This is my new story, book 1 of a Lesson Learned. A bit dubious-consensual. All characters are 18 or older.
Chapter 1
Rachel Wilson
"Richmond, what can you tell me about classical conditioning and how it differs from operant conditioning?" I ask as I stand in front of the classroom.
"Uh... Well... Classical is classic. And operant well, it's... you have to operate it obviously," He gets a collective chuckle from his classmates.
I let out a sigh. He might be hot with that dark chocolate skin of his along with the way his shirt barely stretches over his thick muscles, and of course, he is also the star basketball player, but he's not too bright. "Maybe, Richmond, if you would've read the text, you'd realize that Classical conditioning, also known as Pavolovian conditioning, named after the man who discovered it, is based on pairing an unconditioned stimulus with a conditioned stimulus to get a conditioned response. Think of the dog salivating when it hears the bell just before the food is delivered. The bell was the unconditioned stimuli, the food is the conditioned stimuli. The dog salivating, is the conditioned response. The dog salivates when the food is present. However, if you pair the food with the bell, the dog will eventually salivate from the bell alone. Got it? Good."
I take a moment to catch my breath as I glare at Richmond. Students like him make my job difficult. "Now, Operant conditioning is discovered by Skinner, who also created the Skinner box, a device you use to train rats. He discovered that positive reinforcing a behavior will make the rat more likely to do that behavior in the future. Likewise, a negative punishment will decrease the chances of the rat performing that behavior in the future. How else can you decrease the probability a rat will perform a specific behavior, Richmond?"
"Uhhh... Not rewarding it?" he asks.
"Wow, you actually got it correct. What are the odds? I'm assuming it was mere chance and not because you read the text book and learned the material. Can you tell me what the term is when you decrease the probability that the rat will perform the behavior after you stop reinforcing that behavior?"
"Uhh... no idea."
"Of course you don't know because you didn't read the material. How do you expect to pass this class if you don't do the work? That goes for all of you. This isn't rocket science. It's behavioral psychology. It's not hard. You just have to do the work. Now class will be dismissed, but I swear, if you don't put in the work and read the assigned material and do the worksheets, you'll fail this class. I will have a quiz next class, so come prepared," I say as they all rush out of class. I swear it's like trying to teach pigs how to fly. It's not even that I think kids like Richmond are stupid. He's just so damn lazy. I know I can teach anyone how to learn almost anything. But god damn it, they have to stop being such lazy little shits. It's so frustrating.
On my way out into the hall, I run into Kayson, another adjunct professor. Only he's a bit of a simp with no backbone. Even though Richmond is a lazy student, at least he's not a simp. I have no time for a sissy like Kayson. Some students have even taken to calling him Gayson Kayson. I find homophobic slurs distasteful, but at the same time, I hate to admit that I enjoy watching him humiliated. You'd think a psychology professor like myself, regardless on whether I'm an adjunct or not, would be more tolerant. But it's just the way Kayson bends over backwards to everyone who tells him to. Before I even realize it, I say the nickname outloud, giggling. My face burns with shame after I pass him. I can't believe I just did that.
After I finish my last class of the day, I finally head back to my crappy apartment. An adjunct salary is not worth the headache of trying to teach this generation of lazy, entitled brats. I pour myself a glass of wine and make myself a bubble bath. Fuck my lfie. Sometimes, I regret chasing my goals. If I would've done what my parents wanted, I'd still have access to their money.
But even still, there's no way I'd ever become a senator. Politics infuriates me and that's not even the worst of what they wanted of me. There's no way in hell I'd ever marry the man they wanted me to. He's a complete idiot. He's weak and pathetic. The only good thing about him is his family name and his inheritance. That's the only reason they want me to marry him in the first place. I'd rather be broke and die alone.
I want to become successful in my own right because of my actions and my achievements. I want to prove that I'm not just a pretty face, but that I can achieve success because of my hard work and intelligence. I want to publish my own research and become well renowned in my field.
Not only that, but I want to be with a man who's also ambitious. A dominant man who takes what they want and doesn't apologize. I know it's fucked up, but I want a man who'll make me his. Who'll dominate me and make me submit to him. But still support me in my own endeavors. An alpha, not some beta bitch, like Anthony. He's a total mommy's boy and a spoiled brat at that. Not that I have anything to talk about. I'll admit I've been spoiled my whole life, but not anymore. My parents cut me off and I don't need their money.
Someone like Richmond. He seems like a total idiot in class, but I've seen him play basketball. He's dominant on the court. An alpha. I've also noticed how hard he works at it. He's in the gym all the time. I've seen him while I workout. He's dedicated to becoming a successful basketball star. Too bad he doesn't put that much time into psychology and too bad he's my student.
Chapter 2
Richmond Holloway
After catching the past, I pull up and hit a three pointer. Nothing but net. Back on defense, Gregg tries to force a pass to Derek, but I get my hand on it and knock it away. I dive for the ball and grab it before passing it up to Evan. He passes it down to Hakeem who slams it down. Coach blows the whistle. "Great practice. Let's continue this momentum through the preseason into our games and we'll be unstoppable. Rich, that's how you do it. Great defense and way to hustle for the loose ball. You all hit the showers and get some rest."
After practice, I post a video to my social media accounts before I head over to my fraternity and collapse on the couch. I'm too exhausted to do anything else. Thank god athletes can make money like this now. My social media accounts have blown up and I'm starting to make bank. It's so easy too. I just have someone film my practices and clip out some of my dunks and shit then post them on all my social media accounts. Then put in some affiliate links where I buy my shoes, gear and even some merchandise I've made up with custom made jerseys and shit. People buy that shit up.
"Bro, did you check out the board of conquest?" Freddie Cox asks.
"Who's bragging this time?" I ask as I pull up my phone and pull up our private forum. Not surprised to see Payton posted some obnoxious brag, claiming he got some chick to do anal. The conquest board has always seemed a bit sleezy to me. Maybe I'm just not the type of guy to brag about the women I sleep with. I also don't really care to sleep around all that much. I only joined this fraternity because they claimed to have a huge network of alumni and it's a forsure way to secure a job after college. I needed a backup plan if I don't go pro. But after joining, I realized very quickly it's just a clubhouse for guys who just want to sleep around and drink too much.
I don't drink much and I don't care to bag women. Their phrase, not mine. I'm not about that life. I just want to get my own life on track. I'm here for a reason and I'm not here to fuck around.
"Dude, I'm pretty sure he's talking about that freshman girl I saw him with last weekend. Remember that rager we threw? What a fucking party. She looked like a total slut. Lucky guy."
