacket and expensive jeans, looking every bit the campus golden boy the rumors described. Ariana’s internal alarm bells immediately went off. Lucas noticing her, Lucas waiting: the two things rarely happened at the same time, because Lucas was always where the activity was, never waiting in a quiet, isolated spot after class.

Lucas spotted her. His gaze lifted from his brief contemplation of the sky and landed directly on her now. He advanced without haste, a slow, deliberate movement that conveyed a sense of complete control. He did not rush, taking his time to cover the short distance between them. The slight pause, the intentional delay, made his approach feel more significant, more targeted.

He adopted an expression of bored superiority, the kind of facial arrangement that suggested whatever he was about to say or do was beneath his considerable notice but necessary nonetheless. That expression amplified the distance between them, reminding Ariana of the implicit hierarchy they were supposed to maintain. He was the confident senior; she was the nervous freshman.

Lucas stopped directly in front of her, managing to block her path entirely without seeming to exert any effort. Ariana was forced to halt her walking abruptly, needing to avoid a direct collision now. The few feet of pavement suddenly felt like the center of an unwanted stage.

She looked up at him, feeling the familiar prickle of anxiety returning, the stress she had just tried to outrun. Lucas was taller than her, and his eyes had a sharpness that always made her feel observed.

Lucas spoke, his voice low, casual, yet possessing a definite edge of authority. It was the tone of someone who expected his words to be treated as instructions, even outside of Elias’s direct supervision.

“Vesper,” he started, using her surname only, a slight inflection that sounded almost dismissive. He was asserting their relationship immediately, emphasizing the power differential.

Ariana waited wordlessly, knowing any unnecessary dialogue from her was likely unwelcome. Her eyes searched his face, wanting some clue about his purpose, but only found that expression of bored assurance.

“Jordan and I have been talking,” Lucas stated, then paused. The reference to Jordan solidified the alliance. They were a unified front, already acting together in their roles as the ‘upper-echelon’ students Elias had set up.

“We’ve made an executive decision regarding your class tardiness,” he continued, taking a slight step closer, forcing Ariana to stand perfectly still. “Seven minutes, as the professor explicitly stated, is a significant amount of the mandated class time.”

He emphasized the word executive, a clear reference to their position above her in the established hierarchy. Any decision made by them, in this context, carried the weight of disciplinary action.

“Jordan and I wasted time because of your inability to adhere to the most basic requirement of punctuality,” Lucas explained, his tone completely flat, devoid of real emotion but full of implied judgment. “We are not interested in wasting that much time again, especially considering the specialized nature of the studies in that classroom.”

He then delivered the punchline, the actual point of his waiting.

“You now owe us a mandatory ‘practice session’,” Lucas stated, articulating the phrase with a dry, matter-of-fact clarity. “This is to ensure that your execution of the Dogeza will be perfect for the next class.”

The request was an immediate, non-negotiable escalation of the classroom dynamics. It was not a suggestion or an offer to help. It was a command disguised as an educational requirement. Lucas was essentially extending Elias’s discipline outside the classroom walls, forcing her into an unscheduled session entirely for their benefit and oversight. The term 'practice session' was a thin veil over the true intent: they were going to observe and enforce her submission ritual privately.

Ariana heard the words, and a surge of internal dread immediately hit her fast. The thought of performing that absolute act of prostration in the presence of Lucas and Jordan, without the formal structure of Elias’s desk and the classroom setting, felt infinitely more intimidating. It removed the last possible slivers of academic distance she had clung to. This 'practice' was not about grade-boosting. It was about personal control.

She knew Lucas and Jordan were fully aware of what the Dogeza represented: total, visible surrender. They wanted to witness her submission outside the professor’s direct sight.

Despite the fear, she immediately recognized the demand for what it truly was. It was a new, higher form of required submission, an unofficial but absolutely mandatory requirement. Refusing Lucas, after the public humiliation of her tardiness and apology, would be seen as a direct challenge to the authority they shared with Elias, even if Lucas was only twenty-one and not the professor. Refusal would surely invite an extreme consequence within the small, intensely focused class hierarchy, potentially escalating the issue to Elias himself. She had already breached one simple rule; she absolutely could not breach a rule that challenged the established chain of command, no matter how self-appointed it was.

She could not afford to put her standing, however low it was, at any higher risk. She was trapped.

Ariana managed to confirm her reluctant agreement to attend the unofficial mandatory session. She delivered the confirmation by giving the slightest, nearly imperceptible nod to Lucas. It was a small movement of her chin, barely a gesture, but it transmitted compliance entirely. She did not trust her voice not to sound strained or pleading, and Lucas had already made it clear that additional protest was not welcomed. She just stood there, confirming his assessment of her required obedience.

Lucas accepted the small nod, not bothering to wait for a verbal affirmation. Her silent compliance was apparently enough. He affirmed his control by immediately providing firm instructions, taking charge of the logistics now.

“The university library,” Lucas stated, his eyes sweeping over her face to gauge her reaction, which she kept blank. “Private study room, B-7. It’s on the second floor, down the eastern corridor.”

He was specific, ensuring there could be absolutely no ambiguity about where she needed to be. He was dictating the time and place of her forced compliance, cementing his temporary authority over her schedule.

“You will meet us there in precisely twenty minutes,” he commanded, emphasizing the precise time limit. This was a challenge. Not only was she forced to comply, but she had to comply almost immediately. The short window made the demand stressfully urgent. It was designed to test her efficiency and willingness to drop everything else for their convenience.

“Twenty minutes,” Lucas repeated, just to make sure the time frame settled. “Don’t be late, Vesper. Not again.”

He did not elaborate on what would happen if she was late again, but the implication was sufficiently cold. The consequences would clearly be much worse than a simple public apology this time around. He demanded immediate compliance without question.

Lucas did not wait for this to sink in any further. He simply pushed off the stone bench, gave her one last sharp glance that held nothing but expectation, and walked away. He headed in the opposite direction from her dorms, moving with the easy, unhurried gait of someone completely confident in his position and the guaranteed submission of the person he had just instructed.

Ariana stood there, frozen on the pavement for several moments after Lucas left. The autumn air felt suddenly chillier now. The pressure to move was huge. Twenty minutes was not a lot of time, and she needed to navigate the large campus, walk to the library, and locate the specific private study room.

She immediately pulled out her phone, checking the time. It was four past the hour. She had sixteen minutes remaining, maybe less, given the walking time. She quickly pulled up the university map, trying to pinpoint the eastern corridor of the second floor of the main library building.

The library was a twenty-minute walk, maybe fifteen if she pushed it hard across the central lawn. She needed to start moving immediately. She adjusted her backpack and began moving again, adopting a pace that was just short of a full run. The sudden mandatory meeting felt like an iron collar tightening, forcing her to reorganize her entire world for the sake of two classmates who had only recently gained this strange, temporary authority over her.

What possible reason did they have for this other than simple, petty control? Elias had mandated the Dogeza for the next session, so observing a practice session now ensured her failure would be documented, or her compliance witnessed. It was purely about establishing her place in the hierarchy.

She hated the urgency, the feeling of being dictated to by Lucas, who was just a student and not a professor. But the cold logic was undeniable: if she failed to show up, or if she was late, Lucas and Jordan would absolutely report it to Professor Elias. They would be doing their duty, reinforcing the professor’s explicit rules about a required standard of behavior. That report to Elias would be catastrophic, likely resulting in immediate course failure or some far worse official scrutiny.

Ariana made it to the main library building in thirteen minutes, the fast walk leaving her breathing a little harder than usual. The library entrance was always busy, a chaotic mix of chatter and activity that quickly died down as she crossed the main threshold.

She moved directly to the central staircase, bypassing the information desk. The second floor was quieter, dedicated primarily to long rows of academic stacks and the cluster of private study rooms. She had only ever used the general reading areas, never one of the specialized rooms.

Her hurried pace slowed now as she tried to navigate the labyrinthine aisles. The fear of being late again felt far worse than the original fear of tardiness this morning. The first time was an accident caused by coffee; a second breach would be proof of insubordination.

She found the eastern corridor, which was narrower and much more sterile than the rest of the floor. It was lined with a series of heavy wooden doors, each marked with a small brass plaque indicating the room number. The carpet here was thick, silently swallowing the sound of her footsteps.

The numbers climbed: B-1, B-3, B-5.

She finally reached the heavy door marked ‘B-7’. She checked her watch. She was right on time, exactly nineteen minutes after Lucas had given his instruction. The precision felt like a minor victory in a day filled with loss of control.

Ariana raised her hand, hesitating for a moment before knocking. She took a quick, deep breath, reminding herself that this was just a quick, required performance, a painful necessity to maintain her tenuous standing in Elias’s class. She was only required to perform the motion. The motivation behind it did not matter.

She tentatively tapped on the solid wood door.

There was no verbal response, which was instantly unsettling. Instead, she heard a faint, distinct sound of movement from inside, followed by the specific, heavy click of an industrial lock being disengaged, usually found on public library study rooms.

The door was then pulled inward instantly. It was Jordan who opened it, not Lucas.

Jordan stood in the doorway, an imposing figure. He was dressed neatly, his expression still entirely unreadable, just as it had been in the classroom. He did not step aside immediately the moment she stood there, forcing her to face his intense scrutiny. He looked directly into her eyes for a long moment, a silent assessment that felt like he was evaluating a specimen. There was no greeting, no acknowledgement of the time.

Ariana managed to step inside the room, moving quickly past Jordan to put some space between them. The study room was small, containing only one large rectangular table and four simple, heavy chairs. Lucas was already seated at the table, his posture relaxed, his hands resting flat on the polished surface of the wood. His dark backpack was on the floor by his chair.

As soon as she was fully inside, moving only a single step toward the center of the small room, Jordan pivoted on his heel. He did not face her again. Instead, he reached out with one hand and sharply locked the door from the inside.

The sound of the mechanism engaging was completely isolated in the small, enclosed space. It was a loud, definitive clack of cold metal against metal. The sound sealed her inside completely.