Tuesday, January 11, 2022

From the Top Shelf - The Experiment

Our first story for the new year is by that prolific spanking writer, GeorgieC. This story came as a holiday present from him and I am delighted to share it with you. Enjoy!


"Come on, Fortescue.  You can't be a swat all your life.  Come and join us in a game of soccer."

Fortescue shook his tousled head so rapidly that his owl-like glasses nearly fell to the floor.  "No, I can't.  The experiment I'm studying is at a vital phase.  I must go and see how it's doing.  I need it for top grades. My University place depends on it."

Leybridge Sixth Form Academy had a good reputation for University admissions, and Fortescue was expected to easily achieve a place at a prestigious seat of learning, despite his own seeming self-doubts.

He turned and, as fast as he could (which wasn't very fast at all in truth), he waddled away into the West Wing, and up to the science laboratory on the top floor where he spent every lunchtime.

Bill Banks - for it had been he who had attempted to get the swat to socialise - sighed.  He didn't mind Fortescue, despite his rather strange view of Life.  He sort of felt sorry for him.  Unlike the other lads.  They called him "Prof" if they were feeling a bit kind, "The Geek", or "Swatty Pants", if they weren't.  They didn't feel kind very often.  They never passed over any opportunity to trip him up, or knock his books on the floor, or inflict any one of a thousand other torments upon him.

Unfortunately a small number of that group had overheard the conversation.

"Off to his beloved experiment again, huh?" said Morris, the self-appointed leader of the gang.  "How about we see if we can't help him, hey, lads?  Let's go up to the lab.  It would be a shame if anything got broken though, wouldn't it?  We'll just have to … protect him and his experiment.  We need to ensure he gets the grades he deserves".

"No, no, don't - leave him alone" pleaded Banks, but the die was cast, and the mob set off in pursuit of its quarry.  In through the door and up the two flights of stairs they charged.  Bill Banks, being no slouch himself, managed to keep up with them and pushed his way to the front of the throng as they jostled outside the door of the lab.  He knew he couldn't prevent them spoiling Fortescue's hard work, but he thought he may be able to minimise the effect of the raging tornado about to engulf him.

The door was pushed open suddenly, by whom no one was sure, and the group of lads stumbled into the lab.  But they stopped short as the bench where they had expected to see him working was empty.  It took a second or two for them to realise where he was.  He was stood by the window, binoculars in hand, looking back at them, shocked and instantly crimson faced.

"What you doin', Forters?" asked Banks.

Fortescue just stood frozen, his mouth opening and shutting.
"What you up to?  What you looking at?" snarled Morris, and grabbed the binoculars.  The swat had no response and his hands fell limply to his side.

Morris raised the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the yard below.  Groups of students were playing games played throughout history, or else were huddled together plotting and planning who fancied who. One or two pairs of boys and girls who had already ascertained who fancied who were separate from the main bunches of their companions, but none were acting inappropriately. Just chatting quietly away. Nothing worth spying upon.

Morris was puzzled.  He continued to scan the yard and then raised the glasses to the main academy building across the yard.  Classroom after classroom swept by his gaze, until a slight movement in one window caused him to pause.

It took him a moment to get his bearings, and in that moment he realised he was looking straight into the Headmaster's office.

And there, draped over the back of the big armchair in the room was a girl.  No doubt it was a girl, as her feet were slightly lifted off the floor. The feet gave a little involuntary twitch, as Morris realised that he was viewing a caning. Confirmation that girls were treated the same as boys.  He recognised the activity because it was exactly the same as he himself had often been treated, usually for his bullying, a caning bent over that self-same armchair.  It was why he usually wore a couple of extra pairs of football shorts under his trousers just in case.

But as he turned his gaze upwards from the twitching feet, he came across a band of white.  He was puzzled for an instant and then suddenly realised what he was looking at.  Round the girls' knees rested her white knickers.  And as he carried on scanning upwards there were two round, chubby, and totally bare bottom cheeks in view.  She was being caned just as the boys were.  But, unlike the boys, she was getting it with her pants and her tights down.

"Blimey" he said to his mates.  "It's a girl.  She's getting the cane!  Bare arsed too!"  There was a sudden rush to the window of the lab.

Two more twitches of the feet and the girl slid backwards off the chair, stood up, and nodding in recognition of what the Headmaster was obviously saying to her, pulled her pants upwards to their normal resting place, then reached down and pulled her tights back up giving another flash of her snowy white briefs, straightened down her skirt and disappeared from view as she left the room.

"Mandy Lewis!" gasped Morris.  "You dirty little sod, Fortescue.  You've been watching the girls get whacked."

Fortescue looked suitably chastened and blushed a deeper hue.

A thought occurred to Morris.  "Is it often bare bum?"

Fortescue nodded slightly.  "Yes.  In fact for the girls it's always, as you put it, 'bare bum'. He always makes them, you know, take them down.  He only does that to the girls though.  Only the girls.  They always have to pull down their tights and then he makes them pull down their … underwear."

"How many bums have you seen then?  I mean, how many girls have you actually seen being caned on their bare backsides?"

Fortescue bowed his head and mumbled.  "Er - dozens.  Maybe a hundred, … or perhaps more?  Pretty well every girl in the academy actually.  The Head has caned every single one at some time.  I think he rather likes doing it.  He does at least a few every day.  Every day.  He did all the girls of Form 6B1 one lunchtime last week.  One after the other.  And they all had to …. you know … pull them down.  As I say, I think he likes it."

Morris' mind was racing to places it would be better not to race.  The whole of 6B1?  That's at least two dozen girls.  All in one day.  The Headmaster had made all the girls of 6B1 line up outside his study, come in one at a time with the others listening outside, made them bare their backsides completely in front of him, bend right over the chair and then whack them with the cane? And then get the next one in.  The whole form.  Every single one of them.  It was not just Fortescue who was a dirty sod, it seems.

"Have you seen Tracy Evans with her knickers down?  Or what about Sue Collins?  Have you seen her get it? Leia Hudson?  Surely not Leia?  She's as much a swat as you are."

Fortescue nodded again.  "Er, yes.  All of them.  Even Leia."

He blushed even more, if that were possible.  Leia was a kindred spirit, an intelligent and well-behaved girl normally.  She even had glasses like his.  He couldn't imagine what fault the Headmaster had dreamed up to get her to his office for 'disciplining'.  But the Head had found some reason, and she had to do what all the others did, she had to lower her tights right down, and then 'drop them' and bend right over, and when Forters saw her "getting it" on her bare you-know-what he had a slightly greater frisson than normal.  For weeks after if he saw anything pale blue he had a little flashback.  Hers were quite a nice shade of pale blue, draped around her knees.  And whenever he saw her in the following days he felt a very strange sensation 'down there'.

"You haven't seen Diane Craven with them down have you?  Blimey, that would be a sight, bent over like that, getting a whacking."

"About ten times actually.  She seems to get called to his office a lot.  And he always makes her stay bent over up on the chair a long time after he's caned her.  A long, long time.  I think she may be a bit of a favourite of his."

Morris' mouth dropped open.  "And she had to pull them down too?"

"She did.  It's funny, she always wears white ones." he added, with scientific precision and observational accuracy.  He had developed quite a specialist subject knowledge, but not one he could easily choose for Mastermind.  'Colours of the knickers of the girls of the academy'  was quite a limited topic.  He didn't mention to the others at this point that he kept a little notebook of the details.  Day, time, girl's name, colour of her knicks, how many whacks.  He'd keep that information to himself for the moment.

Ever one for scientific precision Fortescue couldn't stop his mouth from working.  "Well, she doesn't wear them when she's actually getting it of course." he added.  "She has to take them right down then so that he can …."  His voice trailed away as he realised he was saying too much, and displaying too much of an enthusiasm for his subject.

But he wasn't the only one.  For once in his life everyone was listening to him, hanging on his every word.  Morris gasped at these pieces of minutiae, but his attention was suddenly distracted by movement back in the office.

"Bloody hell, it's Trudy Davies now!"

They all now jostled to find the best vantage point.  Even without binoculars, even at the distance, they clearly saw a blonde girl approach the armchair from the side of the room where she had been lectured for the last few minutes, out of their view, lift up her skirt right up and grab the waist band of her tights and lower them.  She then reached again under her skirt which had fallen back into place and tugged her knickers down to her knees.  Even from here they could see they were pink.  Another for Forter's records.  She held the back of her skirt right up, exposing the target area unknowingly to them all, and hoisted herself over the back of the armchair.  The Head tapped his cane on the upturned bottom that was in clear view.  The upturned bottom that was as bare as the day she was born.

"Bloody hell….." said Morris again, as the cane whooshed down in the silent distance.  The feet gave a twitch.  And another twitch …. and another ….. six times.

The teachers never did figure out the sudden interest in science.  They never did understand why the boys, who had never shown any interest previously spent every lunchtime working away in the lab..

True - they never really produced any worthwhile results for the amount of time they spent there, but they were at least keen.  Much better than wasting their time playing football.  Much more wholesome pastime.  They obviously had developed a new outlook on life.  The had obviously seen the light.

Thank you GeorgieC!

From Hermione's Heart


Roz said...

Loved this Hermione! Brilliantly written too, and quite quaint. There's nothing like the old English school caning stories:)


Mark said...

Lovely story Hermione

NicholasNYC said...

Thank you for sharing!

NicholasNYC said...

Do you have a link to his other stories? Thanks!

Hermione said...

Roz - I quite agree!

Mark - My pleasure.

NicholasNYC - Click on the GeorgieC label at the bottom of the post. That will take you to a list of all his stories.


NicholasNYC said...

Thank you!

Baxter said...

That reminds me of working in the Chicago Loop back in 1987. Out the back windows of the building, we could see an art studio and often the female models were nude. The studio must have seen us all staring one day as the shades were drawn from that point on. Too bad, it was fun.

GeorgieC said...

So pleased you enjoyed it
Besides the ones I've sent I have a few more new ones just written (they come in waves)
Would you like me to send them across to Hermione?

Anonymous said...

Lovely story, made me grin.