From the Top Shelf - The Lights

GeorgieC has written another story and has kindly allowed me to publish it here. If you like school discipline stories, this one's for you. If you don't, then scroll down to read something else.

THE LIGHTS

There were two girls already standing outside the door when she arrived.  The light glowed red, telling everyone to wait while some poor miscreant was being dealt with behind the closed door.  The sound of a slipper regularly and rhythmically meeting its target drifted through the door.  The noise stopped abruptly, and after a couple of moments the door opened.

The light turned to amber – wait in readiness – as the door swung to and a lad rushed out, rosy cheeked.  The rosy cheeks were not just on his face, as he almost ran down the corridor clutching his nether regions, seeking some cooling relief in a sink full of water in the boys' toilets.

"Oh God" said the girl at the front of the queue looking back at her companions.  "I've never had it before.  I'm scared."

The new arrival, we'll call her Hazel for the good reason that was her name, smiled gently at the girl.

"It's your first time?  It won't be too bad.  He doesn't go too bad on first timers"

She remembered her first time.  Something to do with messing about in class, if she remembered right.  It was such a long time ago.  A lot of water under the bridge since then.  The classroom teacher had enough and sent her to the Head.  In retrospect she realised that he would have preferred to deal with her himself, but wasn't allowed.  He was like that. He probably got a thrill just sending girls along.  He sometimes asked them with a smirk when they came back what they had got.

But off she went to the Head's office.  She too had felt trepidation about the unknown.  The trembling wait outside, the wait to see the light turn green.  And then in to face her fate.

He had been more understanding than she had expected.  He seemed to understand that girls would be girls, that messing about was part and parcel of school life.  But also that it cannot be tolerated and she would have to pay a penalty.

She was directed to his desk and told to lean right across it, her arms stretched out in front of her as far as she could reach.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw him extract his slipper from the drawer.  He walked round behind her, and with just the gentlest touch, he smoothed down her skirt. Just a gentle stroke, flattening out the creases. And perhaps just lightly checking there was no added protection. And then the first whack arrived.

She remembered how it took her breath away, and how the second and third arrived in quick succession.  And then that was it.  All over, stand up, and back to class.  First time offence dealt with.  It stung of course, and she had squirmed a bit when she tried to sit down back at her desk.  But it wasn't going to be life-changing.

The light turned green, and the first-timer girl at the front stepped inside and closed the door behind her.  Red now glowed brightly.  The "someone's getting it" light as it was known.
Vaguely muffled conversation could be heard, then a pause, then the sound of three solid whacks were heard.  And then again silence.

The door suddenly opened, and the girl exited rapidly, tears streaming down her face, firmly clutching her behind with both hands.  She too raced down the corridor, seeking solace in a sink of cooling water, but this time in the girls' toilets.  The light showed amber again.  They waited.

The girl in front of Hazel looked back at her.

"Wish it was my first time.  This is my fourth.  He's not quite so understanding after the first, is he?"

Hazel forced a little smile.  After that first episode she had been "dealt with" a number of times since.  Messing about, talking, smoking, a spot of truancy, missed homeworks, fighting, cheek to teachers … it was quite a litany. Certainly more than four.  Significantly more than four.
 
And after the first time the punishment was more severe.  As her comrade in front of her had said, it was less understanding.

Enter the study through the door, and those unfortunates outside awaiting their fate, both boys and girls, would see the light change from amber to red.  The pattern was a constant one.  A lecture pointing out why whatever behaviour it had been was unacceptable.  How he had hoped that she would have learned to behave better, but as she hadn't then she would have to face the consequences.

She learned the routine quickly.  In fact she always thought that maybe he could cut out the lecture and just jump straight to the action.  It would save a lot of time.

Over to the desk, but this time she hitched her skirt right up displaying her regulation white knickers to the Headmaster's gaze.  She was 100% sure that was what he wanted.  It wasn't now a matter of discipline. There were very few in the school who remained as "first timers".   

She wasn't sure what happened to the boys, but she was certain it wasn't pleasant.  But he had probably put his slipper across the knickers of pretty well every girl in the school over the years.  And while we use the word "pretty" in that context, it had been noted that pretty girls seemed to get the whacks far more frequently.  Hazel, in case I hadn't mentioned, was very pretty.

So, bend over the desk again, reach right out and look forward as he looked down on the knicker-clad bottom, and then six of the very best stingers on the bum.  She had at one time tried wearing thicker and fuller pants when she knew she was in for a whacking, but it only served to piss him off a bit and make him hit harder, so she abandoned that tactic.  He seemed to appreciate the gesture with slightly more controlled and less vigorous strokes.  Although the process took a little longer.

The light turned green and the girl in front took a deep breath, summoned up her courage, and went in.  The light glowed red again.

Hazel was now alone in the corridor with her thoughts.  All was silent except for the muffled conversation coming through the door.  The words "lift your skirt right up and bend over the desk" drifted on the breeze.  And then the rhythmic sound started again.  More measured than those given to the first-timer.  Not so rushed.  A slow rhythmic whack that reached a count of six and then stopped abruptly.

Another short pause and the door opened.  The girl appeared.  She was obviously more experienced than the previous two, and she just walked out sedately down the corridor as though she had just handed in a letter.  There was no trace of anguish.  No strangeness to the walk.  No hands clutching her rear.  She managed to maintain her dignity through the obvious discomfort.

Hazel studied the amber light.

Every time had been the same up to now.  Skirt up, over the desk, then six of the very best with that minimal protection.  And when he's finished doing what he had to do, and she had to wait a moment or two still bent over and exposed while he put his slipper away and walked around behind you again, stand up, push your skirt back down, and get out.  Every time.  Until last time.

Because when she stood up last time the Headmaster had a dire warning for her.  He had got "sick of seeing your face in my office".  She remembered he had said those exact words, because it occurred to her that it wasn't her face he usually saw.  She was wise enough not to say anything though.  But never mind.  He was sick of her repeated attendance in his office.  So he had issued a stern warning.

He made it abundantly clear what would happen if she ever found herself here again.  He was absolutely detailed in the consequences of continued bad behaviour.  She was left in no doubt.

But, despite the warning, here she was again.  Smoking may not be literally the death of her at the moment, but it certainly was a big challenge to her well-being.  A trap of her own making she fell into time and time again.  And she had fallen into the trap yet again.

So here she was and she knew that she was in big trouble now.  But she had no option but to accept her fate.

She was just going to have to grin and bear it.

Well, she may not actually grin.  In fact, she knows it certainly is not going to be a grinning matter.

But she knew that this time she was certainly going to have to bear it.  Well, actually to be literally correct, she was going not just to bear it, but to bare it. Big knickers or small briefs were not going to have any part to play in the tragedy about to be performed.  She was going to have to bare it completely in front of him.  He had made that quite clear.

This time they will have to come down, right down, down to her knees, and she knew when she bent over the desk and reached out that it's going to really sting like never before.

The light turned green.

With a sigh, she entered the study, closed the door, the light turned red and, dear reader, as promised she had to bare it.  With no sign of a grin.