Culture Clash

[barelin]

Culture Clash

[Author’s note: Originally written by Mark Chessman. It was rewritten with permission, by barelin and edited by megansdad. Culture Clash takes place in the Upper Danubia universe created by Edward EC also known as caligula97030 on deviantart.com

A brief explanation of the culture of Danubia before we start our story, Danubia was formerly a republic before changes in government. The country was split into two parts; Upper Danubia (where this story takes place) and Lower Danubia. It is one of the smaller nation-states in Eastern Europe.

The revolution that took over the government of Danubia closed down all detention facilities within the country. A complete overhaul of the judicial system led to the policy that no one would be detained for more than twenty-four hours at a time for the commission of a crime. Those accused of a crime have a speedy trial of the offense.

The new judicial system has implemented two forms of punishment that are usually used together. Collaring is done with an electronic monitoring neck collar, locked into place for the duration of the criminal’s sentence. The second aspect of criminal punishment is the corporal nature of caning or whipping with a tawse. The criminal courts require the criminal to be collared with a steel collar. This collar is attached with a special device that permanently locks the collar in place. It can only be removed by another device that destroys the locking mechanism. If a criminal tries to remove the collar the police will be alerted and the GPS will allow the police to track their last location. The collar also emits a debilitating electric shock if the lock is tampered with. Criminals are deprived of all clothing, during the full duration of their sentence.

Strapping with a leather device called a tawse (a two- to three-foot-long leather strap one and a-half inches wide with the end notched) is done upon the bare buttocks and thighs of the criminal. The usual adult sentence consists of fifty lashes upon sentencing, issued every three months throughout the sentence.

The officer administering the blows must take care to raise welts visible to the witnessing judge to ensure that the skin is not broken. To do so would cause the officer to lose their job. Lesser switching punishments are administered for children and certain infractions within schools and institutions, not of a criminal nature.

To see a naked criminal collared and going about their life within Danubian society is not a rarity. Criminals must have work that keeps them in public view, so delivery men, waitstaff, and store clerks are acceptable jobs. Unlike in other countries where the criminals work within the grounds of the detention facility. As there are no prisons, criminals usually live with their families and under the supervision of the courts.

Nudity practiced by the average citizen is also not uncommon in Danubian society. All physical education and health club activity is done nude by all citizens. Soon after the revolution, one of the first laws passed forbade the wearing of all swimwear. As a result of this law all swimwear was returned to the manufacturer; making swimwear unavailable anywhere within the country.

Lastly, in the Danubian religion, there is a provision for a rite called Public Penance. A penitent goes before the priest and confesses a sin in life that needs correction and then voluntarily surrenders the right to wear clothing for some time until the priest and penitent agree the penitent has atoned for the sin. A person may also become a penitent in support of a family member, as a show of family honor.]

Prelude

Narrator

Marcia Shevat was fourteen years old when the event that would shake her life occurred. Born and raised on Army posts, she had lived in and moved to more military towns by age twelve than most civilians move in a lifetime. Marcia was living in Fort Riley, Kansas, with her parents at the time of the event that would determine the course of the rest of her life.

Marcia had learned to swim the summer before she started Kindergarten and had continued to take swim classes through fourth grade. Then, at age ten, Marcia was taught to swim competitively at Fort Leonard Wood. Marcia was a member of the YMCA swimming team under the twelve divisions and transferred to the YMCA all-swimming team.

From age twelve until she was fourteen, Marcia would swim in every event she could. It looked as if she would compete in the Pan Am Games, then the Junior Worlds, and be ready for the Olympics during her college years.

One day she returned home after a high school swim meets to find a chaplain, a Major from her father’s unit, and a Senior Master Sergeant sitting in the living room of the base house. Her mother was weeping, her brothers were stone silent. Marcia knew this was very bad. She dropped her swim duffle bag and ran in to ask her mother what had happened.

“Your father,” her mother sobbed, “he’s…” and could go no further. The Chaplain said, “Marcia, your father has died in a field training exercise. ‘Training my ass,’ Marcia thought. ‘He died on a mission in a country he shouldn’t have been in.’ It happened to the hummer your father was in. He was trapped after it rolled over while they failed to climb a muddy grade bank. He died when an exposed tree root busted the windshield and penetrated his chest. There was nothing anyone could do.”

Life was a blur after that, and although the Army was very sorry for our loss, the Shevat family still had to vacate the post-housing within six months of the death. The only plus was the Veteran’s benefits (money, the continuation of medical, and the IDs that let us shop at the base PX Note: PX stands for Post Exchange. Think of it as a military version of a Walmart supercenter). They settled into a smaller modular home in Lawrence, Kansas, and tried to get on with their lives as normally as possible.

Modesty was not something swimmers and divers were known for, as ill-fitting team suits were notorious for dropping off a diver in an entry or a swimmer hoisting her body up a ladder from the pool. Indeed, Marcia herself had been a victim of such a ‘water stripping.’ When she first transferred to the civilian high school and tried out for the swim team she was issued a team swimsuit marked her size but felt loose. Launching off the starting block for a hundred-meter freestyle event she lost the straps on the top of the suit entering the water and lost the rest of the bathing suit mid-pool on the return.

A newspaper photo of Marcia, with one hand raised in victory while the other clutched a hastily grabbed towel barely covering her front, was clipped and pasted in many of the school’s lockers, both male and female.

A fifth place in the Olympic trials, while not good enough to secure a place on the team higher than the second alternate, got the attention of several good Midwestern Universities. Marcia decided on the all-expenses scholarship to the University just outside Chicago. In exchange for her athletics, Marcia would receive room, board, books, fees, travel expenses, and a team uniform allowance. A mandatory grade point average of 3.0 was an expectation of the school. She and her mother expected a 3.5.

Practice, meets, classes, and starting over again became Marcia’s campus routine. Once again, most of her friends were teammates. Hanging out in the steam room, sauna, or hot tub provided in the athlete’s dorm became Marcia’s relaxation. Again, like-minded young women, and some of the guys from the other floors in the co-ed athlete’s dorm, would pad around the hall nude or nearly so. So familiar with each other’s bodies that they all became comfortable with nudity. By the end of the first semester, we had by unspoken agreement, decided not to hook up with each other. They were buds, pals, and almost brother and sister in relating to each other; however, sexual tensions were minimal.

Then came the day, Sophomore year, late in the first semester, when in the mandatory class named Inter-Cultural Sociological Studies, taught by Professor Sarah Bushnell, Marcia asked a question. It was one little question that was to have a profound impact on her life. Doctor Bushnell had been a part of an exchange program, about the third year the program had been in existence. She explained how the program of exchanging students that the National University of Danubia had started.

She mentioned the lack of competitive sports programs within the academic tier from grade school through university. Marcia shot up her hand and asked the question. “Young lady,” her professor announced to the class, “You are the first to ask that question. I believe it needs proper research. Please see me after class.” Marcia’s heart sank. Proper research usually meant a fifty-page paper on the topic, with a bibliography not drawn from Wikipedia.

Sarah Bushnell, B.A., M.S., Ph.D., had recently risen from Adjunct Professor to a full professorship at the University. She is an alumna of the Danubian/University exchange program and a junior member of the University selection team for prospective students requesting participation in the ‘year abroad program.’

The usual grouping of Social Science majors, with a smattering of Language, Earth Sciences, and Engineering, had filed applications earlier following the previous academic year. The selectees were already signed up for Danubian Society and Culture and Danubian Language 101. Sarah Bushnell saw in her non-major student a potential to add something to the exchange mix.

As a Physical Education major, who hoped to become a Physical Education teacher and coach at the high school level, Marcia Shevat was not within the traditional disciplines for exchange. Perhaps she would be a small pebble to ripple the pond of sameness achieved in the nine years the program had been in effect.

The idea in Dr. Bushnell’s mind was to begin widening the exchange program and give other majors a chance to be exposed to the Duchy and its culture. She needed a curious-minded individual not afraid to ask questions that challenged traditional thought. Marcia had asked the question, and light had appeared in her professor’s mind Dr. Bushnell wanted to have her as a candidate if the rest of the University committee and the representatives of the Danubian government, education department, and clergy agreed.

Here it goes.
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Chapters

Chapter 1. Arrival
Chapter 2. The Seminoles
Chapter 3. At The Dinner Table and Afterward
Chapter 4. Getting Into the Swim of Things
Chapter 5. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Chapter 6. Help, I’m Drowning
Chapter 7. Dining Out
Chapter 8. The Gift for The Siminov Family
Chapter 9. Servant of the Ancients and the Creator
Chapter 10. Into the New Year
Chapter 11. The Family Visits
Chapter 12. The Competition

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Barelin's Stories Archive

[barelin]

Marcia’s Perspective

Chapter 1 Arrival

A year in Europe as an exchange student; I wondered who would not jump at that. All expenses paid by the college including books, room, board, tuition, transportation, and pocket money, from July first of one year to July first of the next.

I had been the only athletic scholar admitted to the Danubian exchange program. Most of the other young men and women leaving for Germany with her were engineering, political science majors, or economics majors. One girl was pre-med, another pre-law going to Danubia to do master’s level work in comparative studies of judiciaries. The ratio in this group of exchange students was about three to one male to female.

Stepping off the airplane in Frankfurt, getting on the Griffin Airlines flight to Danubia into my life as a college junior training to be a Physical Education Teacher. Danubia had no formal team sports in competition with other nations or at the university level with other schools. Marcia had asked one of her instructors, Sarah Bushnell, during a non-major required Sociology class, how not having organized sports as part of the University of Danubia’s fundraising affected the school and its relationships.

Stating that this was an excellent question and worthy of a student’s exploration, Doctor Bushnell invited me to participate in an informal student and faculty round table. Three representatives from Danubia were present at this round table, which surprised Marcia. A Danubian priestess representing the Orthodox Church of Danubia, a department chairperson from the University of Danubia, and a consul general from the consular offices of the Danubian government in Chicago.

The exchange program between the countries is now in its ninth year, and a narrow pool of students has gone out to the University departments. Students with interests in subjects other than engineering, forestry, political sciences, and economics should be encouraged to apply for the year-long cultural and educational exchange program. I had no idea that I was there as a potential exchange candidate. I had asked my question and received smiles and nods in response from the Danubian representatives, and the University faculty.

When the official letterhead from the University came to her room in the athletes’ dormitory, I opened it fearfully. Usually, letters such as these tell a student about the scholarship such as the grades from the last semester makes the athlete ineligible for competition, or some other negative connotation.

Her letter read, “Congratulations, Marcia Shevat, you were selected by this University as an exchange representative to the University of Danubia.” I pulled out my cell phone and immediately called my mother. My family now lived in the development of modular homes in a quiet lower middle-class community three states distant from Marcia’s college campus.

I was the first in my family to attend college and had only been able to afford it by maintaining my athletic scholarship. I had been born to swim competitively. From my first doggie paddle in the post pool at age five through grade school competitions at the local community pool in the summer and the YMCA in the winter and my four years of high school. I had set one local record after another by breaking one of my own in the relay, freestyle, and backstroke. As I discussed the possible exchange program with my mother, the family’s concerns for my future spilled out. How could I afford my senior year and graduate school if my scholarship was gone? What about my brothers?

“Mom,” I pled, “I have been assured that my scholarship will be there for my senior year. I have been promised a fellowship for graduate school if my paper on Physical Culture in Danubian Society meets University standards. Doctor Bushnell has already agreed to mentor me through independent study so that this thesis will indeed meet the academic requirements. Also, if you wish to visit me in Danubia at Christmas or whenever, the Duchy government has offered you round-trip tickets.”

In the end, my mother was satisfied that this would not just be some extended spring break adventure but a real educational opportunity for Marcia to allow her daughter to participate. Twenty men and seven women stepped off the Griffin Airlines turboprop aircraft onto the tarmac of the National Airport. After a non-eventful transatlantic flight and the short hop from Germany to Danubia, I was excited to finally meet my host family.

Several host families were at the gate, just past the customs officials, waiting for their exchange students. I looked at the hand-printed signs held by the Danubian hosts and saw none for me. The other students were greeted and taken away by their host families. I waited for several hours, sitting outside customs clearance, without a sign of my host family. Finally, three people approached me. They were not the ones I had hoped to meet, the two males dressed as uniformed police officers, and the woman was a Spokeswoman for the Criminal.

It was a Spokeswoman with halting yet less American English who addressed me, “There is a problem with your student visa Marcia Shevat, and we would like you to accompany us to the central courts building to straighten the matter.”

“A problem?” I asked, concerned that I would have to return to the States in humiliation. “The Danubian Consulate approved my visa in Chicago. I don’t understand what the problem could be?” I was worried, as I had been taught in the classes dealing with customs and traditions for criminal suspects were usually stripped and possibly switched. I had no desire to have my clothing taken from me less than a day after I arrived in the country.

“Yes, a problem,” the Spokeswoman repeated, “perhaps a minor inconvenience to you, and perhaps more serious. These officers have a van outside and will drive us to the central judiciary so that we might resolve the issue quickly.”

I remembered that private automobiles, even taxicabs, weren’t permitted in Danubia. Only official vehicles existed, and this Spokeswoman had probably called the police to arrange a ride. Okay, let’s go downtown. After a short while, I found myself in the Spokeswoman’s office. By observation, I learned that the Spokespersons for the Criminal were multi-faceted as defense counsel, parole officers, and job counselors for their criminal clientele.

I also learned that Beth-Anne Takinva was a former U.S. citizen who had married a Danubian man while studying in Danubia and had stayed on to work in the judicial branch foreign criminal supervision section of the Spokesperson’s office. Before her marriage, her name had been Beth-Anne Hawkins.

Beth-Anne had not been home to the United States in six years. As an only child of only children, her roots in the United States were severed during her exchange year in Danubia. Her parents had died when their Piper Cub crashed. Her mother was flying her father home after a Rotary Club convention in St. Louis.

Following the traditional two years, one of dating and then one engaged, the couple stood before a priestess of the Danubian Church and was married. Then had two years of Danubian legal training, a short course at the national police academy, and a two-year spokesperson apprenticeship. For the last four years, she had worked in the Spokesperson’s office, now as a fully vetted Spokeswoman, dealing with long and short-term criminals from outside the Danubian populace.

She had spent those years speaking as a Danubian and now found it difficult to revert to English when necessary. Now, she had the difficult task of informing Ms. Marcia Shevat that her year in Danubia would not be the pleasantly uneventful stay she may have hoped.

“Marcia, there is no easy way for me to tell you this so I shall relate the story and then allow you to ask questions after telling the following. I will ask you not to interrupt and listen closely to what I say.” I nodded and waited for the older woman to begin.

“Your host family cannot abide by its agreement to house, feed, and maintain you for your school year. A criminal event arose when a student you were to exchange with was accused of plagiarism on her schoolwork and then lied about it to her professor. In Danubia, it is an insurrection toward a public official in the performance of her official duties.

“Her parents were so distraught that following her first switching on the afternoon of her trial and her being led off to the recovery room here in the Spokesperson’s offices, her parents went before the priests at the Temple and began a year of public penance. Here is the problem, the penance extends to the entire family. The criminal’s passport was taken upon her conviction.

“I’m sure you can see why we wished to avoid an unpleasant stay in our country, and are offering you a return first-class ticket to the United States.” Beth-Anne finished and waited for my questions yet to come. “Uh, okay,” I know you don’t have prisons and that you’re a spokeswoman for the criminal.”

I looked up to see an attractive red-headed woman, nude save for a metal collar, being led to another office by two police officers, “Well, they are fully nude for the period of their sentence. But, if I understand you, they live at home?”

Beth-Anne responded, “Yes, they must have suitable housing, and if the family, though disgraced by their behavior will have them, then that is where they go to live. Additionally, they must have adequate employment within two days of their sentencing.

As this crime involved the university, this criminal has lost the right to study there for one year,” Beth-Anne informed me.

“So, the room I would have occupied is still being slept in by the girl criminal?” I inquired.

“Yes, Marcia Shevat, and as I said, the entire family is doing public penance in shame to honor the family name which the student brought down upon them by her actions.” Beth-Anne paused, smiled, and continued, “They have room for you, Marcia, yet you may not like the conditions you would have to live in if you took that offer.”

Oh, what, might I ask, would those conditions be?” I tried to think of some way to salvage her year abroad.

Beth-Anne took a deep breath while smiling, “Since the family that was going to be your host family will still welcome you into their home as a member of their family. You will be required to live by the same restrictions and rules, which include all public penance. You will be required to leave your suitcases, with your clothing, here with me. Including the clothes that you are currently wearing which would be cut off and burned on the temple grounds. The priests would collar you as a penitent.”

Feeling completely trapped, wondering what to say as she continued, “Beyond that, no other changes would occur in your social, academic, or legal standing in Danubia. If you do not accept this as your option, the country will pay for a return flight that will be booked for you to return to the United States without prejudice.”

I thought for more than a moment about this situation. I already knew about my physical education coursework, practice, and competition. Any team sport participated in while a student in Danubia would be in the nude. I also knew that honor was very high on the Danubian cultural level, and I would share the dishonor and honor of redemption of my host family whatever choice I made.

If I were to fly home, the family would face the dishonor of my leaving due to their daughter’s poor judgment. If I stayed and agreed to the penance collar, I would be nude twenty-four/seven for a year, but most of her waking hours would be in school and practice. What harm could it do to remain so at home with my hosts or elsewhere on the streets?

If the Danubians did not care, neither did she. “Beth-Anne, could you help me find something suitable to wear to the temple? I’ll slip that on so we can get this process started. I’d love to meet the girl who is the cause for my surrendering my clothing for a year.”

“I’m sorry, Marcia,” Beth-Anne replied, “The American culture lacks the formality of us in Danubia. From now on, I expect you to refer to me as Spokeswoman Takinva whenever we speak.”

Opening the college student cases, the two women rummaged through separating what a Danubian could use from what was not appropriate on Danubian soil. my hygiene products received a good going over. Danubian women do not shave unless switched for an offense. As a swimmer, I had all of my body hair removed by electrolysis several years ago. What would Danubians think when I never grew hair? A bottle of perfume went in the ‘hold until I go home’ suitcase.

Beth-Anne also told me that Danubian culture viewed piercings as a moral affront to Danubian theology. Therefore, my earrings and belly ring were removed and placed in storage. The University class ring, my gold Chi necklace, and a belly chain were deemed not to meet the standards.

“The university ring implies haughtiness regarding status, an attitude unacceptable to Danubians,” Beth-Anne explained, “The Chi is a symbolic representation of an outside faith system and could risk your being held as a foreign missionary, as evangelical outreach is illegal in Danubia. The belly chain is merely a vanity item, and Danubian women tend to downplay vanity. One may be nude and go unnoticed, having one piece of jewelry to draw the eye toward your vanity, woman or man, as the case may be is unacceptable.”

Beth-Anne kept to herself the matter that Marcia already had sufficient deviations upon her nude body to draw unwanted Danubian attention. Swimsuit tan lines, lack of body hair, plucked eyebrows, and hair cut too short to be braided on her head would cause murmuring. Among the Danubians, she would meet over the next several weeks. Best not to stress the girl out about that at this time was Beth-Anne’s thought. A long t-shirt dress was found to be long enough for temple modesty and easily material-wise to be clipped off and burned following my acceptance as a penitent.

Beth-Anne spent the next forty-five minutes with me getting me to understand the questions that would be asked by the priestess and priest who would meet them at the temple. For most of the questions, a simple yes was the answer. The balance of their responses would be for my honor and the honor of my host family.

The priest and priestess met me on the steps of the temple. Looking at my attire approvingly seemed to them that Beth-Anne had coached me well.

I prostrated myself at the appropriate point in the temple and was asked, “Are you the American, Marcia Shevat?”

She promptly replied ‘Yes’ in Danubian.

“Have you come here today freely and willingly, seeking the release of public penance?” The priestess asked, “Again, the reason for your seeking penance?”

Marcia responded, “For my honor and the honor of my host family.”

A few questions later, a pair of very sharp scissors appeared beneath one of the temple robes. my T-shirt dress was in two pieces in my arms and I was led to the fire pit and balled the fabric up, then tossed it underhanded into the coals where it was consumed. I was then led back into the temple, where a collar with what looked to be basketweave etched on its surface was placed around my neck and locked in place.

Nude, collared, and quite bewildered at the events of the past several hours, I knelt for the final benediction. I rose to face the priest and priestess. I backed out of the temple sanctuary, low at the waist.

Once in the public area of the temple grounds, I finally met my host family. The adults were collared and nude as well, yet greeted and treated me like seeing me nude was the most natural thing in life for them. What I had been allowed to keep: books, school supplies, hair brushes, etc fit into a backpack that Beth-Anne now handed me. my two suitcases would remain in Beth-Anne’s locked closet at Spokesperson Central until I was ready to leave the country.

I was finally able to meet the girl Ivanka that put me in this little naked mess. I had many questions to ask, but we were busy checking each other out. I noticed the fifty welts on her thighs and derriere had not yet lost their color or inflammation.

Ivanka, on the other hand, was shocked that my hair was shorter than most boys who kept their hair quite short. She also was staring at my legs, arms, and pubis, as there was not one hair anywhere on my body. The white triangles of pale flesh on my breasts, pelvis, and derriere also grabbed Ivanka’s attention. There were long hours of seemingly endless discussion about the cultural differences between the United States and Danubia, which would wait until the family was home and inside its walls.

[barelin]

Chapter 2. The Seminoles

I entered the host family’s home in the detached townhouse in the northwestern section of Danubia City, following a trolley ride two blocks from the trolley stop.

I learned that the public penance I had joined with my host family included standing while on all public transportation. The stares she received from those riding were many more than even Ivanka, with her bruised bottom, had gotten.

The three other Siminov children were waiting at home for Ivanka and her parents to return, with or without the exchange student. I wasn’t sure which of the three was more excited to meet the now nude American student.

The girls began barraging me with questions before I had a moment to cross the threshold into the Siminov home. With typical curiosity, ‘Did you have a good trip?’ ‘Was Danubia a surprise to you?’ ‘What do you like to eat? Do you listen to Socrates Mistresses? ‘What does a varsity swimmer do? and ‘What happened to your hair?’

I was trying to answer each question as Kivar, looked at them, and reprimanded with, “Martina, Kaleen, go set the table as Mamma asked you before she left. We shall have plenty of time to ask questions on that day.”

Among the cultural differences between Danubian and American siblings interacted; however, the tone Kivar took sounded very condescending and somewhat demeaning toward the twins and me.

“Thank you, Kivar, I needed a moment to get my thoughts together as to the events of the day, and I guess you will be my foster brother for the next year,” Marcia offered her hand.

“Men and women do not have public physical contact unless married or engaged,” Kivar noted at her extended hand to look nowhere else. He did not add that the rule did not apply to criminals, the butchered head hair, and lack of body hair. I must be a wicked criminal in America. Oddly, he found my tan lines strangely erotic and found himself responding physically in a rather uncomfortable and unexpected way.

Kivar turned beet red from embarrassment, muttered something in Danubian slang under his breath, and backed out of the living room. Leaving me standing there alone and listening to the clatter of the dining room. Ivanka came to my rescue and offered to show me the house and yard.

“The sitting room, you have already seen,” Ivanka smiled. “Let us step outdoors into the rear yard.”

Once outside, I viewed a well-kept and gardened area about eighteen by ten meters. It almost looked like a suburban yard in America, there was a four-meter fence around its three sides.

Ivanka explained that although everyone sunned and swam in the nude in Danubia, family privacy was the norm. To intrude upon that privacy was a breach of Danubian protocols.

Ivanka showed me the swimming pool shared by the four units in the quadrangle. It was adequate for social swimming and aquatic exercise, but Marcia would have to find a fifty-meter swimming pool for her lap and speed training. Ivanka explained that the school and work kept the swimming pool open to the public. Ivanka showed me the raised ‘air bath’ platform where the family sunbathed in descent weather – nude and as a family.

I thought for a moment and then realized my body showed evidence of sunbathing but in the form of tan lines where my swimsuit had covered me when I remembered that swimwear was illegal under Danubian law. Her host family wasn’t accustomed to seeing tan marks left from the bikini.

Back into the house through the kitchen door, My host and I passed through with a quick hug from Ivanka for her mother, who was busy stirring a noodle dish on the stove. The twins had finished setting the large family table in the dining room and had retreated to their room just down the hall. Ivanka did not knock; minor children expected privacy from family members and found the two younger girls quietly squabbling with each other over who would get to read a book first.

Popular culture magazines and books were not allowed in Danubia, and the type of book a young girl or boy might desire was the latest in a series of novels for young adults dealing with Danubian history and relationships in a way that interested the tween reader. ‘The Silver Duke of Danubia’ was a book which the girls considered was a prize worth winning in their eyes. Ivanka walked up to the pair, took the book, and shook her head hard enough to loosen a braid. With pouty looks on the younger girls’ faces made it clear they were happy it was Ivanka and not Mamma or Poppa who had witnessed the display.

I was beginning to wonder how this young woman could have become a criminal when the purity of her heart and spirit seemed to shine in everything she did. Carrying the offending book in her hands, Ivanka opened the door to Kivar’s room. Kivar sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed with a bewildered look on his face.

“What seems to be the trouble, little brother,” Ivanka asked the fourteen-year-old when he looked up at her. “Her,” was his one-word response while pointing a finger in my direction. “Oh? Precisely what did Marcia do to make you so upset?” the older sister inquired. “She threatened to hug and kiss me,” Kivar used a tone suggesting this would have proved the worst form of punishment short of a pillory.

Hiding the giggle that was forming under her breath, Ivanka very authoritatively suggested to her brother, “Well, I will strongly suggest to you that you not repeat the behavior that provoked such a threat.”

The two young women backed out of Kivar’s room and closed his door just before the giggles started. “He likes you, probably had one of the physical responses young teenage boys get when they like a girl and was so embarrassed he had to retreat to his room. Oh my, I’d hate to see the reaction he’ll have if you do hug and kiss him.” Ivanka was still laughing when she showed me the bathroom. Here a sunken tub, more like a hot tub than a typical American bathtub, took center stage. It was communal and for soaking, resting, and relaxing, but not for washing one’s body.

That was done in the shower, separated from the tub by a meter and a half-tiled wall. It had wall-mounted and handheld shower heads and provided for total cleansing before one stepped into the tub. After a long soak, a person would shower again using an exfoliating scrub. I soon found that each bedroom had a ‘water closet’ integrated with a commode, sink, and mirror but bathing communally.

Ivanka opened the door to the room the two young women would share for the next twelve months. A large French door with curtains flung to the sides showed a view of the air bath platform. A rose bush beside it on the fence line. The room itself was a thing of female beauty. Done in lavenders and pinks, from carpet to walls to ceiling, and dominated by two full-size beds. One with a pink spread and the other with a pink and purple striped. Each student’s desk at the foot and a small dresser against the wall. Their door to the water closets opened on one wall was empty. Not a dress, skirt, blouse, sweater, or undergarment remained in Ivanka’s room.

Having agreed to accept participation in the family’s public penance, no problem with this, as she also had nothing to be hung up or folded in drawers. The few soaps and lotions I had been allowed to keep in school supplies were in the one backpack. That, for now, I simply sat in the corner by the French doors to the yard.

“Which one will be mine?” I asked Ivanka. Ivanka pointed to the bed nearest the water closet. “I thought it would be less of a navigation problem for you at night if you found yourself needing to use the facilities,” was Ivanka’s explanation. The discussion ended for the moment as Momma called the family to the table for dinner.

[barelin]

Chapter 3. At The Dinner Table and Afterward

Entering the dining room, I immediately noticed that each chair had a small folded towel. “To sit on,” whispered Ivanka. The family placed themselves about the table in their seating arrangement, thus showing me where my place at the table would be for the year.

I was to be to Poppa’s left as he sat at the head of the table. Momma sat at the foot, with one of the twins on either side of her. To Poppa’s right sat Ivanka then sat Kivar. There was an empty chair between me and the twins; I supposed this was to keep the symmetry.

Kaleen questioned the American guest as the family finished the traditional prayer of thanks for the food on the table. “You said, Amen, when we prayed, , we do not say that,” Kaleen rattled off. Her father, Ivan, corrected the child with, “Our guest is hungry, let her eat in peace,” and gave the girl a significant look.

“With your permission, Papa Siminov, I feel I can both eat this delicious meal and answer questions. I know what it is like to have curious younger siblings. I would like all of you to know I wish to have no secrets between us as to myself.”

I finished with a twirl of my noodles on a fork and popped the mouthful to chew. Done, I looked at my hostess and said, “I trust you will give me this recipe to take home with me. I would like to spend time at your side learning to prepare it while I am here.”

Ursula Siminova beamed at that. It was the type of response a girl would give to a boyfriend’s parents when the relationship was becoming enough to consider an engagement sign the American truly wished to become a family member. I had chosen my words well. “Now, Kaleen,” I began, after polishing off another mouthful of food from my plate, “I am not of your faith, and if I ask forgiveness. ‘Amen’ is an old Hebrew word, ‘so let it be. It is what my people say when they agree that a person is leading a prayer.”

“Oh.” Kaleen accepted the answer and realized she would be treated as an equal by this new entry into the family circle. Martina shot, “Are those white patches on your skin also a religious thing?”

Momma looked at the girl with the look only a mother can give an errant child and responded, “In my country, we lack the comfort of the Danubian way; and not all of the people are as happy with the way their bodies are.

“So, Martina, when I went to enjoy the sun and the lakeside, I was not as fortunate as you and had to cover those areas up. The sun could not get through the cloth so I was left with these lines on my skin.” Martina suddenly smiled and thought to herself, Momma and Poppa would have to give Kaleen and me time to lie about in the sun. Maybe having this American stranger in our house could work out after all.

Kivar whispered something to his sisters as I took a piece of the dense black bread from a plate in the middle of the table to sop up the vegetable juices left on my plate.

His mother was about to cite him for rudeness, but Ivanka wagged a finger indicating she had the one under control. “Kivar is also curious about things, but, being a boy, he is afraid to ask you directly,” Ivanka offered. “This is the reason for his whispering in my ear.”

I smiled, “If the question needs asking, Kivar, ask it. I have nothing to hide from you or your family, so ask away. Nothing you could say or do would embarrass me. I have brothers and am well over being embarrassed by them.” Kivar looked at his mother for permission, then began,” You have no hair.” with that, he faltered and turned bright red. “So, it is not I who is embarrassed by your question, if that is what that was, is it?”

I laughed lightly. “No, I do not have hair on my body. As in many others, those who compete in sports shave off their body hair since injuries and wounds are easier to treat without it. Also, in my case, the drag of the water on the body is lessened when swimming. Realizing I was good enough to compete at national and international levels in my sport, my parents took me to a doctor who used a special laser to remove all the hair below the neck.

“American women use various haircuts and styles, they even change the color of their hair, but here women do not. So again, with your sisters and mother helping me I will be letting my hair grow out,”

Seeing Ivanka rolling her eyes toward Kivar and then looking back to me, Marcia got the hint offered softly. Kivar brought home girlfriends who would spend the night or the weekend, but would get a little excited and embarrassed at seeing a new girl in the house.

An hour of conversation allowed Marcia to learn the crime Ivanka had committed was considered an offense which in the states may have only resulted in a university fine or a suspended grade of incomplete.

Ivanka knew of the strict interpretation of Danubian plagiarism rules when she turned in her final paper to the professor. Her professor spoke before the classroom, “Ivanka Siminov, do you attest that all the work herein is your work unless properly attributed?”

She had answered yes and left the classroom. Upon opening the main compartment of her backpack, she realized that she had turned in her paper without annotated footnotes and a bibliography of citations. Rushing back to the professor to give her the correct paper, she was too late. That left Ivanka open to criminal-level charges of lying to a public official, as the Danubians called it, and plagiarism.

Her Spokesman, during her trial, argued that the matter was a simple mistake, exhibited the correct paper, and expressed that when Ivanka swore the work was her own, she believed the content of the package was the final and not the draft.

The judge could have sentenced Ivanka to ten years in the collar on the charges and allowed for the mitigation of an error on Ivanka’s part. He disallowed the plagiarism charges but allowed the false swearing to stand.

The sentence imposed was the one-year suspension of university attendance, loss of her exchange student status to the university in Chicago, and corporal punishment equivalent to that within the university rules.

Total of one hundred twenty-five lashes with the switch, twenty-five to be administered at the end of this court session. Next year, Ivanka would receive punishment on the first and last day of each school semester.

She could return to school on the first day of the following semester. The year she would have spent overseas in America would be spent instead working as a waitress in an outdoor coffee shop in the center of Danubia City.

I could not comprehend the punishment fitting the crime. The Simonov family had not only accepted it but was using it as a teaching tool for the younger children. Every action within Danubian society carried with it consequences farther reaching than just the individual.

In this case, the family taking on public penance showed that the entire family accepted responsibility for Ivanka’s act of carelessness. We are expected to learn to take care in our work and to assure that what they attested to was indeed the truth. Ivanka’s parents drew the knowledge that one can presume one’s child, can act like an adult and be ready to take on those responsibilities, yet, that child will still need the attention of a parent to a child when it comes to fundamental aspects of living.

The family was very impressed with the American girl who came to the country of Danubia, with the Danubian sense of honor and honesty already in place. I answered every question and every action from my arrival in the home had been more Danubian than their children. To have this girl in their home could only add honor to the Siminov family name.

In the room, a quiet gabfest was ongoing as well. “The twins will be your shadows for at least the rest of the summer until their school reopens,” Ivanka whispered. “They are in awe of you. You are what they would like to be as women, strong, intelligent, athletic, and independent, yet, respectful of tradition.”

I quietly laughed and noted, “Yeah, they both seemed to light up when I mentioned needing their help and wanting to even out my tan. I guess Momma keeps them busy most days.”

“She feels happy keeping them occupied about the house and indoors. I suppose she feels they will become too happy and comfortable in their nudity and do something stupid before school starts to remain that way,” Ivanka answered.

“And your brother? We shall have to see about him, although I feel he will become to you as he is to me. A pain in the rear end when you’re around him, yet, a fiercely loyal protector when non-family is concerned. You have not seen his altogether moody brat attitude yet. It will show up at some point. That will be the test of our family’s acceptance of you.” Ivanka whispered. Ivanka never realized I had fallen asleep; I was so exhausted from the events of the long day.

[barelin]

I was up early and learned that the rest of the house was already up and about. I cleaned up and went into the kitchen for the buffet on the countertops, choosing from fruits, fresh bread, and jam spreads that looked homemade.

“Well, sleepy head,” Poppa smiled broadly at the American girl, “not quite ready to keep Danubian farmer hours yet?”

“Sorry, Poppa,” I used to be familiar with Ivan knowing that as a guest, she was considered one of his children, “I must still be shaking off jet lag. “In the States, this time of the morning I would have been in the pool for two hours, stretching and doing laps,” I said.

Kaleen offered, “Well, the pool is just out back.”

Martina countered, “She needs a real pool, silly, the kind that the military and the National Police have at their academies, not a tiny family backyard affair.”

Kaleen almost whispered, “I forgot” The enthusiasm and happiness drained from her voice.

“About that, Marcia,” Ursula offered, “we can arrange for Ivanka to take you on your first day and introduce you to the academy instructors at the Military Academy of Danubia. Unfortunately, the academy is just outside the yellow line, beyond which Ivanka may not travel.

Poppa and I have other commitments and cannot go, but we have written directions for you with the trolleys to take and the stops to transfer if you do not mind going by yourself. Poppa has also written a letter of introduction for you to show the guards at the gate. The look she gave was sorrow that her daughter’s actions had again impacted the life of her American guest.

I looked at Kivar and the twins, then at Ursula Siminov, and offered, “Momma, is there any reason why Kivar and the girls cannot escort me today? I would be glad if the company keeps me from getting lost knowing of a pastry shop where I could buy a nice dessert for tonight’s dinner.” Ivanka looked at me and explained that the twins were too young to venture into the; outer reaches of the city during their period of public penance. “For them, it is home, school, temple activities, and play within the neighborhood unless a parent is escorting them,” Ivanka concluded.

She then continued, “Kivar, on the other hand, has passed his fourteenth birthday and is considered a pre-adult under Danubian law. He has slightly more freedom of movement than the twins. If you desire an escort, I’m sure Kivar would be willing.” Ivanka suggested in a way that Kivar had no wiggle room in the matter; he would smile, volunteer his services, and make no fuss. I wondered what the older sister held over her brother’s head to gain such compliance.

“So, what do you say, Kivar?” I asked cheerfully. “Would you do that for me, at least for today until I get to know the routes to take?” Giving a look that suggested he’d rather have a root canal done without anesthesia, Kivar muttered, “Sure, fine, whatever.”

‘Yep,’ I thought, ‘He is one moody teenage brother with this passive-aggressive attitude.” I asked him, “Do you have a friend you would like to come along with, Kivar?”

“None whom I wish to see me dressed the way I am,” Kivar admitted ruefully, “Particularly not Lydia.” Kaleen risked her life to mutter, “Kivar likes Lydia, and she is in his class at school and is quite the curviest girl in his grade level. She did not see the sweet roll Kivar launched at her. Martina said, “Duck,” and she did so instinctively.

Momma decided to let the punishment fit the crime, “Kaleen, please do call over to Lydia’s and see if she is free to help our guest find her way in the city.” Kivar was stuck, two females to escort, both of whom stirred teenage yearnings in his loins and nothing to hide his reactions behind. “Ah, too bad, well maybe another time,” Kaleen spoke into the phone and hung up.

“She cannot go with you, Kivar” Her family is doing an outing at the lake north of the city today. She was going to invite you to go, but I told her you were busy with family duties.” If Kivar did not retaliate against Kaleen in the future it would only be because she never left herself alone long enough for him to get his hands on her.

It took almost ninety minutes to get from the Siminov home to the National Military Academy of the Danubian Republic. Kivar handed the letter of introduction to the guard at the gate. The officer came to the gate he asked, “You are the American swimming athlete, Marcia Shevat?”

“Yes, sir, I am.” I responded and then went on, “The son of my host family, Kivar Siminov, was kind enough to escort me on the unfamiliar public transportation system. May he be allowed to wait for me while I train?”

“Of course, though I’m afraid the pool is not set up for athletic spectators in your homeland.” The young lieutenant, Drakov, as I read the name badge correctly, escorted them about seventy-five meters inside the perimeter fence to a building that looked, from its exterior, like a former palace. A marble entryway with names and dates etched into the floor clearly showed that ‘Fallen Defenders of Danubia Memorial Hall’ had a reason for its existence. “Come,” Lt. Drakov directed, “the natatorium is one level down.”

They arrived at the pool level in time to witness the final moments of a defensive combat training exercise. Male and female cadets struggled in shallow water to apply and break various hand-to-hand combat holds on one another. Lt. Drakov remarked that as the cadets became more proficient. The class would move into deeper water and wouldn’t be able to touch the bottom as they fought.

The Danubian budget for combat simulation training in the pool had not been used for recreation or athletics. For that reason, the cadets were in the water in their battle dress uniforms.

Combat training and the mandatory nudity for swimmers were for them. Only I would swim laps, as an athlete swimmer would do so in the nude. Two lanes of the pool had been roped off for me. The one closest to the wall, where the most turbulence existed, would be empty. I would swim one lane in the five spots in most Olympic-size pools. Kivar found a post out of the draft and was relatively dry to sit.

He watched me stretch on the starter block provided. I stood upon it and crouched into my starting position. When I launched myself torpedo-like from it, dolphin kicking beneath the surface to rise in a steady freestyle stroke a third of the distance down the pool, I did not realize that all activity in the cadet class had ceased. All eyes in the natatorium were on me as she cut through the water, perfectly timing myself at the end of each length of the pool to flip and turn back the way I had just come, my breathing coming rhythmically with every third stroke.

I repeated the process lap after lap until I had done my requisite three kilometers. I then pulled myself out of the water at the deep end. I shook my body to get the excess water as a wet dog might. Then walked from the deep end to the shallow, barely breathing hard. I neither expected nor knew what to do with the applause that broke out; nor why the chant, “Doc-Doc Marcia,” echoed loudly from the pool.

While she was swimming her laps, Lieutenant Drakov had spoken to the training officer and the class about who I was and her reason for using the pool. Later, Lt. Drakov explained to me that while all Danubians expected to swim. There were no competitive sports venues in Danubia where one could train to be a swimmer such as me. He was sure that many cadets and instructors would be asking questions in the coming months, looking to improve individual performance and perhaps even challenging me to informal competition.

I responded that it was always better for a swimmer to have others against whom to pace. I would be happy to spend time in the water with those who wished to learn how to breathe, turn and time themselves as repayment for the favor of the use of Danubia’s fine aquatic center.

“We will see you tomorrow at about this time, then, Marcia Shevat?” Lt. Dracov asked. “If that is convenient with you, Sir, then yes,” I responded. “You respond as one who has served in the military, Marcia Shevat,” Lt. Drakov stated, “Are you a veteran of your armed services?”

“No, Sir,” Marcia responded, “My father was career military, a Staff Sergeant in the Infantry branch of our Army. I grew up on military posts and learned military courtesy as part of my childhood education, Sir.” Draco nodded, “I see, and are you also familiar with other aspects of military training and discipline?”

“My father was fond of saying I was born with the eye and hand of a sniper,” I responded, “I believe I can still put a grouping into the Q on a Quantico qualification target that would look like a single round passed through the paper.”

Dracov smiled as he led Marcia and Kivar down a different corridor than which they had used to enter the building. They passed through a thick door where a Sergeant handed them safety glasses and hearing protection. Dracov unholstered his sidearm in the lane of the firing range and leaned over to me, “Show me” you can fire this weapon.

The Gun she was handed was beautifully maintained for a post-World War Two Walther P-38. I dropped the magazine and checked to see if eight rounds were loaded. I drew back the weapon slide and saw Drakov carrying a round in the chamber. ‘Not a practice of which her father would have approved,’ she thought.

She checked the action one last time as Drakov added five more magazines to the tray at her shooting position. Gripping the weapon in a modified Weaver grip and waiting for the range master to turn the targets, Marcia drew a long breath and exhaled slowly.

The target swung was a ‘no shoot’ of a woman holding an umbrella and a weapon. Another breath and the next target presented a hooded male with an AK-47. I quickly fired four rounds into the target, two into the chest, one into the groin, and one between the eyes. Simultaneously the last round fired target pivoted away another popped up. Another bad guy, another of the spent magazines, I reloaded it.

The process continued until she shot one hundred rounds of ammunition at targets varying in distance between seven and fifty meters. The range master quickly flashed results back to Drakov, ninety-nine out of one hundred perfectly on target. He also informed Drakov that the last round ‘may’ have entered through a keyhole-type hole caused by a misshaped bullet. Entering the weapon target I would be given credit for perfect scoring.

“Very nice,” Draco said, with a straight face hiding the fact he did not believe the girl could shoot as well as she swam. “You shall indeed be an asset to this school on many levels, Marcia Shevat. Tomorrow you will have your identity photo taken for your official duties here.” Draco continued, “You shall be an Apprentice Aquatics Instructor.”

I was stunned. On my second day in the country following being stripped of everything that resembles clothing by accepting her host family’s violation resulting in full nudity and now has a job with the Danubian military. This country is indeed a strange new world, I thought to myself, not a bad one by any means, but nonetheless.

Kivar was, for the first time in his life at a loss for words and attitude. He had never seen anything as cleanly athletic as me slicing through the waters of the military pool. Nor had he ever seen anyone, male or female, handle a handgun with the proficiency Marcia had shown at the pistol range. I had elevated myself from an embarrassing lust object to a warrior goddess in a single afternoon. He could not wait until he could tell his family and friends what happened in that pool and on the firing range.

Kivar burst through the front door of the Siminov home four steps ahead of me when we finished the walk from the trolley stop. I found him and realized he had cornered his mother and was gushing forth factoids faster than the parent could comprehend the child’s words.

Ursula asked what seemed to be the problem and responded, “I went to the academy. Kivar was a great help with directions and transfers. I met Lt. Drakov, who escorted me to the pool and swam my laps, impressing some cadets who offered me a job.”

I had to repeat the story as Ivanka arrived home from her job, as Ivan returned home from his, and finally, for the twins who had played soccer all afternoon, he was tired and took a nap, awakening just before Ursula called everyone to the table for dinner.

“Well, congratulations, Officer Marcia Shevat,” Ivan said and threw her a very sloppy salute, sitting at the head of the dinner table. “Poppa, I do not understand,” I replied.

“Marcia, even an Apprentice Instructor at a military academy has rank. It would be considered the lowest level officer but would still outrank the cadets you would train. That means you will be the equivalent of a Signet, subaltern, ensign, or a rank like that in your military system. Perhaps, not officially on the books for the Danubian military, but your title would carry the weight of such a rank.”

After dinner, I excused myself to go to her room and study some Internet sites concerned with water safety training and swimming instruction. Then it was early enough to get to the military academy and to get her photo identification processed along with a short employment form. At the deep end of the pool, another class assembled to jump into the water with full packs and uniforms and swim to the surface as part of survival training.

Day three passed quietly. On day four, I began demonstrating water safety techniques to a class of military instructors. Those instructors would then teach the swimming techniques to the cadets watching to assure the correct methodology. Day five through day twenty-two passed almost as day four had, except one event toward the end of the twenty-second day changed Marcia’s direction again.

A female cadet had done the survival portion of her test perfectly, except she had lost her identity tags from around her neck. She had remained behind while her class went to change into dry uniforms. Then jumped back into the pool to search for her tags. Finding them, she put them around her neck and tried to push off toward the surface. Her battle dress pant laces got sucked into the drains in the deep end she could not surface.

I was up top walking to the doors when Kivar yelled and waved, “She did not come up, Marcia, she did not come up,” and pointed to the middle of the pool, deep end. I dove back into the pool at the bottom and located the girl.

Putting my mouth on the cadet’s I blew air into the other girl to give a few more seconds to her rescue. Working the belt and buttons on the girl’s pants, Marcia helped her to kick free of the bottom of her uniform and pulled her to the surface. The cadet’s classmates, noticing she was missing, had returned to the pool to witness the cross-chest carry of their classmate by the Apprentice Aquatics Instructor.

“Play along,” I whispered when the girl nodded. Marcia said, “Okay, cadet, that is how you extract a victim who has become entangled in an underwater obstacle, any other questions?” The Cadet wisely answered, “No, ma’am,” followed by, “Just one, ma’am, can you get my pants back for me before they get sucked into the drain?”

In seconds the pants were in the grateful hands of the Cadet. I was on my way, still drying off, to pick up my identification. It looked like a dog tag of two metal discs hung from a chain. One contained a microchip with data concerning the wearer and a locator that used satellite technology to pinpoint a military member’s location.

The other had my image laser engraved on one side, an electronic chip embedded that will allow me access to several buildings and offices on the academy grounds, including the pool, 24/7.

As not considered jewelry necessary for her employment, the tags didn’t break my vow of public penance. Instead, they had become my uniform. I left them with the building guard as I entered and gathered them from the guard when she was done in the pool and going to other areas of the post.

[barelin]

My twenty-third day of employment at the Military Academy of the Duchy of Danubia started and ended differently for me. When the Apprentice Aquatics Instructor arrived alone today as I finally felt confident in making all of the transfers on the trolley system the gate guard asked me to report not to the pool but to the Vice Commandant’s office.

Lt. Dracovv was sitting outside the Vice Commandant’s office when I was at the door he instructed me, “When we go inside, be sure to maintain a position of attention and look the Vice Commandant directly in the eyes,” Drakov directed.

Upon entering the office, the voice from inside directed them to do so. The platoon sergeant of the cadre of cadets and Dracovv were waiting for me. “Were you training the cadet before that cadet needed to be recovered from the water?”

The Vice Commandant of Cadets was female, mid-forties, and attractive in a way not usually associated with a uniform and offered formal greetings. “Shevat, we would like to reward you for saving this cadet’s life. She has explained to us what she did, and she knows it was not behavior acceptable to students at the national military academy. At the end of this class session, she is to be switched, twenty-five on her naked posterior. What we need to know from you is what you mean by, ‘play along?”

When she spoke, it was carefully phrased, “Ma’am. Noticing one of the female cadets struggling in the deep end of the pool, I dove down, provided a rescue breath, and undid her trousers. Her legs broke the surface and the rest of her cadre filed into the pool area. Since this was a rescue, use the effort as a rescue demonstration.

“I said ‘play along,’ hoping the cadet would stay in the rescued victim position and allow me to show the swimmer cross-chest carry to the rest of her class. Admittedly, I also hoped the cadet would face less severe consequences for her actions. Poorly chosen words as they were, based on the fact she had nearly drowned and needed to be recovered from the water,” I concluded.

“Your heroic use of your training to rescue this cadet has earned you a commendation, Instructor. Offsetting this is your compassionate attempt to avoid being punished for her actions. That recklessly endangered her own life. Instructor, this normally would carry a fifty-switch penalty. However, I have offset forty strokes due to your heroic action. Instructor Shevat, please make yourself available at the end of the class day for necessary discipline – dismissed.”

“Well, that went better for you,” Lt. Drakov said softly to me outside the office building.

“Why do I still get ten lashes?” I asked.

“Could have been fifty and then dismissed from the academy. The Vice Commandant saw the truth and compassion in your story and decided to take it easy on both of you.

“The cadet will remain with her cadre and graduate on time with her class and will wear what all of us would consider a badge of honor on your rump for the next few days. You tried to save the girl twice, succeeded once and partially the second time, you have our admiration,” Dracovv concluded.

“Well, let me get my work in before this happens,” I smiled at Drakov and headed toward the pool. When I arrived poolside, I found the same class of cadets waiting there as had been at the pool when the female cadet almost drowned herself. “Please, Instructor Shevat,” said the platoon sergeant, a male in his late twenties, “demonstrate how you rescued Cadet Kara.”

Marcia smiled and thought, ‘Well, why not? After all, I am here to instruct and train, not just to get my work in.’ I said, “Sergeant, please point out your weakest swimmers.”

“Now, do the same with your strongest swimmers,” I ordered. The sergeant looked confused. Sent another seven cadets to the left, leaving thirteen cadets and the sergeant standing in the center.

“Sergeant, your strongest and weakest cadets will undress to proper swimming attire,” Drew laughs from the class, “while the remainder of the class and yourself will report here in full combat gear and boots in five minutes – dismissed.”

Calling the twelve cadets to her side, Marcia outlined how the training would proceed, then individually showed the twelve cadets how to carry out the rescue drill. “One of you will have to go twice, and I will work with the sergeant myself,” I concluded.

Cadet Kara, the girl who was disciplined that afternoon and one of those designated a ‘weak swimmer,’ volunteered to do double duty. “I know I can do this,” Kara declared. I scanned the eyes of the other eleven rescue swimmers in training; none offered a hint that anyone else should take Kara’s place.

“Okay, I’ll be there if you need me.” I drew on the confidence of the class in her decision. Five minutes later, the fourteen ‘victims’ appeared back in the pool area. “Sergeant, please climb the ladder on the one-and-one-half-meter diving board, turn and face away from the pool, and walk backward until you fall off,” I instructed.

As the sergeant struggled up the ladder too narrow for a field pack, Marcia explained to the rest of the class that they would each follow. The cadet falling off the diving board had only one thing to do. Sink to the bottom of the pool. The rescuer was to call ‘Victim in the water’ to alert others to be ready to assist.

Would then dive into the deep end and give the victim one rescue breath. Then using the cross-chest carry method I had taught the twelve cadets, the rescuer would bring the victim to the surface and the side of the pool. The others would help drag the victim out. “Sergeant, when you’re ready, begin,” Marcia called and watched the sergeant step off the board and plunge into the deepest portion of the pool.

A deep breath, a smooth dive, a nose pinch on her victim followed by a breath of air into his mouth, a cross-chest carry position followed by strong scissor kicks brought the sergeant and me to the surface. Using my legs and right arm, I brought the sergeant to the poolside; the cadets grabbed his arms and hauled him out of the water.

A male cadet was next off the board, the exercise continued, and Kara was the rescuer. The procedure went smoothly. The class rotation was Kara’s second turn at a rescue, this victim being a female not much bigger than Kara herself. The female cadet went off the diving board and hit the water awkwardly. I was immediately at the poolside in case there was trouble.

Kara dove to the bottom and found her victim on her side. Reviewing everything I had said and shown the class, Kara shook the girl and got no response. Alright, temporary loss of consciousness, breathing rate would be slower. Pinch nostrils and hold a hand over the mouth so the victim cannot reflexively breathe water. Get into position and push off with your legs. Now start scissor kicking and using your free arm. Surface in three seconds, two, one, broaching, then breathe, Kara, breathe.

“Loss of consciousness, possible aspiration of water, I have a neck pulse,” Kara was yelling to the class when her victim opened her eyes and whispered, “Now that is the way to do a rescue, girlfriend.”

With the cadet out of the pool, the wet-uniformed half of the class retreated to the locker rooms to put on dry casual uniforms. I had nothing to shave and would simply wait the punishment time. The parade ground was full of cadets and staff information to witness the punishments.

Cadet Kara was brought out, in the formation of her cadre, in her place, but nude among her fellow cadets. Her sergeant ordered her two steps forward and presented her to the Academy Vice Commandant for discipline. While reading the charges Kara was strapped into a device that bent her over and spread her legs slightly apart. It held her firmly in place.

Her sergeant then applied in even strokes spaced thirty seconds apart, twenty-five slashes from a leather switch from the coccyx down her buttocks to her upper thighs and ending mid-way to the knee. The strokes were hard and evenly spaced and the welts raised were sufficient to suggest a return to class tomorrow would be uncomfortable if not downright unpleasant. Releasing Cadet Kara to her cadre, where she would remain at attention.

Vice Commandant then called for me to be brought forward for punishment. Lt. Drakov accompanied me and presented me to the Vice Commandant. My single charge of attempted mitigation of a cadet’s breach of protocol and the penalty of ten strokes.

Marcia was buckled into the same device used on the cadet before her as her superior was the Vice Commandant. She took off her dress tunic to allow freedom of movement. “Instructor Shevat, never have I had so defined a target for the administration of punishment,” the Vice Commandant remarked.

I thought for a moment as the first stroke of the switch struck me and remembered my pure white backside from being covered by my bikini bottom was now going to be a purplish blotch of bruises. I counted out loud as each bite of the leather switch took its toll upon her flesh. On reaching the tenth, I felt the device adjust to help me stand up correctly, then release me. I turned toward the Vice Commandant, knelt, kissed the toe of the commandant’s boot, and said, “Thank you for correcting my misguided behavior, Ma’am.”

“Protocol did not require that, Instructor Shevat, yet, I feel you have even more won the hearts of the men and women of this academy by your doing so.” The Vice Commandant then instructed Lt. Drakov to escort the newly punished Apprentice Aquatics Instructor to her office before being dismissed for the day. “Where did you learn punishment behavior, Instructor Shevat?” the Vice Commandant asked, “Whoever taught you, taught you well.”

“As you may know, Commandant, my university offers a two-semester course preparing students for the exchange program with the National University of Danubia. The instructor of that course was a sociologist named Sarah Bushnell. She believes the students should be fully aware of all aspects of Danubian life before accepting the exchange.

“That included exposure to public nudity, religious public penance, criminal collaring, and corporal punishment. In the final weeks before accepting the exchange student position, I was switched to five lashes for a demonstration of what might happen. Some dropped out of the program at that point. Most of the students dropping out were male students. Those of us left knew what to expect, Ma’am.”

“Very well. Your work here thus far has been excellent, with nothing but positive remarks about your water safety and rescue training programs. I hope our relationship shall continue beyond the start of the university year when the rest of the cadet battalion returns from summer field games. Lt. Drakov will see to your arriving home safely.”

I turned to Lt. Drakov and meekly asked him,” Lieutenant, by the way, she hired me and switched me, but I’ve never caught the Vice Commandant’s name.”

“Oh, I think you’d recognize the name when you hear it,” Dracov chuckled.

“Well?” I uttered sarcastically, “Are you going to tell me?”

“Her name is Colonel Magda Dakota, my mother,” Drakov chuckled again.

Resisting the temptation to rub her sore rear, Marcia muttered, “Your Mom sure swings a mean switch.”

“She learned taming my two brothers and me as we grew up,” Dracov grinned.

The pair reached the motor pool, where the Vice-commandant’s driver and car awaited them.

A much shorter while later than the trolley and transfer system allowed, I was at the Siminov front door saying good night to the young officer in full uniform. To kiss him or not to kiss him, I wondered. What was the Danubian protocol on that? I had the question answered by Ivan Simonov coming to the door and saying, “Lieutenant, if you wish to court this young woman, you will begin by having dinner at my family table on Sunday.”

Feeling dragged into the house by Ivan’s strong right arm, I grinned back at Dracov. She shrugged and said, “See you at work tomorrow?” His response, “Definitely!” thrilled her heart.

Ivanka arrived home, saw my backside, and took me into our shared water closet. A tube of cream, some of which Ivanka liberally applied to my welts, was shown to me. Use it once daily before bedtime until the bruising recedes. To say the rest of the evening was uneventful compared to the day is an understatement.

[barelin]

Chapter 6. Help, I’m Drowning

Arriving at the academy gates the following morning, The guard instructed Marcia to go directly to the Vice Commandant’s office. “Go right into her office, she’s expecting you,” came from the uniformed receptionist. Knocking, I saw a light breakfast buffet on the table nearest the Vice Commandant’s window and a male officer standing nearby. The male looked like an older version of Lt. Drakov, and I had another of her moments.

“Brigadier Mykel Drakov, I would very much like you to make the acquaintance of Instructor Marcia Shevat,” Col. Drakov introduced the pair. “Instructor Shevat, my husband Brigadier Mykel Drakov, our Mykel is named after.”

I bowed, hands at my side. As I was still a public penitent and nude, I could not salute. The usual protocol of kneeling before a superior was waived in the military, as was the kissing of the person administering punishment’s boots. It was both viewed as not within the military traditions. The Brigadier acknowledged the formal greeting with a nod and gestured toward the table.

“First turn around, Instructor, so the Brigadier may see your discipline completed,” the Vice Commandant chuckled. I complied with the order, the ten purple stripes across her otherwise white backside showing up dramatically. She then took a cup of tea and a pear from the tray near the window and sat on a pillowed and toweled chair.

“I am a military man and not one for mincing words, the point the colonel wishes brought to your attention,” the Brigadier voiced in a quiet yet authoritative tone.” Our son is attracted to you, Instructor Shevat, and has asked our permission to court you. We have two concerns that we would hope for you to assuage. First, do you have feelings for our son? Second, would you be willing to trade your life in America for one as a Danubian housewife? The relationship settles into one of serious permanence?”

“I genuinely like your son. He is sweet and intelligent, makes me laugh, and taught me a great deal about the military culture in Danubia. I would be honored if he wished to court me. As to your second question, Sir, I have no answer. I have not yet begun my course work for the first semester of my exchange student status, and while I love the regimen here at the academy. I do not know if I could balance being courted, instructing here, and taking course work there.” I spoke honestly.

“We have spoken to the exchange student counselor at the university, Marcia, “Magda Drakov stated, “they have no objections to you doing your course work here, as your study of athletics and kinesiology would be the same in either institution. You will have access to our pool for your training whenever you need it, and work on coursework can also be done here in Danubian culture and history.

“Your job as Instructor here entitles you to take classes at the academy free of charge in exchange for your Aquatics Training,” added Mykel Drakov. “So if you want to stay in Danubia beyond your student visa time, you have a job and schooling to justify your extension.”

“A very tempting and interesting offer indeed, Brigadier,” I turned to the Vice Commandant, “How many courses would I need to take here to qualify me as a student?”

“Three semesters will give you the twelve contact hours your university requires,” the Vice Commandant replied. “During the week, we would like you to accept housing in the unmarried female staff barracks, as academy hours are more erratic than our public transportation allows. Our military priest and priestess assure us that you may continue your public penance while with the Siminov family and be absolved of it while on campus. Therefore, except for your poolside teaching duties, we would like you to wear this.” She handed me a garment bag.

Marcia removed the garment. It was a modest caftan, in the military brown of the Danubian armed forces, the mandarin collar at the neck, pinched to a princess’s waist and coming to the floor, stopping just at my ankles. A military belt for the loops above the hips of the caftan.

The Danubian script letter I was on the epaulets, where the rank insignia would have been, and two medals hung from the left breast pocket. One was the Commendation of Heroic Action in Saving a Life award for the incident with Cadet Kara. The other was the Danubian Academician Second Class for her development of the aquatic training and water safety program. Soft fore and aft cap with the Danubian military griffon crest on the right and the letter I on the left completed the look.

Marcia slipped the caftan on, still barefooted, and was surprised at the lightweight feel of the fabric, which looked so coarsely military but felt like silk against her body. “As a symbolic gesture toward your penance, you may remain barefoot until the cold weather sets in after the Day of the Dead at the Fall Equinox.” The Vice Commandant added.

Giving the first to chest salute and having it returned by her superiors for the first time (nude penitents do not salute) felt odd to me, another protocol I would have to remember in the future. Worse as she left, the enlisted receptionist immediately jumped to her feet and saluted. I returned it and told the girl to return to her duties.

Mykel Drakov, Lieutenant, Danubian military, looked at me in my uniform and did not know whether to laugh or to cry. To laugh for the sheer joy of the woman for whom he had affection being in the uniform of his life’s work or cry as now he could no longer openly stare at my beautiful body and drink in the woman whose essence made his life worthwhile.

I saluted him, and he responded in kind. How best to normalize things with the now clothed Instructor? Ask me if I had enough time for a cup of tea in the officers’ club. The next shock was bumping into Cadet Kara and her cadre. Salutes, “Doc-Doc Instructor Shevat,” echoed from the group. Lt. Drakov and I entered the Officer’s Club. This was a new experience since nude penitents could not be in the officers’ club.

Over tea and biscuits, the couple spoke of all aspects of their duties. I explained my incorporation of water safety, water rescue, and basic lifeguard techniques in the various cadet classes. I mentioned that several cadets had approached her, with permission, about starting intramural competitive swims. I asked Mykel if this was acceptable in society.

Which physical culture was approved; competitive athletics were almost unknown? Mykel sipped his tea and thought for a moment, then suggested, “Why not come to dinner on Sunday at my parent’s, and we’ll all discuss this at that time?”

“I should go see the Siminov family it’s been almost three weeks since we’ve broken bread, and I hate to admit it, but I miss Kivar and the twins,” I responded. “We shall go together and visit your host family for an early lunch then, Marcia, and return to the academy for a late dinner with my parents.” Mykel made it sound so final that I simply nodded in agreement. I had three more aquatic training classes to finish that day and five scheduled for Saturday, and then she was free. Mykel was taking a group of senior cadets on a night exercise and would be back on Sunday after 0800 hours. So, it was agreed. Phone calls were made and the Siminovs and the Drakovs would both have guests at meals on Sunday.

[barelin]

Chapter 7. Dining Out

The trolley ride from the academy to the Siminov home took the usual two transfers, followed by a short walk to the family front door. Unsure of the protocol of entering while accompanied by Mykel, I knocked and waited for someone to answer, and it happened to be Kivar. Quick-witted as always, Kivar yelled into the house, “Ivanka, there are two people in uniform at the door who wish to speak to you,” he then grinned and winked at me.

Ivanka came scampering to the door, her pubic region freshly shaved. Marcia realized it was near the start of the university semester. Ivanka had either just received her second twenty-five lash switching or was due for it tomorrow.

“Stand for inspection,” Mykel snapped the order, playing along with Kivar, and Ivanka followed the order about facing and showing the two uniformed guests her bruised and welted bottom and thighs.

I giggled and blurted out, “Got you good this time, you naughty school girl?”

“Oh,” Ivanka feigned anger when she realized it was Marcia in the female uniform, “It is only you two. Come in and make yourselves comfortable.”

Kivar, beside himself laughing, ran to get out of his older sister’s sight. Seeing Momma and Poppa Siminov in the kitchen, I quickly introduced Mykel and then asked if they might use Ivanka’s room for a moment.

Both girls excused themselves while leaving the door open and removed the uniform to be as nude as the rest of the Siminov family.

“Ah, that is more comfortable,” Mykel stretched and grinned. He asked Kivar, “Have you ever thought of a career in the military?”

Ivanka muttered, “No, he is destined to go on stage at the Socrates club as a comedian.”

Brought howls of laughter from the adults, although the twins did not get the joke. Ivanka promised to explain things later, alone, and this satisfied Kaleen, and Martina was more fascinated by their military guest than a lame joke at the moment.

“What are your intentions toward my daughter, Marcia Shevat, Lt. Mykel Drakov?” The question came after a dessert of fruit and tea while the family sat in the dining room.

“Ivan Siminov, I am here formally requesting your permission, and that of your family, to court your daughter Marcia Shevat,” Mykel answered formally.

“You may do so in this home and of your parents. You may also do so while well chaperoned and in public.” Papa Siminov gave the formal blessing.

Mykel would have to send a gift, by courier, to the Siminov by Wednesday of the following week to acknowledge his honorable intentions. He has chosen a family gift that would be both unique and one the family would not expect.

After exchanging goodbyes, the couple, now again in uniform, left to take the double trolley trip back to the academy and Mykel’s parents’ residence. Dinner at the Drakov’s was more formal, with orderlies serving several courses of food and polite conversation held to a minimum. Talk about duty, class schedule, and cadet disciplining arose, including me having to take the college course in the proper administration of corporal punishment.

She was to continue in her post as Instructor of Aquatics training and Water Safety. Her courses in Leadership, Organization, and Structure of Danubian Society, and Military Law and Protocol had been going very well for Marcia. To set up the college course to appreciate the different cultural backgrounds the American student/instructor brought to the class discussion.

They honored my input on many topics that otherwise would have resulted in the Danubian cadets resorting to rote memorization of facts. Brigadier Drakov informed me that the cadet officer corps had asked me to be named an “Instructor of Merit” for my work to improve the cadets’ physical well-being and motivation toward water safety.

The Vice Commandant added that the Officer Instructors had requested me be given full Instructor status following the end of this semester and the brevet rank of Signet, the lowest commissioned officer rank in the Danubian military.

“Would you think about extending your visa from a student stay to a working visa status,” Colonel Drakov asked, “and signing a three-year Instructor’s contract with the Academy?”

“Wow, that is a lot of stuff to think about,” Marcia exclaimed, “I’m honored that your people think so highly of me, Brigadier, Colonel, and I will strive to meet or exceed the standard I have already set in my work as Aquatics Instructor. However, I am only a second-semester Junior in my American university and do not see how I’m qualified to do what you perceive me doing.”

“Marcia Shevat, in conjunction with you still being a student and working as an instructor at this academy. Next semester you can complete all your course work here at the academy. Combined with the course of your American credit will add sufficient credits and practical experience to graduate from the Military Academy of Danubia, undoubtedly with honors.” Brigadier Drakov offered.

Mykel Drakov then cut into the conversation with,” Besides all that, Marcia Shevat, my heart would break if you were not to stay. I’m sure the Siminov family would feel the same way.”

I laughed and said, “Kivar is already disappointed, and did you see the look on his face when he saw me in uniform instead of naked the way he is used to seeing me?”

“We make excuses for teenage boys,” Mykel chuckled, “all adult males pass through that stage.”

“A gaggle of giggling teenage girls is almost as bad,” I noted, “and I’ve seen some of the first-year cadets. Ogling one another on the poolside while waiting for their turns at lessons. I guess that sort of attraction is built into us all, or none of us would be here.”

“Using that as a segue, Marcia Shevat,” Colonel Drakov smiled, her voice almost a whisper, “what are your intentions toward our son?”

‘Oh my, now I’m committed,’ Marcia thought, and then said, “I would, very much, request the honor of being allowed to see your son, Mykel, on a regular formal basis.”

“Mother and Father,” Mykel interjected, “I have already asked permission of the Siminovs to court Marcia formally.”

“So be it then,” the elder male Drakov pronounced, “From this day, you are welcome in this house as the official guest of our son, we offer you our hospitality.”

“Mykel,” asked his mother, “have you arranged a gift for the Siminovs?”

“Yes, Mother,” rank is dropped as a family matter, not a military one, “I have. Although it took some negotiation between the University and the office of the Spokesperson for the Criminal, I believe my gift is more than adequate.”

His mother smiled. I thought of putting two and two together and was pleased with Mykel’s thoughtfulness.

[barelin]

Nine thirty in the morning, the first case on the court docket, Wednesday, is a Mitigation Hearing in the case of Ivanka Siminov. Beth-Anne Takinva, the Spokeswoman for the Criminal, Professor Wilhelmina Novotna, and Lt. Mykel Drakov stood before the Judge in the Criminal courts, each expressing the same story from a different perspective.

The Professor stated the act of false swearing that she submitted the wrong theme paper in her hands. Ivanka might better serve to accept this matter as a case of carelessness to deal with on university terms. Rather than as a criminal matter. Hindsight being her perspective, she explained to the judge that she did not take the totality of circumstance into account.

“Your Honor,” Professor Novotna continued, “when I was a junior instructor, I carelessly reviewed a paper and graded it without assuring myself it was indeed the student’s work. The following semester I read the same paperwork word for word handed in by another student. I brought the matter to the attention of my Department Chairman. After reviewing the paper, he told me this same paper had been circulating among students for several years.

“It was then, Your Honor, that I instituted the pledge as part of my classes. With that oath in my official capacity, if a student swore that the work was theirs I had the duty to pursue the falsehood and prosecute it to the fullest. No Danubian likes being lied to, particularly not one in a position of authority. I have to hold a very tight rein on the students in my classes. Despite this, at least one student a year tries to get away with passing another person’s work as their own.

“In the matter of Ivanka Siminov, I believe I may have misplaced my reason and substituted my legalistic application of the rule and the law in its stead. A reasonable woman would have taken the proper theme and graded it, not the draft. I admit I was unreasonable in this matter with Ivanka Siminov not to receive further punishment born of that unreasonableness.”

Beth-Anne Takinva, acting as her client’s voice, noted that her client had accepted the consequences set by Professor Novotna. Despite knowing she had the correct paper in hand and had taken the suspension from the university, lost exchange student status, and the criminal penalty as an obedient child of Danubian society. Her right to protest the false swearing charge had been limited to the plea-bargaining gained at her original sentencing.

Mykel Drakov acted as a character witness. He cited the many visits to the Siminov home with his American lady friend Marcia Shevat, during which he discussed with the extended family and Ivanka the events of the day leading to her arrest and the family entering public penance. He offered that the young woman was not criminally minded and had no duplicity in her life whatsoever. He asked that she be returned to full citizen status and allowed to return to school in the January term,” If Your Honor so decides.”

All three of the plaintiffs asked for the same thing: Ivanka’s sentence was commuted to time served and she was returned to full citizen status the morning following the Day of the Dead celebration. The judge, swayed by the honesty of the Professor, the effectiveness of the Spokeswoman, and the testimony of the military officials, agreed to end Ivanka’s sentence immediately following the ritual cleansing the morning after the Day of the Dead.

Following the court case, Mykel Drakov met me for lunch in an outdoor café in the central square of Danubia City. His reason for appearing in court was not a secret between the couple and was not open for discussion. I knew that until Mykel had the appeals court document in his hand a petition for leniency might yet fail in the appeals court. Therefore, waiting before even openly discussing the matter seemed a wise choice.

We discussed the participation of me in the annual Day of the Dead ceremony. All penitents and criminals were required to march the ritualistic route around the city. Mykel explained to me that many who did so feel a profound spiritual presence and gained insight from the spirits of the ancestors as to the participant’s life path.

“Some lead to see old hurts in the past that have caused their present to be imperfect; others see glimpses into a future that might be, if they set their feet on a particular life path in this present, while, sadly, others see nothing at all.”

“So, at the end of the day, I might see nothing but learn much about myself?” I rephrased Mykel’s statement. The young military officer nodded and smiled.

Twenty days later, penitents and criminals, numbering 2300 in all formed in the central square of the capital city to receive a coating of white body paint and then daubs of black to represent the rotting physical body on death to free the soul on its eternal journey. All were issued torches and torch holders sent to walk around the city perimeter clockwise while the other half marched counter-clockwise. All would pause for food and rest at daybreak and the halfway point and would complete their journey the following night as the sun set, ending in front of the temple at sunrise.

The groups would march in silence, each keeping eyes on the buttocks of the person in front of them to clear their minds sufficiently to catch a glimpse of what the spirits of the ancestors might wish to share with them. I was walking with the Siminov family. Ivan and his wife led the family, then Ivanka, then me, with Kivar just behind me.

Seven hours into the first night’s march, I heard a voice she recognized. After determining it could not be anyone in the line of marchers, I listened intently.Then I heard the voice joined by a vision. Visions of a family picnicking along the Danube River, a toddler wandering in the streamside, slipping in the mud, and being swept away in the current.I stripped off my military caftan and sandals, plunging into the water, and clutching onto the little arm of the frightened babe.

I was about to sink beneath the water and swim to the bank. Too tired to pull myself from the water I felt the strong hands of other Danubian police and military hauling the child onto dry land. The vision ended as I entered the rest camp. A Priestess took my torch and directed me to the kitchen tent, where a traditional meal awaited the marchers. I thought to ask Mykel about the currents in the river where the public park and beaches are and whether any swimmers’ buoys if someone fell in.

A short walk to the sleep tents found an empty bed awaiting her beside Ivanka with Kivar on the other side and slept a dreamless sleep until awakened by the priests to continue the march. A period of repainting the body make-up followedby lighting the torches before the marchers set out again as the sun set.

It was midnight when the voice came to her again, father, “Little girl, remember your training, remember your discipline, and follow your heart.” The voice ended and was replaced by a horrible roaring of engines and the sound of small arms fire. I looked about and realized this was all in my mind’s eye. There was no perceived threat nearby. Yet she could not shake the feeling that what she was now seeing was about to play itself out somewhere in the Danubian countryside shortly.

The march ended in the courtyard of the main Temple just as day broke above the eastern wall of that great imposing building. Blessings followed by the washing off of the body paint in the waters of the river which ended the religious portion of the ceremony. The legal was where criminals received their capes and boots for the winter which would be held in front of the Ministry of Justice building in downtown Danubia City.

For penitents ending their period of obligation, the priests and priestesses came to remove the temple collars on the steps of the Temple, then presented the absolved penitent with a simple heavy cotton hooded robe to wear home. Ivanka went to Danubia City to see her Spokeswoman. The Siminov family and I knelt on the Temple steps awaiting release by the priests.

“What did you see, my child?” the Priestess who came to unlock and remove my collar asked, “From the look on your face something has been revealed to you.”

“It was more a feeling, Ma’am,” Marcia replied, “and I heard a voice, clearly, in my head.”

“Did that voice tell you anything?”

I looked up at the priestess and nodded. He said, “Little Girl, remember your training, remember your discipline, and follow your heart.”

“Who was he?” The priestess kept drawing out Marcia’s story.

“Both the words and the voice were my father’s, but he died when I was much younger,” I let my voice trail off, then said, “Oh, I have had a visitation from my ancestors, haven’t I?”

By now the collar had come off and Marcia, still kneeling, awaited a hooded robe, which the priestess held but had not relinquished. “Tell me the rest, please,” she asked looking deeply into Marcia’s eyes.

“The first night of the march, toward daybreak, I had a vision that was so real it shook me to the point I could not tell anyone. I saw a small child being swept up into the rapids of the river. I jumped in to save the child and was barely able to fight the current, so strongly it pulled against me. I was able to bring the child to the edge of the riverbank where several soldiers and policemen reached out to take her from me.

“Then I was trapped in the current, swimming as strongly as I could but not moving at all. Nor could any of the hands reaching for me grab me to lift me out of the current. The trance broke as we reached camp and I did not get the same vision the second night. The second night the voice of my father came to me and then, oddly, the sound of roaring engines and gunfire.” Marcia was relieved to have blurted it all out to the priestess who responded only by handing Marcia the hooded cloak.

“Keep your head covered in the hood until you reach your home,” the priestess instructed, “and come tomorrow at 11 a.m. to visit me. We shall sit by the area of contemplation and reflection and talk further.” With that she was gone, to assist other penitents being released from their collars or listening to others who felt they needed to remain so.

The three Siminovs and me, heads covered and bowed, retreated from the Temple area and walked to the Ministry of Justice building. Their interesting sight awaited me. A fully clothed Ivanka Siminov, in the traditional Danubian ceremonial costume of a long-pleated skirt, white mutton-leg sleeve blouse, and shorts waited for her family with open arms and a smile on her face. As seriously as she could muster, I deadpanned, “Ivanka, I didn’t recognize you with clothes on,” which drew laughter from the rest of the Siminov family.

“Marcia, I must tell you that Spokeswoman Takinva revealed a condition of my remission of sentence to me today. I had not known before,” Ivanka sighed, “I need you to act as my proxy for this as I do not feel I can do it. Yet someone in the family must. On the day at the end of this semester, when I was scheduled to receive my next twenty-five strokes with the switch, Doctor Novotna is to present herself to receive fifty strokes. To make up for the fifty I had already received unjustly. As you hold the authority to switch as an Army Officer Instructor, I ask you to be my proxy.”

How does someone respond to this? I thought to herself, then she remembered the words her father had spoken that first night: follow your training, follow your discipline, follow your heart. By accepting this duty, she would be attesting to all three of her father’s conditions.

“Ivanka, I shall dutifully perform this act as your proxy,” I accepted.

[barelin]

The following morning, precisely at 11 a.m., Marcia presented herself, in uniform, before the priestess with whom she had conversed during the decollering ceremony. She presented the cleaned and neatly folded linen, hooded robe to the priestess and together they walked down a narrow path to the bench of reflection which overlooks the river and is set in the holiest of ground within the Danubian Republic.

“My child, I have reflected on your words and meditated over their meaning. I believe that you did receive the words of your father and that he even now walks the life path set before you at your side.

“I also believe your river vision to be a parable for your life in the Duchy. You will save what is new in your life while also seeing your old self swept away by the events that will form your future.

“As to the loud engine noises and gunfire, I fear the Creator has not blessed me with the answer to that part of your visions.” The priestess then asked me if she had any questions.

“Many questions, Servant of the Ancients and the Creator. May I return here to speak of them with you as I find a voice to ask them?” I responded.

“If your life path draws you to my door one hundred times, you will find it open to you one hundred and one,” the priestess replied.

A benediction and exchanges of goodbye followed and I returned down the steps of the Temple grounds alone and pondered the priestess’s words.

On my return to the Military Academy, I found she had a lighter schedule than usual as a day of rest had been declared following the Day of The Dead celebration. She decided to spend the time with a good three-kilometer swim, as she had not worked out in the fast and meditation period before the Day of The Dead.

Going to the staff locker room I removed my caftan and belt, kicked off my sandals, and was ready to begin my workout. Looking down at myself I saw that after four months of neglect my pubic area was beginning to fill in as I had not seen it in over five years. Still only wispy from years of waxing, I doubted I had many live roots to provide hair there any longer, but it was an attempt at this culture’s standard. I was sure the hair on my head had come in better, that I could feel it as I ran my fingers through it and brushed it. I had long ago learned that Danubians relied on each other for hair braiding and as makeup was not allowed and one could brush unbraided hair without the benefit of a mirror, mirrors were in scant supply in Danubia.

The rest of my body thanks to the laser treatments my parents had gotten me, remained bare. I had finally lost the last of my tan lines and was now an even light-toast color all over mu body. I envied the twins, who by summer’s end had gotten themselves so deeply and evenly browned that they looked like good pumpernickel bread. With duties and responsibilities I had not been able to spend that much time working on my tan, but wandering about nude for four months had done the work naturally.

“Instructor Shevat, what troubles you?” a small voice asked from behind her.

“Ah, Cadet Kara, you startled me,” I had turned to see the owner of the voice, “and the reason I was so perplexed is I cannot tell without seeing my hair if it is long enough now to begin braiding it.”

“I often braid my barracks mates’ hair for them, Instructor, and if you would not think it a breach of protocol, perhaps I could try to do yours?” Cadet Kara offered.

“How’s your bottom,” I asked, “That Sergeant knew what he was doing.”

“Healing nicely, Ma’am,” Cadet Kara said, “Bruises should be completely gone by the Harvest Feast.”

“I’m glad for you that your life path has found you a quick healer,” I turned around and exposed the fact that some four weeks post switching my welts were still raised and angry looking. “I fear I was not so fortunate.”

“Ma’am, permission to speak freely,” I nodded, giving the girl her voice, and she continued, “Often I am told when the punishment calls for fewer strokes, they are given with maximum force.” Cadet Kara stated, “I guess the Vice Commandant wanted you to remember the lesson you were being taught, Ma’am.”

“Well, I certainly shall,” I stated. Then added, “Let us get our workouts completed, then perhaps I will let you try to do something with my hair.”

Cadet Norlina Kara had gone from a weak swimmer fearful of water over her head to a mediocre swimmer in time trials yet more confident in deep water. She could not keep up with Marcia Shevat. She was lagging further behind with each lap but persisted in swimming a kilometer and a half before ending her workout. Four weeks ago, Cadet Kara could barely complete one lap.

She sat on the pool edge watching her instructor cut through the water like a knife in warm butter until Marcia completed her last two kilometers. Only then did she say, “Instructor, might I suggest a warm shower, a shampoo, and my humble attempt to braid your hair?”

“You most certainly may so do, Cadet, our paths seem to be running together at the moment and I would welcome you becoming the instructor as I have never done my hair in this way before.” I smiled as she reversed the roles from instructor to student.

“I feel strange being in the shower room with only another woman,” Norlina blurted from under the spray of her shower head, “Usually there are male cadets in here with us.”

“Oh, I can see that in a culture where nudity is common public practice, after all, we came from the pool naked, and now we are showering that way as well, but does it not bother you that males are in here bathing with you?” I inquired.

“No, Ma’am,” the Cadet stated. “As most contact between same-sex persons is forbidden by the Ancients, it is comforting to have a boy nearby if you need a neck massage or your back washed. If two girls or two boys get too closely connected it could be presumed that they were lovers and that would cause Temple discipline to be enacted.”

“Oh, so there are no homosexual or lesbian Danubians,” I asked in a tone of disbelief.

“Surely, there ARE,” Norlina acknowledged, “but they manage to keep their practices secret or if caught they are disciplined in the Temple courtyard and then expelled from Danubia with no legal right to return.”

“Ah, we call that exile in my country,” Marcia stated, “deportation and exile.”

“Yes, exactly,” Norlina responded, “before the reforms put in place by the duke administration, lesbians caught in the act could be sentenced by the criminal courts to a term of ritual prostitution in the Temple backcourts. They were called Comfort Courtesans, and for a fee paid to the priests any adult male who had no life partner could use them.

“That was one of the many things the reformers changed,” Norlina continued, “even more common are homosexual men and lesbians marrying. Then behind the doors of the marriage home, they entertain persons of like temperament.”

“Wow, how do the priests take that behavior?” I asked.

“Officially, what happens inside the marriage home is a private affair between a husband, his wife, and the Ancients,” Cadet Kara replied. “The risk is always there that a nosy neighbor will peek through the shutters and see something and report it. Some prefer to take the annual three-week mandatory rest period, you call it a holiday, I think, overseas and practice their perversions elsewhere out of the sight and reach of the Danubian clergy.” By this time the pair had dried themselves and dressed. I had left my hair wet so that Norlina could attempt to comb it into sections and begin the tight braiding process. Norlina’s nimble fingers had Marcia’s hair in plaits in fifteen minutes. Parted down the middle, Marcia’s hair now held two semi-circular braids curled neatly over her ears.

“As it grows more, Instructor, I or whomever you wish to redo your hair, can add to the braiding. However, for now, you look perfectly Danubian, Ma’am.” Cadet Kara smiled pleased with the work she had done.

“Thank you, Cadet, for your effort, your time, and for allowing me to share this portion of your life’s path with you,” I acknowledged. “I shall depend upon you through the end of this semester to remind me when my hair needs to be redone. I wish to maintain a Danubian military appearance now that I have sufficient hair to allow it.”

“I accept it as my honored task to perform such duties for you, Instructor,” the cadet stated.

Status and rank would always keep them distant, yet strangely Norlina and I would be linked in comradeship for many years to come. Dressed and coiffed, the pair saluted each other at the door of the natatorium locker room and went their separate ways.

Lt. Mykel Drakov embarrassed himself with a shocked intake of air when he saw Marcia Shevat exit the Academy Physical Culture building into the parade ground. Right hand to left shoulder salutes were exchanged and then side by side but never touching or holding hands the pair walked toward the Officers Club. “You look so, uh hum, so...” Mykel tried to speak.

“Danubian?” Marcia laughed lightly.

“Ah, yes, that was the word for which I sought, you look so Danubian, Instructor Shevat, so Danubian indeed.” The young lieutenant finished.

’I try, with a little help from a friend, I try’ I thought. ’I hope I can call Cadet Kara a friend, she is only two years younger than I and I like her company,’ then aloud said, “My hair was a mess after my swim and Cadet Kara offered to braid it for me.”

“She did a fantastic job, Instructor, I must mention to her that as a military cadet she makes an excellent handmaiden.” Dracov teased.

“Oh, is she or I in trouble over this?” I asked.

“Not to worry, women often do each other’s hair and spend time in idle conversation, I think you call it gossiping,” Drakov laughed lightly, “in a society where personal vanity is frowned upon and in which few mirrors exist no one would have the exotic braids they do without such company.”

“I was thinking more rank and social status wise, Lieutenant, although she did volunteer her services,” I responded.

“A gift of her time and talent, an act of charity performed for her Ancestors, perfectly allowable even in the military codes,” Dracov finished.

Over their tea, I explained what Ivanka had asked me to do and then told Mykel I had accepted the burden of proxy disciplinarian for the administration of lashes to Wilhelmina Novotna, on the final day of the University semester.

“Only trouble is, though I’ve received them, I’ve never administered them. How does one train for such a duty? The Vice Commandant did mention a course on the subject of discipline, but I’m not sure when I am due to take it.” I stated.

Mykel laughed. Then he said, “Saturday, in the Physical Culture building, be there at 10 a.m. and bring your issued switch with you.”

That Saturday began a ritual of training that would last six weeks. I learned that the weekly demerit punishments for the cadet corps were held on each Saturday.

A cadet would be marched into the punishment room, and while standing at attention would recite his or her infraction and the number of lashes to be doled out. The cadet would then disrobe, be bent over a piece of gym equipment resembling a vaulting horse and an instructor picked at random by the draw of lots would administer the punishment.

The number was never less than five lashes for something small. Unchained boots, unmade beds, and for female cadets poorly braided hair were examples of five stroke penalties. Being late for formation, late returning from the past, or failing a quiz could result in ten strokes of the switch. Failing to salute an officer, failing to properly address an instructor, or blatant disregard of safety procedures on the firing range or in the field rated fifteen lashes. This was the limit for non-parade ground punishment. As Marcia had learned, Instructors and Cadets who rated a higher number of strokes were dealt with publicly, to act as an example for the Corps of Cadets.

Lieutenant Drakov addressed the cadets to be punished on the first Saturday I was in attendance, “You are all lucky today. All of you who are due five lashes take one step forward.” Twenty of the thirty cadets did so. “Please state the nature of your offenses then disrobe here and now,” each did so, twelve males and eight females soon stood in a line naked and shivering, wondering why they were so ‘lucky’.

“Because we have a trainee disciplinarian in Instructor Shevat, each of you shall receive only three lashes from her. To complete your punishment, gather your clothing and carry it with you back to your barracks. You are confined there until Monday morning and the start of classes.” Dracov announced.

“You others, so that you may not think me unjust, shall receive half your sentence plus one stroke, this day.” Addressing the other ten cadets in the room whom he left to the tender mercies of the other instructors.

With that, the line began to progress toward the horse where Marcia was to learn to switch. The first cadet, a male who obviously either liked to be switched or was a very poor cadet, had a mass of semi-healed welts on his buttocks and thighs.

“Lay three across his shoulders, taking care not to overlap them. Pause thirty seconds between them for maximum effect,” Drakov spoke as he positioned Marcia in the proper stance for a shoulder strike and demonstrated where the blows should land by guiding Marcia’s hand so the switch lightly touched the cadet’s skin.

“Count them, Cadet,” I ordered and began.

“ONE, thank you, Ma’am,” the cadet said.

“TWO, thank you, Ma’am,” he said again.

“THREE, thank you, Ma’am,” the cadet said. As he rose from the punishment position, he sported a huge erection.

Looking to Mykel and waiving the switch lightly in a silent signal, she got an affirmative nod in response.

“Cadet, how DARE YOU disrespect your disciplinarian with such a vulgar display?” I imitated her own father’s drill instructor voice as I bellowed. “You will rid yourself of that immediately. Begin now and if you mess the floor the ten strokes you are to be given for your disrespect will be doubled.”

In front of his fellow cadets, the aroused male was forced to masturbate himself to completion and tried to catch every drop in his other hand. Mykel used a flashlight to assure no specks had flown onto the floor to create a slipping hazard to the other cadets. The unfortunate male cadet stood, puddle in hand, and waited for his return to the horse after the rest of his fellow cadets were finished with their punishment.

I returned my attention to the line, the next cadet, a female who had failed to make weight, presented herself. Mykel again guided my hand to show me how to place the blows.The girl counted her punishment then stood and thanked her disciplinarian, gathered her clothing, and left. Two more males, then three females, received their punishment and so it went in a blur until the first hapless cadet was back for his second visit to Marcia’s switch. Mykel tossed the boy a towel and he finally wiped his fluids off his hands. He was then ordered to lay himself on his back over the horse. The fear became obvious in the male cadet’s eyes. Legs spread to either side, hands clasped behind his back he was ordered to remain still or face the punishment being started over with four sergeants holding his limbs outstretched.

“You may begin at his navel and work your way down to his crotch, Instructor Shevat,” Mykel Drakov told her. “Only if he becomes aroused again may you strike his penis.” Turning to the cadet, Mykel suggested, “If I were you, I would not develop an erection, this time.”

I laid the first welt directly across the boy’s navel. Her second was spaced about a half inch further down.By stroke six she was at the cadet’s crotch. He had wisely remained limp. Stroke seven drew a scream as Marcia struck just below the hips on both the cadet’s upper thighs. With his legs spread the blow landed well into the inner aspect. Stroke eight fell a bit below seven. Stroke nine was two inches lower in the mid-thigh and stroke ten landed just above the knees. By the time the last one hit the first six had already begun to purple. The cadet wisely found the strength to stand, thank his punisher for his correction, and then gather his clothing up and leave the room in something that passed for a military posture.

When the cadet was well gone, Mykel said to me, “Well, done. Although I doubt he’ll ever have an erection again in his lifetime, the blatant fact he enjoyed the first punishment needed to be addressed on the spot and you did so.”

“I may need to ice my arm. My rotator cuff feels like it is about to fall out of the joint in my shoulder. Thank you for the feeling I did the right thing. Though for some of those kids, I can’t see how punishment is warranted,” I said. “I felt sorry for the girl with the weight problem. She is otherwise healthy and I think she is in my Principals of Military Law course and is quite bright. To be lashed for being plump makes no sense to me.”

“Yes, however, the regulations as written are the rules we must follow. In them, it clearly states she is outside the parameters of fitness.” Mykel stated.

I let it drop. Some things I could not change nor understand, due to my outsider status. The things I could do, I would bring to Mykel’s parent’s attention as staff concerns, and perhaps get some things modified while I was here. I attended each Saturday discipline call for the next four weeks. The Saturday before my scheduled disciplining of Wilhelmina Novotna I begged off to prepare for that duty. I was now as accurate with my strokes as Mykel and knew how to inflict the maximum pain with the minimum of damage to the skin and underlying tissue.

Spokeswoman Takinva had also given me the protocol for the session. Monday morning with the Spokeswoman, the injured party Ivanka Siminov, an Appeals Judge, a Priestess, and me present, Wilhelmina Novotna would admit to her overzealous legalistic action against Ivanka, then publicly strip off her clothing in front of her three classes from this semester and Ivanka’s class from the last spring semester.

She would then assume the ‘prisoner position’ legs spread wide apart and hands clasped behind her head, while Ivanka lathered and shaved Wilhelmina Novotna’s pubic hair off. A day of penitent reflection in the presence of the priestess would continue through 8 a.m. Tuesday morning. At that time the professor would present herself for discipline, in the company of the Spokeswoman, the Priestess, and the Appeals Judge. Her Spring class, of which Ivanka had been a part, would be present for the punishment as would the Siminov family. Following the punishment Novotna would be expected to conduct each of her scheduled classes, freely presenting her welts and bruises to her students. She was to remain nude for the rest of the academic year.

On Tuesday at 7:55 a.m., the Siminov family sat in chairs to bear witness to the punishment, as the Spring class filed in to fill the rest of the chairs. I, dressed in the skirt and blouse of her uniform without the over tunic or fore and aft cap, waited for the arrival of the nude shaved older woman and her legal and religious entourage. At the stroke of 8 a.m., as the final steeple bell rang out, the trio of religious and legal people escorted the nude professor into the room.

Spokeswoman Takinva formally saluted me, who returned the salute in kind. “Instructor Shevat, I present to you the woman known as Wilhelmina Novotna for discipline, and surrender my temporary custody of her to you,” Takinva spoke the formality, stepped back, and saluted again.

I returned the salute; “I accept custody of the woman known as Wilhelmina Novotna for discipline, Spokeswoman. Is there no criminal nor prisoner number assigned?”

The Appellate Judge stood forward and saluted, “On appeal, it was decided this matter was one of consideration as a repentant person for violation of the civil statute, in this instance the University disciplinary guidelines. Therefore, no prisoner number has been assigned to Wilhelmina Novotna. You may continue, Instructor.” The Judge then saluted again and I dutifully returned it.

“Does this satisfy the religious community as well,” I addressed the Priestess after saluting her?

A salute and a brief, “It does,” followed from the Priestess.

“Then let us begin,” I nodded my head toward the table on which were arranged several hard pillows to better position the professor for discipline. Novotna walked over to the table and arranged herself correctly on the pillows the first time. It had been practiced in the Priestess’s presence repeatedly the day before. The Appeals Judge and the Priestess bound Novotna’s hands and feet to the legs of the table and I approached. Laid spread eagle over a table with hands and feet bound to the table legs, Novotna would be required to call each stroke and say ‘thank you for correcting my behavior’ after each stroke. Any stroke not counted in the thirty seconds allowed between strokes would not count toward the total.

“Woman, this Siminov family with myself as their proxy, now owns your name and your life path. You are Siminov property until your name and life path are returned to you,” I told the errant professor. “The woman being disciplined will count each stroke,” I addressed the assembly, “and will thank the Siminov family for allowing me to correct the error of your life path. Following the fiftieth stroke, the woman being disciplined will present herself before Ivanka Siminov, beg Ivanka Siminov for her forgiveness, and ask for the restoration of her name. Should Ivanka Siminov assess that the woman being disciplined has not repented of her error, and should Ivanka Siminov not forgive her, the woman being disciplined shall still be free but be nameless and numberless until Ivanka Siminov chooses to return the name and life path to the woman.”

Protocol out of the way; I stated to everyone, “Let us begin. Woman you are advised the first five taps are not your discipline, they are my way to assess how best to complete your sentence without permanently damaging your body.”

Even at the first light tap, Novotna leaped in response. I thought Novotna would make it, perhaps to twenty strokes before she was screaming in pain so badly, she would forget to keep count and thank the Siminov.

Marcia turned out to be wrong, though sobbing quietly into the u-shaped pillow that supported her neck Novotna never lost count until stroke forty-six. The Spokeswoman called a halt for examination. The Judge told Marcia to move from Novotna’s buttocks and upper thighs to her shoulders.

Stroke forty-six landed across both shoulder blades and caught the flesh of the right upper arm as well. Novotna let out a scream that could curdle the blood and began with a wracking cry that suggested she had broken completely. I looked to the Spokeswoman and Judge for a decision and was told not by them but by the Priestess to, “Complete the punishment without count or comment.” The two legal representatives acknowledged this instruction, and I laid on the last four strokes, alternating sides of the table as I did so. Novotna finished with a scant four inches of non-marked flesh between her neck and knees. The welts and bruises on her buttocks and thighs were already showing blood blistering and angry purple coloration. Her upper back would soon follow.

“Please release the woman who has been disciplined, so that she may beg forgiveness of the person she has wronged and ask for her name to be returned.” I saluted and addressed the Judge and Spokeswoman.

The Judge and Spokeswoman undid the shackles binding Novotna but did not assist her in rising from the table. On shaky feet, she wobbled over to the Siminov family. In front of Ivanka, she knelt in the open-legged prisoner position and whispered, “Please forgive me and release me to follow my life path, Ivanka Siminov,” Novotna then began to sob.

“Woman, my pain becomes your pain and my shame becomes your shame. By your act of penitence, you have restored me to fullness. I know to do the same for you. Rise woman and once again take the name and title Doctor Wilhelmina Novotna.” Ivanka had two scripts in front of her, and the other would have denied Novotna her name and title until Ivanka decided to give them back. Ivanka then added, “Your name you may have. You’re clothing and worldly possessions you may not. You will finish the terms of my sentence at your hand, to remain nude until the academic year finishes. Only then shall you be allowed to clothe yourself. Go now, your classes await their professor.”

Tears running down her face, a humbled Professor Wilhelmina Novotna walked out of the room to bathe in the faculty shower before her class at 11 a.m.

I had worked up a sweat switching Novotna. I wanted to also shower and do my hair, a braid having come loose while laboring as a proxy disciplinarian, but the Siminov family wanted to take me to brunch in celebration.

“Well, if you can stand the stink of my body, I sure could use a few calories after that workout,” I told Ivan Siminov.

Wilhelmina Novotna, prepared to be disgraced upon arriving in her first class after her discipline, was surprised to find her entire class, standing next to their desks, clothing neatly folded atop the desks, nude. As she walked through the door, spontaneously, the class applauded. Making the required turn to expose her battered rear to the class, Professor Novotna received an even louder round of applause, and several “Doc-doc, Professor” calls as well. Remission and repentance were rewarded, and she began the class after insisting they all be seated as if nothing was unusual. So, it was also in her next two classes that day. For the rest of the semester at least a few, sometimes as many as half of her students would remain naked during class as a form of moral support.

Wilhelmina Novotna gradually relaxed into her enforced nudity and, once the bruises healed a bit, actually would sit on a corner of her desk while lecturing in much the same manner as she had when worn her long skirts and starched blouses and sensible shoes. She also found herself relaxing from the dictatorial martinet of an instructor she had boxed herself into being and becoming more of a mentor and facilitator for her students. She was pleasantly surprised when she read the themes from her three classes that not one bogus paper was handed to her.

What she had planned for her Spring semester classes would shock and surprise everyone. She and Ivanka Siminov had joined heads on a concept and were to present it to the administration after the holidays.