From the Top Shelf - What to Do?

What to Do is one of my favourite school stories by GeorgieC. It is an excellent example of topping from the bottom, schoolgirl style.

Paul Morris looked with concern towards the cupboard. He hadn't really expected this problem to arise too soon. No one had told him what was expected, and he didn't really know how to deal with it.

It was now Wednesday, and he'd only taken over as Headmaster on Monday. The first Headmaster of St Helena's School for Girls in the hundred and seventy-five years of existence of that famed seat of learning. Miss Bannerman, who had been Headmistress since anyone could remember, had very inconveniently passed away part way through the Inter-school hockey final while yelling "Come on, gals, come on Saint…". The Director of Education, in his wisdom and drive for equality throughout the system, had appointed Paul, pro tem, as Headmaster of the school,despite the quite blatant opposition from certain female members of the Education Committee.

He looked anxiously at the cupboard though, for a task had come to him that he had hoped would not come his way. Mrs Fraser, the History teacher, had come to him just before lunch. "I have just discovered Susan Bailey, from form 6B, behind the gym SMOKING A CIGARETTE!" Although spoken, the last words were clearly in capitals. "I have told her to report here to you at two o'clock".

And with that she had turned on her heels and left. Paul had found the cane on the first day. In the cupboard. But how, or even if it was applied in the environment of a girl's school he had no idea. He had never even taught girls before, never mind being responsible for their disciplinary "needs". What was he supposed to do?

In fact, in his previous schools, all-boy affairs, even the cane wasn't used. There they used the slipper. If a boy had misbehaved, he touched his toes, lifted his blazer slightly to give a clear target of the seat of his trousers, and whack, whack, there you go. But what on earth do you do with girls?

There was a knock on the door. Paul glanced up at the clock. Two o'clock. Obviously Susan Bailey. He hoped, hoped beyond hope, that Mrs Fraser would be there, to give some guidance as to what was expected. She had sent the wretched girl to him. Was he supposed to tell her off severely, was he supposed to issue some form of sanction, was he supposed to award detention, was he supposed to…. He called out "Come in".

The girl entered and shut the door behind her. About 5'6" she stood. With a mass of blonde hair, bright sparkling blue eyes. She wore the school uniform to perfection, crisp white blouse with the school tie, maroon skirt terminating half-way between knee and…well, half-way up the thigh. Long, long legs down to white ankle socks, and black shoes. Paul found his mind wandering. This was far far different from any of the spotty, snotty-nosed little lads he'd come across before. He knew he should say something, something that would keep him in control of the situation, but no words came out. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. But she helped him out. Without knowing it. She guided him to the next step.

"Mrs Fraser's sent me to be caned, Sir. She caught me smoking, Sir, and she says I have to get the cane off you now, Sir". Ah well, that's a bit clearer then. No telling off, no sanctions, no detention. The cane it is.

He went to the cupboard and opened it. The cane lay there and he picked it up, trying to look as though this was the most natural thing in the world. What now? How many? And more importantly... how?

Again she helped. "Shall I get the chair, Sir?" He nodded and she marched off to the corner of the room, picked up a chair and brought it to the middle of the room.

He gave a perfunctory little swish of the cane to give him time to think, but he was halted in mid action.

She glanced round at him briefly, smiled a little fleeting smile, and with no more ado, lifted her skirt to her waist. Her white underpants covered but half of her round bottom cheeks, but the view was quickly changed, as with no further comment, she pulled her knickers right down to her knees, and bent over the chair.

Her bare bottom stuck up into the air provocatively, and as she settled into place Paul could clearly see what lay between her legs. She grasped the legs of the chair and her voice came filtering through. "It'll only be six won't it, Sir?" He tried to stay calm. "Yes, six of the best, count each one, please, Susan".

He laid the cane across the pale cheeks, and trying hard to concentrate on the job in hand, on the fact that this was discipline, punishment, correction, he raised the cane and brought it down with a resounding whack. "Ow, one, Sir".

A pale pink line developed, but again he raised the cane. Whack! "Ouch, two, Sir".

Two neatly parallel lines were developing. Whack! "Oww! Three, Sir…ouch!"

Whack!! "Ow…ooh, that hurts. Ow, er, four, Sir...ouch!"

Paul viewed the bottom before him. There was a distinct stirring in his trousers that he knew he should not have. But here was a Sixth Form girl, bent over in front of him, her knickers round her knees, having her bum turned red.

He realised he needed to get this over and done. Whack! "Yeeow! Five, Sir, oh Sir, five!"

She was now in tears, but there was one to go. Should he be lenient. Make it lighter? Even let her off? No, something in him told him that to do so would appear weak. Particularly in his first days. This caning would set the scene of the rest of his time at the school. He had to maintain discipline.

WHACK! Lighter? No, clearly the hardest. A loud yell came from the girl, as a bright crimson mark grew almost instantly across her cheeks. "Six, Sir!"

"Right, young lady, get up and get dressed". He laid the cane on the table. "I hope that has taught you the error of smoking".

She stood up slowly, her back still to him, her skirt still raised as she rubbed her buttocks. They jiggled in opposite directions as her hands worked up and down over the clearly visible ridges. She leaned forward, again briefly displaying a little tuft of hair between her legs as she reached down and started to pull her white knickers up, gently easing them over the glowing redness.

She turned to face him, her face pink. "Yes, Sir, I think I've learned my lesson".

"Right you can go".

She turned and walked towards the door. As she did so he noticed her skirt had still not resumed its normal place, and as she walked her hands rubbed away at the seat of her clearly visible white underpants. She opened the door, exited, closing it behind her.

* * *

Her friends gathered round. "Well, what happened? Did you get detention?"

"I got the cane".

There were disbelieving noises. "He's only been here two days." "Old Banners only caned three girls in the whole time she was here, and that was for stealing!" "How many'd you get?"

"Six!"

Again, gasps. "You can't have! Banners only gave four at the most… let's see your hands then… you wouldn't be able to write after six!"

"I got them on my bum"

There was now a growing hubbub. "The dirty old sod… What? He made you bend over in that skirt? Bet he tried to see your knicks, the dirty bugger".

"No..worse than that... he made me take them down. I got it completely bare-arsed!"

The group fell completely silent, open-mouthed.

"And he said that's how he's going to cane everyone from now on. Said we've had it too easy, and from now on, he doesn't even want to have to tell anyone what to do. If you get sent to him, you'd better get your knicks down sharpish, or he'll give you double".

The conversation became heated. Some girls were in tears. Many tried to come to terms with the new regime, and all that it would mean. Susan slowly drifted away, a contented smile on her face.

What a naughty girl Susan is!