From the Top Shelf - Clarice's Correction

We turn the clocks back 50 years or so to a gentler time, before the internet made research and plagiarism both extremely easy. It was harder to cheat back then, but it was still done. But when a cheater was found out, the punishment was far more than a mere slap on the  wrist.

Will Henry wrote the following piece about a spanking born out of total moral justification. Enjoy the contrite young lady's narration!

As I had been told it would be, the front porch light at Professor Harrison's house was on. It provided much more illumination than I really wanted although I was fairly confident that my black raincoat and cape would sufficiently disguise my identity from the neighbours. Shivering with anticipation, I hesitantly rang the doorbell. It occurred to me that the Professor might deliberately make me wait out there until somebody recognised me.

But the door swung open almost immediately, really too soon as far as I was concerned. Although the light from the living room momentarily obscured my vision, I was all too aware of Professor Harrison's imposing masculine figure in the doorway. Somewhat to my surprise he was attired in a black academic cap and gown that perhaps he considered appropriate for the occasion.

"Come in, Clarice," he spoke in a pleasant voice, as if he were genuinely surprised to see me standing there. This, despite the fact that he and I both knew exactly why I was there.

Although I felt my cheeks redden beneath my heavy make-up, I tried to keep my poise as I reluctantly stepped into the nicely furnished living room. I wanted to say something, but could think of nothing that would sound appropriate under the circumstances. My head felt light and it seemed impossible that this was really happening to me. My knees were a little shaky as he gazed curiously at me.

"I must say I feel..." I started to try to explain myself, but he raised a hand to signal me to stop.

"Let me help you out of those things," he said, clearly referring to my raincoat and cape.

I wanted to protest but stood there quietly as he lifted off my cape. My long blonde hair, done up in two tight braids, suddenly tumbled out into full view, along with the two bright red ribbons at the end of each braid. My deliberately juvenile hairstyle made me blush all the more, but I could tell that he was pleased with what he saw.

"The coat too," he said quietly.

I tried to undo the buttons but my fingers were numb and awkward. He observed me for a moment and then took over the task himself. I felt my knees buckle and I wanted to sink right through the floor as the coat came off to reveal the absolutely brazen outfit I had been instructed to wear. This consisted of a paper thin white blouse worn without a bra or anything else beneath it and a ridiculously short pleated black skirt that came only to mid-thigh and failed to conceal the darker portions of my mocha-coloured stockings. Black patent leather pumps with spike heels and pointed toes completed the visible parts of what Professor Harrison had all too accurately described as my initiation uniform.

"Please, Professor, I feel so..." I tried to speak but found myself at a loss for words.

No man had ever seen me attired in such a provocative and absurd manner and I squirmed with humiliation and confusion. I miserably tugged at my abbreviated skirt and wanted to cover myself but didn't have enough hands to do the job. Though I couldn't bear to look up, I could just feel his eyes feasting on my brazenly displayed figure. I'm afraid my skimpy blouse highlighted rather than concealed my pink tipped breasts, while that super mini-skirt and black hose made me feel much too leggy. How I had pleaded to be allowed to wear pantyhose rather than old fashioned regular stockings.

Perhaps I should offer some explanation for my mortifying predicament. I was a 24-year-old research assistant working under Professor Harrison in a field in which he was quite renowned. I had been looking forward to receiving an advanced degree at the University, but for various reasons my research project was not progressing as I had hoped. Feeling considerable pressure to complete the project as soon as possible, I cribbed some research findings from an obscure source that I thought would never be discovered. Alas I had overlooked Professor Harrison's thoroughness and complete familiarity with the field.

He had confronted me with the damning evidence in his office the day before. I had broken down and tearfully begged for another chance. I can remember his exact words:

"Clarice, I can give you another chance, but only if you accept appropriate punishment for this offence!"

I had no idea what he meant, but heard myself saying, "Yes, of course, whatever you say, but please give me another chance."

"It will have to be exactly on the terms I prescribe," he informed me, "And I do mean exactly."

"I-I understand," I feebly replied. I assumed that he intended to extract some sexual favours from me, and was prepared for that. But I was definitely not prepared for what he really had in mind.

"I suppose you could say that your punishment will be something like a sorority initiation..." he began.

Thus, I found myself in Professor Harrison's living room attired in the exact outfit he had insisted upon against my hapless and often astonished objections.

"I'm pleased that you have apparently decided to co-operate, Clarice," he remarked after carefully inspecting me from head to foot. "The session will go much more smoothly that way!"

My stomach did a little flip-flop and I found myself trembling visibly. "Perhaps," I meekly suggested, "You could punish me some other way?"

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. With that he took me by the hand as if I were a child. I'm sure he must have been a little surprised at how cold my hand was. "Let's go into the study."

My knees felt watery beneath me, and at times I thought I might lose my balance. At least we seemed alone in the house and that was some comfort. His study was what you would expect, lined with books and featuring a large desk and several comfortable chairs.

"Oooooh!" I'm afraid I involuntarily emitted a shriek as I caught sight of the bright red maple sorority paddle prominently displayed right on top of his desk! My heart started thumping wildly and I'm not sure but I must have turned pale under my make-up.

If I'm not mistaken, Professor Harrison chuckled under his breath at my fearful reaction. Although I held back, he forcefully led me towards a straight backed chair adjacent to his desk. I was biting my lip and was hoping desperately that something would intervene to save me or at least stave off what seemed inevitable.

"Bend over the back of that chair, Clarice," he instructed. "Grab the seat with both hands!"

I wanted to argue with him, but my mouth seemed filled with cotton. Miserably, I bent over the back of the chair as he had demanded and clasped the seat with both hands. I didn't have to be told that the back of my skirt had ridden up over the tops of my black stockings. My girlish rear end suddenly felt all too vulnerable, and tears of humiliation were beginning to affect my vision.

"Professor, please..." I managed to stammer indignantly.

He seemed in no hurry, but still events moved much too quickly as far as I was concerned. Almost before I realised what was happening, I felt his fingers on the hem of my short skirt. Up it went, right to my waist!

"Aaaaaaah!" I shrieked with horror as my black panties and matching garter belt suddenly came into full view. Instinctively I twisted in an effort to preserve my modesty.

"Hold still! Stay in position!" Professor Harrison demanded in an angry, commanding voice I had never heard before.

I shuddered and perhaps would have resisted had it not all seemed so unreal to me. A few long moments passed, during which time I'm sure he relished the sight of my panty-clad bottom, full white thighs and stocking-clad legs.

"Keep your hands on the seat!" he ordered.

An instant later, his fingers were inside the elastic waistband of my black panties!

"Oh no!" I screamed.

Without further ado, down came my panties! I wanted to die of shame and humiliation. With one swift, continuous motion, the Professor yanked my panties right down to the tops of my stockings,leaving my plump, feminine bottom horribly bare and way too vulnerable. Although, in retrospect, I don't suppose I should have been too surprised, I was completely dumbfounded by this unexpected assault on my pride and dignity.

"Hold still!" he demanded, though I hadn't really moved all that much.

"Oh this is just awful!" I protested as I began to recover my senses. "I didn't realise you would..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for that paddle on his desk.

"Oh please, Professor," I burst out, "Just use your hand! Don't use that awful paddle! Please!"

"Stay in position!" he barked at me, taking no notice.

Although my vision was blocked , I could sense that he was sizing me up, taking very careful aim with that wicked paddle. My gluteal muscles began tightening in anticipation, even though I was totally inexperienced and really didn't know what to expect.

SMACK!!

"Owwwwww!" I screamed as that highly varnished maple paddle landed squarely across my exposed bottom-cheeks with a loud whack. I suddenly felt as if I had been stung by a thousand bees. My entire body jerked convulsively and for a moment I thought my knees would give out on me.

"Count the strokes!" he ordered. "And don't forget to thank me!"

Oh how could he humiliate me like that! "O-One!" I managed to stammer. "T-Thank you..."

WHACK! Once again that paddle was right on target.

"Ooooooohh!" I shrieked, my braided curls flying as my head jerked back. I couldn't believe it could burn and sting that much!

There was a pause, as if he were waiting for something.

"T-two," I finally remembered in a haze. "T-Thank you!"

"That's better," he told me, "Now if I have to wait for you again there will be some penalty smacks at the end and I'm sure you don't want those!"

"Oh please, Professor, I can't stand it!" I pleaded, tears starting to drip down my cheeks.

"You've been a naughty girl, Clarice, and this is the price you have to pay!" he spoke as if to a juvenile instead of a completely grown woman.

Before I could respond, he took careful aim with the paddle. THWAAAAACK!

"Yeow!" That solid piece of maple flattened my buttocks again, and for a moment felt as if it were going to go right through me. "T-Three," I stuttered. "T-Thank you!" My tears were beginning to blind me, and I was already completely convinced that I simply couldn't stand much more of this agony. "Stop, oh please, stop!" I wailed in a distraught voice.

"Keep your bottom in position, Clarice!" he instructed in a voice that displayed not the slightest sympathy for my suffering.

"WHACK! Once again that vicious paddle splatted noisily against my unprotected bottom. As the fresh jolt of pain shot through me, I rocked forward on my toes and back on my heels.

"Owwwwwwwwww!" I exclaimed. "F-Four!" I was no longer sure I could keep an accurate count, not to mention the humiliation of it all.

"Well?" he enquired.

"T-Thank you!" I struggled to get the words out. "Oh please, don't make me say that!"

SMACK! The next application seemed harder than the ones before but perhaps it was just my imagination.

"Owwww, Oh God!" I shrieked. "F-F-Five! Oh this is just dreadful. Oh T-Thank you! Please, wait a minute, please! I can't stand any more!"

"You're not nearly red enough yet, young lady!" he announced in a calm voice.

WHACK! His accuracy with that paddle was almost unbelievable. Once again my girlishly plump bottom-cheeks went momentarily flat under the force of that crisply applied paddle.

"Yeeeeow!" I squealed, my burning buttocks twitching and jerking reflexively. "Six!" I gasped although I wasn't sure that was right. "T-Thank you. Oh please wait awhile! I'm scalding hot! I'm burning...oh please!"

SMACK!

"Owwwwwwwww!" I yelled. I'm sure the whole neighbourhood could hear me by this time. "S-Seven! T-Thank you...please, sir, take time out for a while. Please, I'm begging you!" I feverishly rubbed my nyloned legs together in an effort to reduce some of that heat in my burning behind.

WHACK!

"Ooooooooohh!" I shrieked between loud sobs of pain and shame. "Eight...I think. Please don't make me count any more! I can't keep track. Please, oh this is awful!"

THWAAACK! Professor Harrison continued to wield the paddle in unmerciful fashion.

"Oooooooohhh! N-Nine. T-Thank you!" I managed although I was crying almost too hard to get the words out.

SMACK! With my tender bottom completely in flames, the final blows of the paddle were almost unbearable.

"Oooooooh! Ten. T-Thank you!" I was afraid that I was about to go into hysterics. My legs seemed almost too weak to support me, and I was starting to sag over the back of the chair.

WHACK! The paddle imparted more heat to my already blistering hot buttocks, and I was sure I was going to faint before too long.

"Owwwwww!" I screamed in anguish. "Please have mercy. E-Eleven...T-Thank you!"

"One more, Clarice!" he announced sternly.

SMACK! The final blow, the hardest of all, made me see stars!

"Owwwwww!" I screamed. "T-Twelve! Thank you! Oh no more, please. I'm burning up! Oh this is just dreadful!"

I breathed a deep sigh of relief as Professor Harrison placed the paddle back on the desk.

"Over to the corner, Miss!" he ordered, taking me firmly by the arm. "And hold that skirt right up so you are showing that nice red bottom of yours!"

Nearly tripping over my lowered panties and blinded by my tears, I was forcibly marched over to one corner of the study. There I stood, bare-bottomed and disgraced, while Professor Harrison lit a cigar and leaned back in an easy chair to thoroughly enjoy the scenery... I knew I would do anything to avoid another workout with that wicked paddle!

Not exactly politically correct behaviour on the Professor's part, but his student learned her lesson.