No, let the Dean decide.

"I don't know." Feigning masculine indifference you try to play it cool, however, you cannot help but glance down at the Dean's assets, being put on display by her leaning forward while her arms gently push her breasts together. "That's up to you, Dean van Laar."

"Indeed, it is." van Laar keeps her pose, almost trying you to keep eye contact. "When faced with a tough decision I am always of the mind to do what is right, no matter the cost. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Johnson?"

"Yes." You answer, as your eyes fail again, glimpsing down at the tempting sight.

"As I thought." She sits back up. "I will then recommend to the President expulsion and that your case be turned over to the local police."

"What!" Your teeth grind together at such a swift and cruel sentence as van Laar simply watches your reaction. "The bitch is just toying with me." Your mind seers as you look away as your thoughts turn to how brokenhearted your mother will be.

"Considering your chivalric attitude, however," Dean van Laar breaks the silence, "I will give you a choice."

Turning back you notice her stern judgmental countenance never seems to change. "How can someone so cold, be so frigging hot." You think to yourself.

"You can choose expulsion and the possibility of incarceration," the Dean offers, "or academic probation and a in-house punishment, providing of course the stolen money is return along with the school being reimbursed for the damages while an appropriate monetary fine is added. I would think a grand total of around $20,000 dollars would be about right."

"I don't have that kind of money!" You protest.

"Then we could come to a special arrangement, Mr. Johnson." The Dean for the first time gives a brief hint at a smile, which is most unnerving. "I will give the college the money in your name, as long as you pay me back."

"How? Why?" Your mind begins to race.

"Besides a large inheritance, my parents left me an old colonial on several acres that requires much upkeep." van Laar explains, "Starting this Saturday you will report to my house. There are various menial tasks and much back breaking manual labor that has to be done, all of which you will perform as my servant, Mr. Johnson."

"More like your ****!" Your fists clench with offense.

Ms. van Laar doesn't even flinch at your implied accusation of racism. "Yes, that is exactly what I am suggesting, Mr. Johnson." The Dean doubles down on her offer with her continued stern confidence which is both troubling and also strangely arousing. "I believe that the old ways are the better ways." She takes a sip of her tea. "Besides, my students have always accused me of living in the 19th century."

"Obviously." You cross your arms, trying to return to a position of strength.

"I am not done, Mr. Johnson." The Dean counters, "Your servitude is merely for paying off my loan. There is still the matter of the in-house punishment." Lifting up the folder the Dean reveals a large wooden paddle hidden underneath. It is the type used by fraternities back in the old days when hazing was tolerated. With ten holes in its blade to allow for quicker strikes the device is clearly made for only one purpose. "You will bend over this table and take twenty before you leave my office."

Your hands drop to your side, shocked, as you realize van Laar is quite serious.

"So what is it going to be, Mr. Johnson? Expulsion and jail or indentured servitude and corporal correction?"