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While Victor was busy adapting to his environment, Dena was becoming acclimated to the entirely different environment that the Scythian Academy had created for its female students. She, unlike Victor, did not have to be stripped and dragged to the Academy in a medal box. She was instead driven by her mother Cindy, who was every bit as eager to find out what awaited Dena at the Scythian Academy as Dena was.
The Academy was an extremely large, castle-like structure that could easily have been either a prison or a medieval fortress. Whatever it was, it certainly was not an ordinary school. Its grounds were surrounded by a 10-foot tall iron bar fence, with only one gate at the front. Cindy drove up to that gate, introduced herself to the female guard, and was immediately let through.
They were met at the front entrance by a handsome, well built man who was dressed in nothing but a pair of tight-fitting shorts, sandals, and a leather collar. Both Cindy and Dena were a bit startled by his bare chest, but they decided to pretend not to notice. After, as the old saying goes, "when in Rome . . ."
"Welcome to the Scythian Academy ma'am and ma'am. May I take your bags?" asked the man, in a much more humble tone than either Cindy or Dena were used to hearing from a man.
"Er, yeah . . . Dena's suitcase is in the back," replied Cindy. "Where do I park?" she asked.
"If you would leave your keys with me, ma'am, I will see that your car is taken care of."
"Er, thank you," said Cindy, as both she and her daughter stepped out of the car. Cindy was surprised. On her first visit to the Academy, nothing had been said to indicate that they would be providing such luxuries as valet service. Cindy dug through her purse for a tip.
"No ma'am," said the man quickly. "That won't be necessary. It is our pleasure to serve you."
Cindy and Dena walked into the building, and were greeted warmly by a tall, attractive woman sharply dressed in a black, leather business suit. "Why hello," she beamed, "welcome to the Scythian Academy. My name is Ms. Parker. We are SO glad to have you." She extended her hand to Cindy.
Cindy took it and replied politely, "Nice to meet you Ms. Parker. I am Cindy Johnson, and this is my daughter Dena."
"Of course," replied Ms. Parker, "I hear we can expect great things from you. Let me show you around."
Dena and Ms. Parker went together to the punch bowl, where Dena said politely to the servant standing at the bowl, "One glass of punch, please." The man moved to comply with Dena's request, but as he did so he noticed Dena's well developed figure, and his eyes lingered on her breasts for several seconds. The bulge in his shorts was growing noticeably. Dena had learned to expect to this sort of treatment from men, even if she was a bit annoyed by it. She did not, however, expect what happened next. The man was so thoroughly distracted by Dena's feminine attributes that as he spilled punch all over her blouse.
Ms. Parker look outraged. "How DARE you Jordan!" she snapped. "What could POSSIBLY have given you the idea that you are PERMITTED to THROW DRINKS at the students?"
Jordan took two steps back, with a look of terror on his face, as if he expected Ms. Parker to take a swing at him. "I . . . er . . . er. . . I'm sorry ma'am. It was an accident, I swear . . .it's just . . . er . . . .er . . . " he stammered.
"It's just what, Jordan?" asked Ms. Parker icely.
"I was just . . . er . . . er . . . er . . . "
"Just STARING at Dena's BREASTS, perhaps? Just OGGLING the students? LUSTING after our guests?" Ms. Parker stared meaningfully at the highly visible bulge in Jordan's shorts.
Jordan dropped to his knees and began begging. "Please! I'm sorry ma'am! I beg you!"
Ms. Parker ignored Jordan's pleading and said calmly, as if she were a judge passing sentence, "get Paddle number 4."
Jordan's eyes grew wide.
"Do it NOW!"
Jordan left, and another male servant quickly took his place at the punch bowl. Ms. Parker turned to Dena who, having witnessed the scene, had a quizzical look on her face.
"You have probably noticed by now that males, when left to their own devices, have certain self-destructive tendencies. Perhaps the most self-destructive of these tendencies is the fact that the mere presence of a young, attractive woman will cause them to act like bumbling fools," said Ms. Parker.
Dena nodded. She certainly had noticed that, in boys and men alike.
"Our servants here are well trained," said Ms. Parker, "but even with training they occasionally slip up. Like just now; Jordan was given the simple task of serving punch, but even that proved too much for him once he found himself in the presence of a superior beauty such as yourself. He couldn't function. Yet, here at Scythian we do our best to keep our males functioning despite their weakness."
Jordan returned, and humbly handed a large paddle to Ms. Parker. Ms. Parker handed it to Dena.
"It is every woman's duty to help the men around her be good, functioning members of society," said Ms. Parker. "The men in your life, whoever they may be, need your guidance. Jordan needs your guidance."
"You want me to spank him?" asked Dena, as she accepted the paddle from Ms. Parker.
"I want you to correct him," replied Ms. Parker. "You will find that the only truly effective way to correct a male -- to teach a male -- is with classic conditioning. Good behavior must be rewarded, but more important, unacceptable behavior must be punished. I would say that what Jordan just did is unacceptable, wouldn't you agree?"
"Of course," replied Dena.
"Then it if your duty to correct him, for his own good. Give him ten swats with the paddle. That should be enough to teach him to keep his eyes on his work."
"Assume the position," ordered Ms. Parker. Jordan removed his shorts, folded them neatly and placed them on the ground in front of him. He then bent over and exposed his bare bottom to Dena. Dena swung the paddle, and lightly grazed Jordan's ass.
"No, no, no, that doesn't count," said Ms. Parker. "You have to make him FEEL it, otherwise you can never hope to train him. Try again."
Dena tried again, and struck Jordan's ass slightly harder.
"That just won't do," said Ms. Parker. "Look, have you ever played baseball?"
"Softball," replied Dena, wondering what the relevance was.
"Well, I want you to pretend you're swinging at the ball, and I want you to hit a home run."
Dena nodded, took her stance, and swung.
"One," said Jordan, through clenched teeth. He had been painstakingly trained not to shout out.
"Two," said Jordan, when Dena struck again.
"Three," came moments later.
"Four."
"Five."
"Six."
"Seven."
"Eight."
"Nine."
"Ten."
"Very good," said Ms. Parker to Dena. "And what do we say Jordan?" she asked sharply.
Jordan stood, approached Dena, and knelt before her feet. "Thank you for correcting me, ma'am," he said, right before kissing her feet.
"You may resume your duties," said Ms. Parker. Jordan stood up, grabbed his shorts and put them on, and returned to his place at the punch bowl. Another man approached Dena, bowed, and handed her a clean white blouse identical to the punch-stained blouse she was wearing.
"You can change in the ladies room down that hall," Ms. Parker pointed. "Grant will take your blouse and have it laundered for you."
"Thank you Ms. Parker," said Dena, as she left, with Grant following behind her.
"Hmmm . . ." thought Dena. "This manservant's name is 'Grant' just like Dad." Dena briefly amused herself with the thought of her father at this party, dressed in nothing but tight shorts, sandals, and a leather collar, waiting hand and foot on all the ladies at the party. She decided that she was definitely going to like it at the Scythian Academy.
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