The Switch
"Do you carve wood well?"
Leden had one hobby. Carving staffs.
Magicians' staffs were made by carving a suitable block of wood into the right shape, processing it magically, and then using it as a proper staff.
"I need something made of wood. You've had staff materials lying around since last time—mind helping me out?"
"No idea what you're making, but sorry, I'm not that good at it."
Leden pulled out a rough, bumpy staff from his pen holder. The surface wasn't smooth, and the shape was ugly.
"I don't have that kind of handiwork skill. What I carve just ends up looking like this."
There was a way to evaluate a staff's quality and tier like this. The smooth, pretty exterior. The grip that fit comfortably in the hand without discomfort. The type of wood used as material. The clean finishing. Whether the magician who processed it magically was skilled. All these factors combined to divide staffs into tiers, but in Leden's case, even his best work only reached D-tier.
"For proper magicians to use, it has to be at least C-grade."
"Ah, I don't need a staff."
"Then?"
"Just make me a switch in the shape I want."
I drew the shape of the switch I desired using hand gestures. The long, flat one we all knew, and the thick, broad one called a paddle.
Leden, who hadn't understood at first, rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then seemed to remember someone.
"The academy has tons of magicians, right? One of them might be the staff maker you're looking for."
"You know someone?"
"Nope."
Of course. I'd never seen Leden talk to any magicians besides Sena and Julia.
That left me with carving it myself or begging Leden for a D-grade switch at best, but...
"Why not just find someone and ask?"
Leden tossed out the obvious solution like it was nothing.
It gave me a headache. Who couldn't do that? If I were him, I'd find someone and offer money to make it. But which magician would help the punishment instructor they'd already taken a disliking to?
"Leden. Easier said than done. Who'd help someone like me?"
"Hey now, don't give up without trying. At least talk to them first, right? You're an instructor now. No need to bow and scrape anymore."
Leden then shared one piece of info. There was a workshop district behind the academy. Head there, and there might be a staff maker willing to help. If not, create a reason for them to. Smart people always find a way out, he said.
Behind Luna's main building, low structures lined up like a shopping street. Smoke rose from chimneys here, intense heat poured out there. Brilliant lights shone from others. As I entered the street known as the workshop district, magicians—mostly men—started glancing my way.
"Who's that? New face."
"That's the guy. The instructor."
"Oh, the punishment instructor?"
They looked more like blacksmiths than magicians. Instead of the usual academy uniforms, they wore thin, stained casual clothes while hammering wood or metal, eyeing me warily. No one seemed approachable.
I wandered like a lost child when...
"You. What're you doing here?"
A woman with a cigarette dangling from her lips spoke up from a workshop entrance. Baggy pants for ventilation and a sports bra that was basically underwear. Her soot-streaked face looked healthy as she exhaled blue-flamed smoke and asked again.
"Hunting someone to punish?"
She sat cross-legged on a rickety chair at the entrance, not looking high-status. Most magicians were nobles, especially from families with deep magical traditions. Commoners? They existed, but nobles obsessed with class and origins didn't leave them alone. I'd seen it—real bullying in the academy, not just avoidance like with Sena, but outright harassment. And most victims were commoners.
"Not that."
I quickly sized up her outfit. She stood out unscathed among the sweaty guys. Plain face, but her body was no joke. A bit of flesh, but breasts too big for the bra, hips showing through the loose pants. Her sweat-soaked skin gleamed like oiled, cleavage peeking from the bra.
"Here to commission something."
"Then grab a magician and commission it. Why wander around?"
"No one suitable."
I eyed her narrowed gaze and decided.
"Name?"
"Darian."
"You make staffs too?"
She smirked skeptically.
"Workshop magician—what else would I make?"
"Then I'll commission you."
I barged into Darian's workshop uninvited. She glared in disbelief, glanced outside, then followed.
"Hot, bad air. No ventilation?"
I brazenly plopped into a chair. No backrest? I looked for windows; quick-witted Darian pushed a wall panel, and one opened with a click.
"Never said I'd take commissions."
"Not refusing now."
Tsking, she grabbed a chair from the corner and sat in front of me.
"Servant-turned-instructor learning magic? Warning you—I don't work cheap."
"Not a staff."
I spotted wood blocks wrapped in cloth in the corner. I pulled one out from a gap; she snatched it back.
"Then why're you here? Disciplining students?"
"Special custom commission."
"...Like?"
"Make me a switch."
Switch? She tilted her head, so I figured a simple request wouldn't get the shape right. I grabbed a half-finished wooden rod nearby.
"Thinner and broader than this."
"Not hard, but what's it for?"
"Don't know switch? Like this, like this."
I mimed striking with it, but her blank face said she didn't get it.
"Stand up a sec."
"Why would I—"
"Now."
I forced her up, bent her over the desk. Oblivious, she posed; I lightly swung the rod at her ass.
Thwack.
Just a demo, baggy pants—no pain. But startled, she swatted it away; I snatched it back quick.
"What the hell!"
"That's the use. Get it now?"
"I get it. You want a weapon to torment students?"
Arms crossed, distancing herself, she refused flatly.
"Why should I make that crap?"
"One. The punishment instructor has partial authority from the principal."
I'd prepared lines for her attitude. She flinched, shadow crossing her face.
"Two. He can judge and punish or pardon students at discretion."
I smirked vilely, pointing at her cigarette.
"Three. Smoking's banned in the academy. You're subject to punishment."
"What? I've smoked for years—no one's said a word."
"Until now."
"Bullshit! Why's a blackmailer like you an instructor? Get out. Not making it."
Whatever she ranted, I rummaged for a staff holder. Ah, this one's good. I pulled out one with the perfect surface area. Flexible, springy, solid.
"Nice. Make a switch from this wood."
"Put it down and leave."
"Ass out."
"Huh?"
"Punishment for contraband. First offense, so 30 on the ass. Deal?"
"That's ridiculous—"
"Ridiculous?"
I whooshed the staff fiercely. Whoosh—whoosh—she clutched her ass, backing away, face piling with worry and fear.
"Instructor's duty. Hate it? Make the switch for free, and I'll pardon you. Choose."
"......"
"Sigh, I hate waiting. Grab a chair, out front. Strip and take it in front of everyone to learn."
"I'll make it! Just make it, okay?"
There we go. If not for the attitude, I'd have ordered and left quietly. I offered the staff as sample.
"Switches in the shape I want from this material. Like... paper? Thanks. So, a bunch of these thin ones, and this size too."
"Th-this isn't a switch, it's a cutting board?"
"Switch in that shape. Make it. And tools for the Intensive Punishment Room."
She examined my scribbles, freaking out—yelling, banging the desk, face beet-red, insisting she absolutely wouldn't or couldn't. But fearing public bare-ass spanking, she caved.
"H-how can anyone make tools like this..."
"No plastic or machines here. Common in my world."
"Gotta contact the leather workshop, get wood and glass... I cover costs?"
"Free up to the switches. I'll handle materials. Not that heartless."
"Fine. ...You're really using this on students?"
"Yup! Watch—in a few months, they'll beg me to spank them."
Yeah, all for the magicians' education. They'd beg later, no doubt. Growth-obsessed maniacs would.
"Spank me."
In the bedroom I'd been summoned to at night, Sena waited naked, not a stitch on. Not just waiting—she was draped over the bed, ass presented, several staffs lined up beside her as switches.
"Sena? What're you doing?"
"Thought it over. I get collecting data as punishment instructor. But it's unfair."
Stubbornly, she didn't turn. Buried her face in the pillow, voice a bit sulky.
"The witches you punish grow, but why can't I, your master and first discovery, get special treatment?"
"S-Seena's strong enough."
"The stronger the witch, the higher the realm she aims for."
She lifted her head slightly. Her eyes peeking from the pillow were resolute.
"Do this. Every night from now, punish me. Specially harder than the others."
"......For real?"
"Yeah. The Intensive Punishment Room is harsher than this, right?"
Thump—my heart skipped. She had no idea what I planned there.
"Then do the room's punishments on me first. I deserve that perk."
"You know what goes on there?"
"...No. But whatever it is, I'm ready."
I scratched my forehead. The room would be a hardcore SM haven—sexual torture central, my perversion outlet under punishment guise. And my master wants first dibs? Even the variety on her? Masochist or tough woman?
Headache, but she asked willingly.
"Promise. You'll always come first. First Intensive Punishment Room user: reserved for Sena."
Her tense shoulders relaxed. I eyed her ass, then spoke slowly.
"Wanna do that thing?"
"What?"
"Regular punishment lacks immersion. Feels insufficient."
Her face said just do it—what do you want? Kinda hurtful.
"Told you before coming here, I did this with a junior back home?"
"...Yeah."
"Let's take a test."
Test? I winked at her baffled glare.
"To focus on punishment, you need a reason for it."