Her gray suit, while not unduly expensive, was immaculately tailored. With her long hair in a tight bun behind her head and her nails professionally manicured, Tori held the fervent hope that she looked older than her twenty-four years. Sitting outside the Master's office, however, she still felt like a child awaiting an unknown punishment, rather than an adult being interviewed for a teaching position.

In part, of course, this was because she was awaiting punishment. Teachers in this ivy-covered academy were expected to administer corporal punishment on occasion, and could not be considered until they had received six strokes of the cane themselves without crying out.

The door at last opened, and a tall man with silver hair called her into his study. This was Dr. Marshall. She recognized him from his picture on the back of her university textbooks.

"Miss Boswell," he began, "Your academic credentials are impeccable, or you would never have reached this stage. Today, we shall test your physical courage, shan't we?"

"Yes, Sir," she answered quietly.

"Then proceed."

"Head Master," Tori began as confidently as she could, "When a girl is sent to you, she must announce who has sent her and why. I was sent by the Williams Agency, to prove I can accept corporal punishment and am qualified to teach at this establishment."

"Correct. Next?"

"Next, she must state whether she has chosen corporal punishment. Today, I have no alternative, but for the record I choose to accept corporal punishment."

Dr. Marshall merely nodded.

"Then, Sir," she stood and began to tremble in earnest, "she must present herself for discipline." Unfastening her skirt, she let it pool at her feet. Tori shut her eyes, but pulled down her slip and knickers, bending her slim body across the heavy, polished desk.

After a long moment, she heard him rise and walk behind her. He said nothing. "Oh, my God," she thought, "get this over with so I can cover up my bum."

"You are certain, Miss Boswell? You have read the procedures and know you are free to leave?"

"Yes," she gritted.

"Very well." Following two test swishes in the air that made her jump, he proceeded to thrash her beautifully presented bottom. Her breathing became more ragged with each stroke, but she counted and thanked him, exactly as required in the manual, without ever crying out. When she finally stood, her eyes were wet, cheeks flushed, and hair askew, but she had withstood the test.

"Collect your things and good-bye," he said coldly.

Now her voice did break, and tears rolled. "But..."

He raised his hand. "I have no intention of accepting a teacher with such poor attention to detail." Tapping a framed copy of the charter with his cane, he instructed, "Kindly read Clause Two."

"Corporal punishment shall consist of six strokes of the cane," she read, confused.

"And the footnote?"

Her mouth opened, and with her face in her hands she fled from the room.

"Three on each hand."