The Pervert

As the main class choices settled, the students dispersed towards the various booths set up by senior students, each promoting side classes with enthusiastic pitches and demonstrations. Sakar's eyes quickly spotted a booth surrounded by a lively group of students—particularly attractive ladies clad in swimwear for the swimming class. Without a moment's hesitation, he joined the growing line, his reasons more aligned with his personal interests than any academic pursuit.

Kepyun, whose dedication to physical fitness was unmatched, found himself drawn to the gymnastics booth. The promise of enhancing his flexibility and strength was too good to pass up. He envisioned the rigorous routines that would push his muscular endurance to new heights, and eagerly signed up.

Olga, attracting attention with her striking albino appearance, found herself surrounded by curious peers. Her naturally white hair sparked discussions, with several girls inquiring about the secret to such a distinctive color. Despite her assurances that it was her natural shade, skepticism lingered. Offers from various classes, including flower arrangement and botany, came her way, but she politely declined each. Her interest lay elsewhere, leading her to join the line for the literature class because she liked reading.

The trio decided against picking a second elective for now, opting to keep their schedules lighter for the first half of the year. Since it was allowed for the second to be chosen next semester.

The remainder of the day was filled with an orientation session led by senior students, who shared insights and tips about life at the academy. They covered everything from study habits to campus traditions, helping the new students feel more at home. With the formalities out of the way, the rest of the day was theirs to enjoy freely. The real work would begin tomorrow with the start of classes, marking the next chapter in their educational journeys.

***

The first week at the academy flew by in a flurry of activities and classes. Sakar was diligently attending his shaman class and enthusiastically showing up for swimming, where he managed to mingle and make a few new friends among his classmates. The casual and relaxed environment of the swimming class contrasted sharply with the more solemn and challenging atmosphere of the shaman class, where his efforts to connect with spirits had so far been fruitless.

Despite the setbacks in the shaman class, Sakar didn't let disappointment dampen his spirits. Olga, however, maintained her distance, interacting minimally with him, if at all. Their attempts to approach and communicate with the earth and water spirits ended without success, as both spirits seemed uninterested in forming a contract with Sakar. This lack of connection didn't surprise him much; he was aware of his unique condition—his apparent soullessness—a trait that likely made him less appealing to the spirits.

Nonetheless, Sakar held onto a thread of hope. The world was vast, and it was populated with a multitude of spirits, each with their own quirks and preferences. Olga's successful contract with a wind spirit served as a constant reminder of the possibilities that lay ahead. He was convinced that somewhere out there was a spirit who would see past his unusual nature and choose to ally with him. His journey to find that spirit was just beginning, and he was prepared to face as many rejections as it took to find his match.

***

As the sun started to rise, the sounds of the early risers began to echo through the hallways. Sakar was already tucked inside the rusty locker, his heart thumping in his chest. The musty smell of old metal filled his nose as he tried to make as little noise as possible. The plan was simple, yet every small sound seemed amplified in the quiet of the morning.

Soon, the chatter and laughter of the swimming class students filled the changing room. The clatter of lockers opening and closing, the rustle of swim gear, and the occasional splash of water signaled that the practice was starting soon. From his cramped hideout, Sakar peered through the vents, catching glimpses of movement as students changed and talked amongst themselves.

Though he knew his actions were wrong, the thrill of the moment pushed away his guilt. Huddled in the dark, listening to the sounds of the changing room, Sakar felt a mix of excitement and dread. This secret observation was his guilty pleasure, one that he rationalized with the flawed logic of a young man led astray by his desires.

Sakar's plan had spiraled out of control quicker than he could blink. As he waited, the sound of laughter and chatter filled the air, but from his cramped hiding spot within the rusty locker, his view was limited. A sliver of space between the locker doors offered him a glimpse of the changing room, but it wasn't enough. Eager for a better look, he risked a slight adjustment, creaking the doors open just a hair wider.

His vantage improved, but still unsatisfied, Sakar pushed his luck, easing the doors open further. His head was barely noticeable, provided no one was directly looking his way. He watched, fixated as the girls slipped into their swimsuits, unaware of his prying eyes.

However, his precarious setup backfired dramatically. With a loud clang, Sakar's balance faltered, and he toppled forward, crashing onto the changing room floor. The sudden noise startled the girls into silence, followed quickly by gasps of shock and horror as they realized the intrusion.

"NEUTRALIZE HIM!" one of them shouted, a command that echoed with severity through the room.

Sakar's mind raced—'Neutralize' sounded far too harsh for getting caught, yet before he could react, a group of girls had swiftly pinned him down. Some were fighters, their grips iron-tight; others were shamans, their hands glowing with the beginnings of spells. He was utterly immobilized, yet embarrassingly content under the flurry of hands, albeit for the wrong reasons.

"LET'S TAKE HIM TO MISS SORELLA!" they decided in unison.

The girls swiftly neutralized Sakar and hauled him toward the principal's office—more dragging him than carrying. The scene as they burst into Miss Sorella's office was chaotic, the girls eager to voice their outrage. But Miss Sorella silenced them with a simple gesture and a stern look.

"I can see it already. I know what he did," she stated coolly, cutting through the noise without needing further explanation.

The campus was quiet, most students either engrossed in their own activities or still asleep in the early morning hours. However, Miss Sorella's next words shattered any semblance of calm.

"THERE IS AN URGENT MEETING IN FRONT OF THE PRINCIPAL BUILDING. YOU HAVE HALF AN HOUR. ANYONE NOT THERE WILL BE PUNISHED."

Her voice resonated not just through the office but seemingly through the minds of every student on campus. Those who were sleeping snapped awake, a sudden urgency propelling them from their beds. In the dorms, the newer students sensed a mild concern, but it was the seniors who truly understood the gravity of her summons—they scrambled to get ready, hastily advising the freshmen.

"You don't want to be punished! Believe me," they hurriedly cautioned, their quick preparations underscoring the seriousness of Miss Sorella's call to assemble.

The girls knocked him in no time and carried him to the principal building. Actually, it was more like dragged him.

When they entered the principal's office and the girls started to rant, Miss Sorella made a hand movement meaning 'stop talking' and she said: "I can see it already. I know what he did."

Every student was either doing their own things or sleeping in this early hour. But Miss Sorella didn't let them keep what they were doing.

"THERE IS AN URGENT MEETING IN FRONT OF THE PRINCIPAL BUILDING. YOU HAVE HALF HOUR. ANYONE NOT THERE WILL BE PUNISHED."

This was echoing in the mind of everyone. The students who were sleeping woke up. In the dorms, only the newbies were a little relaxed. The seniors were preparing in lighting speed. Some even warned the new students: "You don't want to be punished! Believe me."

As the students hurried to the designated meeting spot in front of the principal building, a buzz of nervous chatter filled the air. The tension was palpable, with every whisper and murmur adding to the growing unease. Nearby, the members of the swimming class, having quickly swapped their swimsuits for regular uniforms, huddled together, casting anxious glances around.

Positioned on an elevated patch of ground—a recent modification by Mr. Yuri at Miss Sorella's request—Sakar, still groggy and disheveled, stood beside the formidable principal and the group of girls who had dragged him here.

Miss Sorella, observing the restless crowd, decided it was time to assert control. Her voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the clamor:

"STOP TALKING!"

Her command wasn't just loud; it was supernaturally amplified, causing a jarring pain in the students' ears, akin to the agony of having a scream echo directly inside their skulls. The sudden, intense pain ensured immediate silence, quelling any further whispers. This wasn't merely a call to order; it felt more like a warning, making it clear that defiance would not be tolerated.

In that stark, sudden quiet, Sakar jolted awake, his senses snapping back as he processed the sea of silent, attentive faces turned towards the elevated platform. The severity of the situation began to dawn on him as he stood, exposed and uneasy, under the watchful eyes of Miss Sorella and the entire student body.

Miss Sorella gestured towards Sakar, her voice echoing through the assembled crowd.

"This individual has sexually harassed his fellow students," she announced, ensuring every eye was focused on him. "I've gathered you all here not just to recognize his face but to understand the consequences of such behavior in our academy."

She continued, stern and authoritative, "While we do not welcome criminals, expulsion is not our method. We believe encountering and overcoming such challenges is crucial for your growth. This academy is about learning to navigate complex social dynamics."

She then addressed the seniors, who were familiar with her methods, "Many of you know my reputation for discipline. I've yet to meet a student who cannot be corrected under my guidance. Therefore, the punishment for this transgressor will be decided by those he has wronged."

Turning her attention back to the group of girls, she asked, "What do you propose as a suitable punishment?"

Under the weight of the moment, and unaware of the depth of Miss Sorella's capabilities, the girls conferred hurriedly before coming to a consensus.

"We want him barred from the swimming class and publicly spanked," one of them said, her voice a mix of anger and resolve.

Miss Sorella nodded, processing their request. "The exclusion from the swimming class will be enforced immediately. As for the spanking, it will be executed in a manner that maintains our standards of respect and dignity."

The girls paused, a murmur of agreement passing among them, before adding, "We'd prefer if it were at least half-naked—to ensure the lesson is impressively humiliating."

"This is possible." Miss Sorella replied.

Sakar was still reeling from the reality of his predicament. As the implications of Miss Sorella's words sank in, panic gripped him, his mind racing for any possible escape or loophole.

"HEY! I OFFENDED THEM, THEY SHOULD BE THE ONES TO SPANK ME!" he blurted out, attempting to shift the punishment or perhaps lessen its severity.

Miss Sorella's gaze was piercing as she turned towards him. "Do you believe that makes you clever?" she asked, her tone loaded with disapproval.

Realizing the gravity of his situation, Sakar's defiance crumbled. He could see there was no clever twist or turn that could save him now.

"I will administer the punishment myself, in front of everyone," Miss Sorella declared, her voice resonating with finality across the gathering.

The crowd murmured, some out of anticipation, others from a mix of shock and approval. Sakar stood there, understanding fully now that there was no way out and that his actions had finally caught up with him in the most public and humiliating way possible.

As Miss Sorella spoke, she waved her hand, and Sakar, to the shock of all watching, began to levitate. His clothes seemed to unbutton and unzip themselves, leaving him in just his underwear. Mr. Yuri responded by shaping a chair out of the earth beneath them, which Miss Sorella gracefully sat upon. She then maneuvered the floating Sakar across her lap, positioning him perfectly for the punishment.

She lifted her hand and delivered the first spank. It landed softly, barely making a sound, seemingly gentle. But the deceptive nature of the punishment became clear when, after a tense three-second delay, Sakar's agonized scream tore through the silence. The pain was clearly beyond physical, tapping into something far deeper.

Onlookers, especially the newer students, whispered among themselves, some skeptical of the severity, suspecting an act. However, their doubts were quickly dispelled.

Miss Sorella's hand rose again, descending with a controlled force for a second spank. This time, Sakar's scream was not just loud but distorted, a sound of pure torment that resonated unsettlingly with the crowd. His voice wavered, strained by the intensity of the pain.

With the third and final spank, the culmination of his ordeal, Sakar's consciousness gave way. He slumped, utterly overwhelmed, passing out from the sheer intensity of the experience.

The crowd was silent, the earlier murmurings replaced by a heavy quiet, each person processing the stark demonstration of discipline and the mysterious, painful power Miss Sorella wielded so effectively.

Miss Sorella paused, her hand raised, ready for another strike. Despite Sakar being unconscious, she was not yet satisfied. "He passed out, but three is not enough," she murmured, almost to herself. The next spank landed, and Sakar woke up, screaming again. Unable to move, pinned down by invisible forces, he was helpless as the fifth spank made him start to foam at the mouth.

On stage, the mood among the girls shifted from satisfaction to concern as they witnessed the foam. Their initial appetite for justice was waning rapidly in the face of the harsh punishment. After the fifth spank, they exchanged troubled looks, no longer able to watch the spectacle without feeling disturbed.

"Miss Sorella, isn't it enough?" one of the girls finally spoke up, her voice carrying a mix of pity and distress.

Miss Sorella, about to deliver a sixth strike, paused, her hand frozen mid-air. She considered the question for a moment, her expression unreadable. "But he hasn't vomited blood nor lost his voice permanently," she replied calmly, her tone suggesting these were the real indicators of a punishment fully served.

The girls glanced at one another uneasily. This response from Miss Sorella brought home the severity of her approach to discipline, stirring a complex blend of fear and respect. The reality of the punishment was harsher than any of them had expected, and they struggled with their feelings about it. As they hesitated, uncertain if they should push for mercy, Miss Sorella lowered her hand, giving them a moment to contemplate the gravity of the situation.

Miss Sorella's words carried a casual, almost routine tone as she discussed a punishment that seemed excessively harsh to the onlookers. The students in the crowd felt a collective shiver, realizing the level of severity Miss Sorella deemed normal for discipline.

"We think it is enough."

"So you think a pervert such as him would not deserve such punishments?"

"Of course a pervert such as him deserves it."

"OK, then."

Like a judge delivering a verdict without a flicker of doubt, she raised her hand again, ready for the sixth spank. The impact was so severe that Sakar screamed—a sound so piercing that blood mixed with the foam at his mouth. The students, especially the girls who had initially called for this punishment, turned away, unable to watch any longer.

"Please stop! He is going to die," one of them cried out, her voice choked with horror.

"But you said yourself that a pervert such as him deserves it," Miss Sorella responded, her tone unyielding.

"We forgive him. Could you please stop?" another pleaded, desperation coloring her plea.

"Very well, if the offended parties request it," Miss Sorella conceded. With an efficient motion, she tossed Sakar to a corner of the stage, treating him as little more than an object. She then stood, smoothing her robes, her demeanor as calm as if she had merely been conducting a routine lecture.

"Don't engage in such behavior again," she admonished the battered figure of Sakar. Turning to the assembled students, she announced, "Now, everyone may leave."

Her commands were obeyed immediately, with the students dispersing quickly, the atmosphere heavy with the echoes of what had just transpired. Sakar, left in the corner, was a stark reminder of the consequences awaiting those who crossed the lines set by Miss Sorella.