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.

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!

THE EXPERIMENT

"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 the Top Shelf - Slippered

Today I have a real treat for you. Some of you will be familiar with GeorgieC's writings. Just the other day I received a brand new story from that seasoned author. I hope you enjoy it, although GeorgieC warns that the end "may prove a surprise, or a disappointment."

SLIPPERED

"Right, Lewis.  Where were you yesterday?"

She fidgeted and cast her eyes down.   She knew she had been rumbled.  Her hands nervously twitched the hem of her short blue skirt.  It had seemed a bit of fun to take the day off school and just lie around doing nothing.  Particularly as it was double Maths.  But she also knew there would be a reckoning.  Knew it because the school had phoned her Mum at work to find out where Karen was.  Of course when her Mum had got home there had been a lot of shouting and early bed-time, but Karen knew that was only the start.  She knew she would have to face the Headmaster in the morning.

And so the appointed hour of 9 o'clock came.  And here she was stood in front of him, in his office.  Her blonde hair glinted in the light reflecting through the window.  Her blues eyes glistened as tears of shame fought to escape, despite her wishes.

She had no answer.

"I think we both know where you were.  You know of course I have spoken to your mother?"

She nodded, her eyes still downcast.

"She has agreed that I shall punish you severely.  I cannot allow this behaviour to become the norm in this school.  Such behaviour must be clamped down upon."

The fidgeting became more pronounced and one little tear managed to escape down her cheek.

"I propose that you will be slippered."

 She looked up in shock.  Surely not?

"And to ensure that the message gets home to others, I shall do it in front of a specially convened assembly this morning.  You will be slippered in front of the whole school.  Now get out and you will be called when it is time."

How she got through the door she later couldn't remember.  She was in a state of shock.  She had only been at the school a few months, having moved to the area, and so she had no idea that such punishments were meted out.

And in front of the whole school too!  She had only heard of the slipper being used once, in junior school, when a couple of the lads had been sent to the Headmistress for fighting.  They had returned to class red-faced and sat gingerly back in their desks.  Red-faced, and red-cheeked. They showed everyone their marks at breaktime.  Bright glowing, red bottoms.  They told proudly and bravely how they had had to take their pants down, bend over the desk one after the other, watching each other get it, while the Headmistress had given them a mighty six on each cheek, totally bare – twelve in all.  Karen had never considered that girls would be slippered, nor that she would be the one suffering it.  But surely girls wouldn't have to do that pants dropping, would they?  Sixth form girls wouldn't have to bare their bottoms, would they?  Not in front of the whole school.  Would they?

Her friends Sue and Donna approached.

"Well, what's the verdict?"

"I'm going to be slippered."  The tears now were in full flow.  Sue put her arm round her.

"Oh God, that's awful.  But why didn't he just do it there and then?"

"Because he's going to call a special assembly.  He's going to do it in front of everyone."

The two friends gasped.  Their eyes widened and Donna added her arm as support too.

Karen was full of questions.

"How does he… I mean how will I... What does he...?"

Sue blushed a little.

"It's very rare for a girl to be slippered, and I only remember two other times when it was done to a girl in front of everyone.  We have an agreement that we don't mention it in any way afterwards.  It's so embarrassing that it's best not to even think about it.  Just accept it, and we won't mention it.  It's the best way to get through it."

"But – can I just ask?  When he said in front of everyone, he doesn't mean in front of the boys too, does he?  They won't be watching, will they?"  The desperation in her voice was intense.

"Well, I said we don't talk about it, but I suppose you need to know.  Yes, it's in front of the whole school, first form to sixth form.  Girls and boys.  All will be watching.  To be honest the boys like it if it's a girl being slippered.  They like to see the humiliation."

"But how will he...?"

Sue held up her hand.

"No.  It's better not to think about it.  But a word of advice.  When he tells you to take them off, then just do it with as much dignity as you can.  Of course everyone, including the lads, will see, but just maintain your dignity.  Try to keep whatever pride you can."

Karen's worst fears were confirmed.  She remembered the two boys in junior school.  She remembered what she saw, and shook.

The bell rang for lessons to start, and they made their way to class.

Karen's head was in a whirl.  This was far worse than she had expected.  And all the lads would be watching.  Even Johnny Parker.  Well, he was going to have a treat.  Maybe he would be nice to her afterwards, feel sorry for her, maybe even rub it better… No.  Get those thoughts out of your head.  This is going to be awful.

The clock ticked by and at 10:45 the teacher announcer they were all to proceed to the hall, for a "special assembly".

"And Karen – can you go to the Headmaster's office, please"

Her feet felt like lead as she made her way along the corridor.  She did a mental check.  Luckily she had put clean knickers on that day.  Nice bright white ones.  Not that they would be party to the proceedings, if she understood correctly.  Which way would she be facing?  With her face towards the whole school, so everyone would see her expressions and her tears and her anguish, or the other end pointing towards the school, so everyone would see... would see her… would see her bum…?  The idea was of course humiliation, to warn others off, there could only be one answer. Everyone would see everything that went on. Every girl in the school.  Every boy in the school.  They would all clearly see her being punished in a most humiliating manner.  She trembled slightly.

She arived at his office and without a word he gestured for her to follow him to the Hall, and they both entered the back of the stage.  There was a sea of faces, 864 of them, roughly half boys half girls.  Number 865 looked anxiously out at them.  Boys, girls, female teachers, male teachers.  Mr "pervy" Dawson had made sure he got a good view.  He would!  And was that the caretaker right at the back?

The Head signalled she should wait at the side of the stage.

"When I call you to the centre of the stage you will take your position and when I tell you to take them off I shall expect you to do it straightaway.  No delay.  We will get this over as quickly as possible.  Do you understand?"

She nodded, her mind a whirl and numb at the same time.  He strode out to the centre of the stage.

"It is my terrible duty to inform you that a sixth form girl, Karen Lewis, decided to play truant yesterday.  You are all, I hope, aware that this is viewed as one of the most serious offences in this school.  And therefore one which must be dealt with most severely.  Karen Lewis will be slippered in front of you all, as a warning to everybody."

There was a growing hubbub amongst the throng.  Some of the boys shuffled in their seats to get a better view.  At least that could be one reason why they shuffled in their seats.

"Step forward, Lewis."

She walked slowly to the centre of the stage.  All the time her head was full of questions.

How far down should she pull them?  Just enough to expose the target, or down to her knees, or right to her ankles?  He'd said 'take them off'.  Did that mean she had to take them completely off?

Should she hold up her skirt to keep it in place?  Making sure everyone gets a good view.  Oh God!

How far should she bend over?  Just a slight incline, or hands on knees, or touching toes with absolutely everything on show?  Everything!

She stood in front of him.  Feeling every eye on her.  She realised without knowing that she was stood facing him, facing the back of the stage, with her back fully towards the audience.  Was that his plan, or had she subconsciously complied?

"Right, Miss Lewis.  Take... your... shoes... off."  His words were spaced and precise.

Karen paused, puzzled. The Headmaster hissed quietly.

"I told you to do it when told."

She nodded and bent down quickly to unfasten the straps of her shoes, and in doing so her short skirt rode up giving a display to the whole school.  Her clean white pants were fully on show to anyone who cared to look.  And all the boys, and all the male teachers, and the caretaker, all cared to look.  She stood up, her feet clad in just the white knee high socks.

"Mrs Davies."

The deputy Head strode purposefully from the side of the stage, holding a box.

Why is the slipper stored in a ceremonial box?  Karen now was confused.  This really is a formal occasion.  Full of theatre pour encourager les autres.

The Head opened the box and withdrew two bright red slippers, ordinary household slippers.  With white faux-fur and the words "Naughty Girl" emblazoned upon them in gold glittery letters.

"Right.  Put these on."

Confused she bent down to comply, once again giving the whole school, and particularly the boys, and particularly Johnny, another bright white eyeful.

"Right, girl you will wear these for the next two days, so that everyone can see how wicked you have been."

Karen's cheeks glowed red with the embarrassment.  She understood now why no-one ever mentioned it.  Being 'slippered' was an awful punishment for a girl her age.

The humiliation was complete. The shame glowed. The embarrassment severe. She could now see everyone in the school giggling and sniggering, pointing, whispering to each other.

Oh how easy it would have been just to hitch up her skirt, drop her knicks, bend right over, and get six, or even a dozen, of the very best, in front of everyone, with her pert bum on display.  Even on display to the boys.  And the teachers.  Yes, even to the caretaker. That could be lived with, and even maybe laughed at sometime later.  But this?  This was inhumane.

She made a vow she would never, ever, be slippered again.

Not what you expected?

From the Top Shelf - The Last Chords

This is another of those wonderful GeorgieC school stories and I am so pleased to be able to share it with you here.

The last chords of the hymn faded away, and the pupils sat down noisily.

The Headmaster strode to the front of the stage and gazed out at the 984 pairs of eyes looking back at him. The clock at the back of the Hall ticked on to 9 o'clock precisely.

"Before I dismiss Assembly this morning, I have an unfortunate task to complete." His eyes swept the school gathered before him. "Yesterday afternoon someone entered my office and made a photocopy of the final year English Language examination paper."

There was a muffled gasp from the assembled throng. Millwood High School was renowned as being a school of high integrity and moral tradition, reinforced by a strong disciplinary regime. The idea that someone from the school could demean themselves to such an extent, or more importantly, run the risk of facing the consequences of such an action was almost incomprehensible. A low murmuring developed, and some of the younger pupils visibly shook at the thought.

"Silence!" The murmuring subsided immediately.

"I will give the culprit, whoever he or she may be, the opportunity to own up now, and come along to my office after Assembly to accept the penalty for their actions." He stood silently and waited. The clock ticked on, two minutes past nine. Three minutes past nine. The atmosphere was electric. No-one moved for fear of being implicated by the slightest twitch, but eyes all around the Hall swivelled from left to right to see if anyone else moved. No-one did.

He spoke again, his tone authoritative but calm. "Right then - I have no alternative but to ask Sarah Harvey from Form 6A to come up here onto the stage".

There was an immediate chorus of noise from the Hall. Sarah Harvey? She was the school's star pupil. Much was expected of her. She was guaranteed a good University place next year, maybe even an Oxbridge place - surely she couldn't be involved?

From the back of the Hall where the Sixth Form sat Sarah rose and slowly started to make her way to the front of the Hall. Her legs were shaking, her face was crimson, but above all her mind was in turmoil. How on earth could he know it had been her?

It had been an act of kindness, a typical thoughtful act. Her boyfriend Matt Lewis wasn't academic like her, although he worked hard. He struggled and muddled his way through, and although she had tried to coach him he couldn't grasp everything - or frankly even enough to cover all the possible topics that might crop up. So she had formulated an idea - one that would help Matt get the success in exams that his hard work deserved. To be sure of success she would coach him in the topics that would crop up. She would sneak into the Headmaster's office and take a copy of the papers which she had seen on his desk in an envelope earlier in the day when she had been discussing her University applications.

The thing was that no-one would suspect her at all - she wouldn't need to see the papers in advance to get a high mark. It would, of course, be obvious that the papers had been tampered with, and although Matt would normally be a prime suspect, he was playing a school football match, watched by the Headmaster. The perfect alibi.

Just to make sure though, Sarah resolved to tell no-one, no-one at all, about her plan. That way, no-one could give her away. Even Matt wouldn't know, and hopefully would just think it coincidence that the very topics she had coached him were the ones that came up on the exam. It was foolproof.

And yet, here she now was reaching the stairs at the foot of the stage, slowly climbing the stairs, all ten of them, now standing beside the Headmaster on the stage, the whole school watching, silent now, but aghast at the drama being played out in front of them.

The Headmaster looked sternly at her. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?" He didn't even give her the chance to deny the charge. That he knew for certain was crystal clear.

She shook her head, the tears welling up in her blue eyes. She was in fact only slightly smaller than the Headmaster, but now crestfallen and forlorn she appeared much smaller. The blonde ponytail swayed from side to side. Her hands fidgeted away at the edges of her blue skirt, her knees were visibly shaking. She had no answers, only one question. A question she could not really ask, but which she inwardly begged for an answer "How does he know it was me?"

"I should of course expel you immediately for such a gross breach of trust". More tears welled up in her eyes, and started to course their way down her cheeks. She bit her lip, trying to stifle a loud sob.

"However, in view of the fact that you have such prospects ahead of you, prospects that would be ruined by such an action, I am prepared to offer an alternative punishment - a caning."

Sarah looked even more forlorn at this prospect, but slowly nodded. Only once before in her entire school life had she been caned, and vowed avidly that it would never happen again. She had been in the Third Form, and she, two other girls and four of the boys had been caught out of bounds at the village sweet shop. She remembered vividly the queue in the corridor outside the Headmaster's office. She remembered the sounds travelling through the closed door of the canings being administered within. The shuffle forward as one unfortunate left the Study, face red and moist, to be replaced by the pupil at the front of the queue. She remembered vividly it being her turn - the lecture, raising her skirt up to her waist in front of the Headmaster, bending over the chair. She remembered the four stinging whacks across her white knickers, and then it was over. She vowed never to be caned again - and yet here she was, a Sixth Former now, agreeing in front of the whole school to a caning. She desperately tried to remember what knicks she had put on that morning, hoping that they would offer some protection for the coming ordeal.

"As you did not avail yourself of the opportunity offered before, however, of being honest straight away and owning up to your misdeed, I shall administer the punishment as an example to all. I will administer the punishment here and now in front of the school - I will administer a full public caning."

For the first time Sarah spoke. "No! Please not that, sir!! Pl-e-e-e-ease!!!"

Another gasp arose from the school, and this time many of the boys were beginning to sit up and take notice. A full public caning! Of a girl!!

In living memory of the school there had only been four full public canings, and all of those were to boys. The thought of what that entailed was now causing great interest and commotion. Opinions were already being expressed. "No, not for girls, she won't have to….I know they did, but it's different for boys….No, not in front of the boys, she'll keep them on…..He's not allowed to…."

The Headmaster glared at the Assembly. "Quiet!"

Suddenly, before Sarah knew what was happening Mr Dobson was bringing a chair from the back of the stage. He placed it behind Sarah as she looked over the sea of faces, each one wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Mrs Lees seemed to glide from the back of the stage, and handed the Senior cane to the Headmaster.

"Turn round, Sarah, face the back of the stage, and raise your skirt up to your waist".

Sarah couldn't believe this was happening to her, but hoping desperately that by complying she may avoid the worst possibility - avoid what she herself had witnessed during the boys' public canings. It was not to be.

"Pull your pants down and bend over the chair".

The boys in the audience sat up straight, straining for a better view. Sarah knew she was defeated, and, hoping that at least Matt would appreciate the view, she slowly slid her white knickers down to her knees and reached far over the back of the chair. Her bare bottom faced out towards the school.

Six times the cane rose, six times it fell with a loud crack, and six times Sarah squealed, each time louder than the last. And at last it was over. She stood up, and delicately pulled her pants back up over her aching and, as all in the school could see, very red bottom.

She stood and listened as the Headmaster gave a lecture to her and to all around - a lecture about honesty, integrity, trust, and most of all retribution. She painstakingly made her way back to her seat at the back of the Hall, watched all the way by the entire population of the school, both pupils and teachers.

But as she made her way back, one thought kept pounding through her head. "How did he know it was me?"

The Headmaster made his way back to his office, picked up the controller, and pressed the Play button for the Video recorder.

There on the TV screen, filmed by the secret security camera, Sarah was clearly to be seen, entering his office, opening the envelope, photocopying the papers, leaving the room.

He smiled briefly and nodded. Justice had been done.

Cheaters never prosper.