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 - My Dirtiest Fantasy

Today I have a special treat for you. This story was sent to my by longtime reader and new brunch participant Jeanie. Her writing is very eloquent and oh so hot! In fact, I must warn you that there are parts that are sexually explicit, but there's plenty of spanking too.

My Dirtiest Fantasy

My boyfriend had to travel over the Memorial Day weekend. I missed him terribly, so badly that I masturbated myself to sleep every night while he was away. Pleasuring myself is not something Kyle approves of me doing, so I made sure that I told him all about it when he phoned me Sunday night.

“What's more,” I continued, “I was reading some D/s blogs, and one was about which room in your house you usually get spanked in. So I wrote in, telling them all about how we do it in every room in the house!” Kyle hates for me to air our kinky laundry in public almost as much as detests the idea of me touching myself. “Anonymously, of course,” I added about my blogging.

“You're trying to earn yourself a memorable spanking, aren't you, little girl?”

“Yes, Sir!” I answered brightly. “Memorable for Memorial Day. I'm feeling absolutely insatiable, my love. How soon will you be home to address my needs, my love?”

“I can't get there any sooner than what I've already told you, not til Monday night, naughty girl.”

“I'll try to hold on, lover mine, but you know what the Bible says…? The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak...”

“Just know that when I get home, the first thing I'm gonna do is spank the holy hell out of your cute ass.”

“I'm counting on it, lover. Hurry home.” I hung up. Strong feelings of guilt didn't prevent me from pulling my panties to the side in order to diddle my hungry pussy as I simultaneously logged onto our computer with sticky fingers.

At six P.M. Monday evening I had several pizzas delivered and a nice red wine bottle opened. I knew that the wine could breathe and we like cold pizza almost as much as when it's hot. I was naked when Kyle walked through the door, and bent over deeply in the middle of the room, presenting him with the choice of fragrant food or flagrant kink. Kyle chose wisely. He wrapped his left arm around my waist and held me tight as he began spanking my proffered butt really hard. The cruel slaps flooded my system with endorphins in no time, the blistering still hurt, but I floated above it all, enjoying the agony.

“I misbehaved on purpose, lover. I really need this,” I was able to enunciate through the pain.

“I know,” my lover replied.

“I'm not sorry. Make me sorry...”

The spanking went on for an eternity. I have a big bottom, and my Top covered every square inch of its roundness with heat. He spanked the backs of my thighs. He spanked me up the crack of my ass and on my rosebud. Then he returned to give my cheeks a second dose. My lover took all the starch out of me; he disciplined me until I was limp, worn out. Being an expert Dom, he read me perfectly.

Picking me up and carrying me to the bedroom, Kyle asked, “Learned your lesson?”

I nodded.

He wiped the tears from my cheeks, then used both moistened hands to cup and caress my throbbing backside. Our eyes remained locked, saying more than words ever could. He kissed me. I opened to him. He pushed his erection into my receptive sex and we made love in the Missionary position with our eyes closed in exquisite synchronization. I climaxed, feeling warm and fuzzy and fulfilled. Kyle thrust into me with renewed vigor as he kneaded the sore flesh of my fanny. I gasped audibly, I saw red and felt energized by the stoking of the fire that still burned there. He fucked me hard and I came again. He'd pushed me up the sheer slopes to two plateaus, higher than I think I'd ever been taken before. I was panting and sweating, but not done yet. Our eyes met, he saw my wanton desire, I saw the steely resolve. I shivered, suddenly chilled and covered with goose bumps, ready to say that I was sated, but he didn't give me that chance.

Kyle took me by the ankles and flipped me over onto my tummy. His left arm encircled my big bum as he parted me and anointed my rectum with lubricant that we keep handy for just such circumstances. He spit on my little brown spot, then crawled over me. I felt his hard cock press onto my rosebud. For the hundredth time, I wanted to scream for him to stop, sure that his big thing would never fit up my tight dimple. But just like every other time he'd taken me there, I relaxed and felt him penetrate my butt. There is nothing so profoundly primal as feeling a hard cock possess you in your most private place. I sighed as I felt his short curlies tickle the crack of my ass. No sooner was he balls deep up my butt than he reversed and I had to remind myself all over again to relax. I have never felt so fucked as when I've been fucked there, and never more so than this time, when there was an edge to it, when I'd been bad and my man was set on punishing me. The ass fucking was an extension of the hard spanking, it was all simply scorching heat applied to my tender backside, outside or in. It melted me down to my submissive essence. It was a forge that purified me.

“Fuck my ass, lover!” I cried out.

He plunged back into my depths. It felt like he was splitting me in half right up my crack. It burned. I had the image invade my mind that he was a bulldozer plowing a path into my core. I ignited and was engulfed in flames by the intensity.

“Fuck me where it's dirty, where it's sinful! Make me your whore, your butt-fuck whore, fuck me…!”

He did. He ass-fucked me while I yelled profanities. He fucked me up the bum while I cried. He fucked me where it's forbidden until I'd shed all my tears and my voice was hoarse. I felt consumed by his rogering of me where it's shameful. I felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes of my used and abused butthole and buttocks, a new creation altogether. My hands sought out his, I entwined my fingers into his fists where he propped himself up.

“I'm gonna cum!” I whispered urgently. “When I do,” I said with renewed energy,” my anus is going to suck the cum out of you. Cum with me…!”

As hot as all this was, I wanted it to be even hotter. As should be clear by now, I like to live out my sexual proclivities. I'm a self-actualized submissive who revels in her orientation. But I have one cherished fantasy that makes whatever I'm doing all the better. My dirtiest fantasy is to do everything I do with my lover in broad daylight in full public view, Out.

So I started running a tape in my head, fantasizing that all we had done was for an audience. I ran through my favorite venues. Should I choose Disney World, the happiest place on earth? Maybe at some chic Parisian restaurant like Le Tour de Argent, where they believe the fork was first used as an eating utensil? No, I decided on one of my most cherished locales on this planet, the natural beauty of a beach where many patrons enjoy it in their natural state. I began fantasizing about going to Black's Beach in La Jolla. I envisioned Kyle pulling my bikini bottoms down to spank me as he had, loudly, unforgivingly, without mercy. We'd make heads turn! I fantasized about fucking in the sunshine and salty air, first sweetly and then sweatily. What are they doing, sunworshippers would ask? My fantasies caught up with us and I imagined taking it deep up the butt while beach-goers gawked. Oh, my God, our onlookers would reply, look at the passion they are displaying, look at the place where they're doing it! I wanted/needed to make it sexier still.

“Kyle,” I moaned softly, “I feel guilty... for enjoying my punishment so much... After we climax, I want you to whip me… I want you to cane my deserving butt… hard. Will you cane me… meaningfully... lover…?”

In our household, I get punished with a wide variety of implements and pervertables, but rarely with the cane. It'd been a long time since I'd felt its wicked bite. In our household, I AM hand spanked with great frequency for “topping from the bottom,” the sin I was just committing.
“If you need a caning, you'll get a caning, young lady,” he assured me without losing his rhythm.
“...Thank you, lover!...You're so good to me! ...Now fuck me like you mean it,” and I pushed back into him as he thrust and we fucked faster and hotter and we could feel the heat building, so I gripped his hands in mine all the tighter and gripped his cock in my velvet vice all the tighter and I exploded in orgasm. My anus spasmed, my sizable glutes flexed. I came, grinding my sex into the mattress imagining it was the sand and our audience was still voyeuring spellbound on the beach.

We cuddled. I crawled in close, my head on his collarbone, my legs pulled up tight, his hand reassuringly resting on my tush. I needed this time, as I slowly resurfaced from the depths of my sub space. He gave me time, petting my hair, caressing my bottom, kissing me on the forehead, the nose tip, my lips. Then his arms encircled me, held me tight as he kissed behind an ear and down my neck. Goosebumps again took flight across the entire expanse of my epidermis.
Kyle whispered, “You spoke of needing a caning...”

I wanted to say that it was just my passion mouthing-off, that it was intended to arouse him and nothing more. I was exhausted, empty.

But I had meant it. I had wilfully disobeyed my lover, blogged about private matters while pleasuring my privates flagrantly and repeatedly. I'd behaved badly, been a naughty, nasty little girl. What is more, I had really enjoyed the sinful-to-the-point-of-forbidden act of anal sex, had reveled in my enjoyment of it. Kyle knew all this, but there was something more. I had enjoyed my freedom over the weekend without my Top there to direct me. I felt that I needed to reassert my submission. All these things ran through my mind in a nanosecond.

“Yes. I did. I… I need for you to cane me. I'll let you decide how many stripes I deserve. But, please, make sure I'm well and truly punished...” And I got up from the bed and bent over its edge, thrusting my bottom out.

Kyle went to fetch the cane from the closet, a thin, whippy rod that I'd only felt twice before in my life, and never with full force. He stood behind my behind and tapped the summit of my cheeks menacingly.

“I need for you to mark me. I need to feel this punishment for days,” I said bravely, then immediately recanted and asked, “Can I touch myself while you punish me?”

Kyle laughed derisively. You want to pleasure yourself while being punished…?”

Tears filled my eyes. “I don't think I can get through it otherwise...”

“I'm going to give you three hard stripes. If you take them like the good girl I want you to be, I'll let you touch yourself for the next three. We'll see how six of the best look glowing from your backside and decide then if you need still more stripes. Sound workable?”

I nodded, pushed my butt out further. I felt the rod tap my tush, then disappear. I heard a fearful swish cut through the air, simultaneously felt and heard the dreaded thwack burn into me, heard me yelp loudly. I could not believe how much that thin line hurt, burned, blazed its way into my entire being. I wanted to stand and seize my cheeks with both hands and scream that this was enough!

Instead I blinked away the tears and bent over deeper and carefully enunciated, “Thank you, sir. That's one. May I please have another…?”

Kyle was impressed with that gesture, but it did not soften his resolve to give his sub a memorable thrashing.

It took more than twice the resolve for me to absorb the second lash and repeat my mantra, exponentially more to take the third. I discovered that a cane stripe hurts like a motherfucker when it slashes across one's ass, but burns even more as it throbs afterward, as if the very air fuels the fire that burns there. My knees nearly buckled as that third lick seared its way into my soul. Whimpers gurgled up out of me that I could not swallow. I did not ask permission, I just thrust both hands down to my loins. The fingers of one hand opened my sex's labia, the fingers of the other circled my clit and frigged myself viciously. I wasn't fantasizing now. I was a lonely little girl getting her butt whipped and I needed consolation. Pleasure rippled through my insides, just a little electric jolt, but it was enough. I stuck my bottom out at my lover and stopped frigging long enough so that the target would hold still.

Swish, Thwack, “Yeow!” And I masturbated like a crazed monkey until I got that jolt.

Swish, Thwack, “Fuck!” Over and over. I was crying like a baby, wounded like an animal, in the basement of my sub space, but slowly, ever so gradually, my old friends, a surge of endorphins washed over me. I thrust my striped butt back at Kyle proudly and took his next lash, over and over.

For his part, Kyle did not want to beat his lover this hard. But he saw that she needed it. Her body language kept proclaiming, “Thank you, sir; may I have another?” She presented her wounded ass resolutely like a request, and he answered that plea with pain.

After twelve vivid welts radiated from my backside, Kyle turned me from leaning over our bed, so that I stood alone.

“Bend over deeper,” he commanded.

I obeyed. I felt my ravaged buttocks part, knew that I was now completely exposed. The tap of the cane told me that the next one would not just stripe my cheeks, but would reach into the crack, would punish my well-used anus, too.

Swish. Thwack!

The pain was other-worldly. I crumpled, unable to present my bottom to my Master for any more from his rod. I was broken, and therein I felt healed.

He ended up giving me a baker's dozen, thirteen blazing stripes, perfectly parallel, a patch of raised welts from where my butt crack started down to the under-curve where my cheeks meet my thighs.

I did not sleep a wink that night. I'd lay down next to my man for a bit, then launch out of bed to look at my bruises and welts over my shoulder in a full length mirror and marvel. I especially enjoyed taking a painful pinch of each buttock and pull my bum apart to stare at the stripe that touched my ruby red butthole. The view in the mirror excited me, but I did not masturbate. For the only time in my adult life, I felt above the need for sex. I didn't need sleep at those moments, either. I wore a red badge of courage across my round rump. My boyfriend had taken me to the mountaintop, to the pinnacle experience for this sub. I was satisfied.

Jeanie would love to know what you thought of her story.

From the Top Shelf - Beverly and the Principal, conclusion

We are back in the principal's office for some long-overdue discipline.

One week later…

The sexy looking adult woman in the attire of a teenage schoolgirl stood nervously in front of the desk as the Principal lectured her about her behavior. She wore an abbreviated plaid skirt that ended several inches above the knee, displaying the taut lines of her legs. Her breasts pushed against the tight white blouse in front and her pert bottom jutted out in back. Her hands were behind her back and she shuffled nervously from foot to foot. The principal finished the scolding and slid open a drawer.

Inside was a short wooden paddle. It had a legend on it that said “Heat for the Seat”. He pointed to the desk. The schoolgirl leaned over placing her elbows on the desk. The Principal moved to her rear, gripping the little paddle. Placing it under his arm he raised the schoolgirl’s skirt in back to reveal a plump and shapely bottom clad in brief white panties. The Principal placed his thumbs in the elastic of the panties and ignoring the protests from the schoolgirl, drew them down to her knees. The unveiling revealed the lush rounded globes of a shapely posterior. He patted the lush cheeks then stood to her side and tapped her with the paddle. Then he drew back his arm.

Smack! Smack! Smack! The Principal delivered three brisk swats that had the schoolgirl dancing and shuffling. Another three and she was arching her back and wailing. The pert cheeks quivered as the paddle struck. The next volley was four whacks that had her standing on tip-toe.

“Ooooh….owwweee!” she yelped.

He gave her three more, slow, deliberate and harder. At the last of these she shot up and clapped her hands to her buttocks, rubbing furiously.

“Oh, Ward, Omigod…..that really stings.”

“And that,” said Ward with a wry chuckle, “Is what naughty girlfriends get in this Principal’s office.”

In truth it wasn’t his office, it was the den in his apartment, and Beverly was no schoolgirl.

Beverly continued to rub, but then licked her lips. In a husky voice she said, “Ok, I deserved that. But now that I’ve been properly punished, I’ll show just how naughty I can be.” Before Ward could respond, she had dropped to her knees and deftly unzipped his fly. As she suspected he was in full arousal. Beverly licked the swollen member up and down the its length. She could hear Ward gasp as she swirled her tongue around the head. Satisfied that he was ready, she took his hand. “You come with me,” she said, dragging him toward the bedroom.

The paddling had made her bottom throb with heat, but that same heat was now driving her to full arousal. She pushed Ward onto his back and mounted him, sitting astride his torso. She lowered herself onto the erect shaft, which was sticking straight up, and began a rocking motion. Beverly tore off the schoolgirl blouse and unclasped her bra, allowing her breasts to spring free. Ward reached up with his hands and grasped the hardened nipples. She bent forward, smothering his face with kisses, and together they sprinted toward climax. As they ground their bodies against one another, Ward’s penis rubbed against her clitoris. A white hot explosion erupted from her core and she came, bucking and thrashing. Ward was right behind her and she felt his body stiffen and jerk as his climax arrived.

Later, they lay side by side.

“If that’s what happens when you’re naughty, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to curb that behavior,” said Ward, chuckling.

“You can try,” she said with a coquettish smile. “You can try any time at all.”

I suspect he will be trying often.

From the Top Shelf - Beverly and the Principal, part 4

Let's resume our story and see if Beverly and Ward ever meet again. To refresh your memory, here are part1, part 2 and part 3.

Several days later she was shopping again for groceries. There in the produce aisle, once again, was Ward McCollum. When he saw her, he joked, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Bev laughed. “Of course, but rather here than in your office.” She almost rubbed her behind, but stopped herself.

Then he had to laugh. She had a point there. Then he became serious. “I have to ask, how is Haley at home? Around school she seems to be doing fine now. I don’t see any of that rebelliousness. I hated to use the paddle, you know, but sometimes that’s what works. Say would you join me for another cup of coffee?”

Bev felt flattered. From his manner she wondered if he was interested in her, as a woman, not just as Haley’s mother. She hoped so. “Sure. I’ll just check out.”

“Same shop--- on the next corner. I’ll meet you there.”

They met again at the coffee shop. Their conversation this time was more cordial. Ward seemed very nice once he was able to put aside his role as The Principal. As she suspected, Ward had no wife.

Then, to her absolute surprise Ward asked her out. She then surprised herself and accepted. “I took a chance here,” he said. “After all, our previous meetings have been, ah, not so pleasant.”

“I know,” said Bev, “so it is weird, just a bit. But, I’d better meet you somewhere.” Ward laughed.

 “I can see the wisdom in that. I’m not sure Haley would welcome me into your house.”

“You know, Ward, she really was ok about it afterward. I thought she’d be resentful and angry, but I think you were right. A short sharp shock is what she needed to turn her around.” Then Bev added, almost as if talking to herself, “I guess I needed it too.”

Ward took that in. “It was very brave, what you did. It’s admirable. And if I may say, you are a very attractive lady.”

Bev blushed, thinking about the rear view she had presented him with. Truth be known, she had to admit, her sexuality had always been centered around her bottom. It was her primary erogenous zone. She liked for men to fondle it, to knead it. It drove her crazy. But spanking it? That paddle had hurt, but the feeling afterwards had been sensuous. Would she want that again? No she decided, but then she studied Ward’s hands. They were large. What would his hands feel like?

* * *

Three months later…

Ward had courted her and the relationship had developed nicely, albeit slowly. They’d dined out, had gone to a few shows, and even one night dancing (although the dancing had been to a country band -- not her favorite). He sure was taking his time though, sighed Beverly. So far, no fireworks. He was a bit old fashioned in that respect, and she wondered when he would make a move. She was certainly ready. Replaying in her mind the scene in his office was arousing now even though it had been embarrassing and painful at the time. What must she have looked like, bending over and sticking her bottom out like that? But that and Ward’s forceful treatment of her, that’s what had her thinking very naughty thoughts. It was frustrating that he was moving so slowly. Maybe he felt he had to, given his position.

Now he had invited her to a costume party. It was a charity function and all the prominent folks in Hot Springs and some dignitaries from Fort Smith and Little Rock would be there. Ward was going to go in character and be The Principal, complete with formal gown and mortar board hat. Bev decided to compliment this by going as schoolgirl. In a thrift shop she found a plaid jumper and saddle oxfords. Then she added knee socks.

She looked herself over in the mirror. The jumper was short. It ended well above her knee, showing plenty of leg. Her breasts filled the white blouse nicely. Overall, she had to admit it was sexy -- thirty five year old schoolgirl Lolita, that was her. To cap it off, she put her hair in twin pigtails. The short plaid skirt, the tight top that her breasts strained against, the knee socks---she had to admit, it was a sexy tease to be sure. She wanted cute, not schoolgirl slut, but what the hell, she thought. Maybe it would light a fire under The Principal, as she had mentally dubbed him, and get things rolling.

Ward did a double take upon picking her up at her door, shaking his head and giving her a low whistle. That secretly pleased her even as she pretended embarrassment at his reaction. The party was to be held at the Sutton estate, a large manor house that had been the country home of a wealthy industrialist, but was now a property used as a conference center. It had a grand ballroom, a large study, a library, and sixteen bedrooms upstairs.

“There are some people here that I’ll need to talk to,” he told her. “There’s the superintendent for the county and some county commissioners and state legislators. Our budget is coming up and I need to get my two cents in.”

“And I thought we were here just to have a good time,” she teased.

“Well, I do have to do a little politicking,” he admitted. “But it will be fun. I promise.”

It was nice being with Ward. He introduced her to everyone he talked to. Beverly really didn’t know anyone, but she dutifully played the attentive escort. Every one they met remarked on the complimentary outfits, he The Principal and she the Schoolgirl. She got appreciative once-overs from the men. A few joked mildly at her expense.

“Very nice costume. But, I hope you behave yourself, young lady, and you don’t find yourself sent to the principal’s office.” And everyone would chuckle. If they only knew.

Then he started talking business with local politicians and Beverly grew bored. They were serving champagne. It always made her light headed. Before she knew it she was floating quite freely and feeling euphoric. The next time somebody cracked the joke about the principal’s office she cracked back, “Oh yes, I’ve heard he has a biiigg paddle for naughty girls.” And she spread her hands wide for emphasis. It got a nervous laugh. They could see she was tipsy. Ward frowned because “the somebody” had been a state senator high up on the budget committee.

“Beverly, cool it,” he whispered. “I need you to make a good impression.”

“Lighten up, Ward. Have fun.” She helped herself to another flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter.

Ward grimaced. It was enough that she was in that too sexy schoolgirl getup, although he had to admit, it was turning him on. But it was also that she was getting loopy and people were noticing. He pulled her aside. “Look, Bev, there are some important people here so please, tone it down a bit.”

But Bev was having too good a time. She flirted with anyone who commented on her outfit. And when she did, she stole glances at Ward to observe his reaction. He was getting steamed. So what? She thought. He could be stuffy if he wanted, but part of her knew she was poking a hornet’s nest -- and didn’t care. What would he do?

It was an offhand comment that finally did it. She was flirting with a couple of men while Ward was talking to another small group, when one of the men called over to Ward, “Hey Ward, I think little miss naughty here needs to see the principal. Don’t you keep a paddle around for this sort of thing?”

As Ward turned to look, Beverly stuck her tongue out and stepped on the guy’s foot---accidentally on purpose-- causing him to spill his drink down the front of his costume.

“Christ! Look what you did!” The guy sputtered. Beverly giggled.

Ward appeared at Beverly’s side and took her arm. “That’s quite enough, Bev. You’ve had too much to drink.”

Beverly stomped her foot. “I have not,” she said, jerking her arm away and in the process stumbling into a waiter holding a tray of canapés. The tray went flying and so did the canapés.

“Ok, that’s it,” said Ward. He grabbed her wrist and hustled her toward the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Bev sputtered as Ward tugged her along. She could imagine what the pair of them looked like. Ward in his black cap and gown pulling Beverly along. In her scandalously short tartan jumper, knee socks and pigtails she was a distraught schoolgirl being taken to task. Ward ignored the comments and chuckles from clusters of partygoers who witnessed the scene.

“Uh, oh, looks like somebody is in trouble,” tittered a slender blonde, eyeing the determined Ward.

“That’s the principal at the high school,” whispered her companion. “What do you think he’s going to do?”

“I think miss naughty schoolgirl is going to make a visit to the principal’s office.”

“I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes,” said her friend.

The blonde turned to her friend and smiled. “Oh, wouldn’t you? I wonder. He looks determined. She’s apparently been… naughty.” She shivered as she said that last word. “I wonder what he’ll do to her.” Her companion stared. Ward had looked around and had spied the staircase. Now he tugged a wobbly Beverly up the stairs, stumbling along behind like a recalcitrant child.

It was a big house. The party was downstairs and two levels up the place was deserted. Perfect. Just what he needed, lots of privacy. He opened several doors before he found what he was looking for -- an empty furnished bedroom. He pulled Beverly inside and shut the door.

“Why are we here?” pouted Beverly. “I was having a good time. I’m going back downstairs.” She turned to leave but Ward blocked her exit.

“You are not going anywhere until you promise to behave.” Ward stood between her and the door, arms folded, a sentry forbidding her to leave.

“Get out of my way, Ward.” She stamped her foot.

“Promise you will behave, or else,” said Ward firmly.

“Or else, what? I get my fourth detention? You didn’t bring your paddle.” She giggled as she said it, but a part of her knew that she was deliberately goading the man. She felt both reckless and excited. It almost seemed like the schoolgirl outfit had given her license to act like one. Her pent up frustration with the slow pace of Ward’s courtship had led her to tease him this way.

Ward smiled casually and it was that smile that finally sent a chill up Beverly’s spine. “Oh, I don’t need any paddle,” he said. He now understood. The outfit, the bratty behavior. It was a deliberate provocation. He took her wrist again and led her over to the bed. “But I think you are right about the detention, and it’s time you paid for your behavior downstairs.”

“What are you…?” But before Beverly could stop him he tipped Beverly across his knees face down.

For a second she was too shocked to react, but then she struggled as she realized what he was about to do.

“Ward, no. Don’t!” She looked anxiously over her shoulder.

But Ward was past the point of polite discussion. He flipped up the little skirt in back to reveal Beverly’s shapely bottom, clad in briefly cut flimsy panties. He sucked his breath in at the lovely vision before him, the full twin rounded cheeks wobbling as she squirmed over his lap.

“You need a good spanking, Beverly, and I’m going to give it to you. Then we’ll see about rejoining the party.”

What? She needed spanking? Before she could process this, she felt the first sharp splat! of Ward’s palm impacting her bottom. The several more smacks stung her behind.

“Ow! Ward, no. Stop.” It stung, really stung.

But Ward was just getting started. He planted a few more exploratory spanks, testing the resilience of her bottom. Then he settled into a tempo that rained brisk spanks on the lovely rounded orbs every half second or so. A steady tattoo of smack! smack! smack! resounded sharply in the small bedroom.

Beverly writhed and tried putting her hand back to protect her stinging bottom. It was really getting hot back there. Ward just grabbed her hand and held it in the small of her back.

“No, no, no, Beverly. This spanking is going to continue. And what’s more, I’m going to make it memorable.” Ward paused. Beverly wondered what he was doing until she felt his fingers in the elastic of her panties.

“Ward, no, don’t take my panties down! No!” She wriggled frantically but Ward was undeterred. He slid the flimsy panties down baring the lovely cheeks which now bore pink handprints. Time to really teach my girlfriend a lesson, thought Ward.

Ward beheld the bottom underneath his palm. It quivered lasciviously. He gave her nude cheeks a brisk smack! The flesh rippled in response. Then another and another. He increased the tempo. Her bottom bounded, the jouncy cheeks wobbled, absorbing the crisp smacks and changing color to a brighter red.

Yow! This really stings. Her quivering bottom continued to absorb sharp smacks from Ward’s capable palm. But a part of her welcomed the humiliating chastisement. She was becoming aroused by the heat in her bottom which spread to her pelvic region. Ward’s utter mastery of her was contributing too. Had she deliberately acted the bratty schoolgirl to provoke Ward? But the blazing fire in her behind was overwhelming her ability to reflect on her real motives.

The scene must have looked like a bizarre Benny Hill skit -- Ward, clad in his headmaster’s gown, holding the lush Beverly across his knee, her abbreviated schoolgirl skirt flipped up and her panties pulled down to her knees, her cheeky bare bottom on full display absorbing smack after smack from Ward’s punishing palm. Beverly wriggled and kicked, desperately seeking relief from the relentless smacking.

Beverly’s bottom cheeks were really glowing now and Ward decided that she was probably reaching the limit of her ability to deal with the stinging before she broke down. He didn’t want that. He just wanted to teach her a sharp lesson. But as he eased off he noticed moisture between the lips of her vagina, which had been impossible to ignore with her humping up and down. In fact the humping looked a lot like arousal. With a few more well placed splats he stopped.

“Can you behave now?” he asked resting his hand on her bottom.

“Arghh…ah,” she gurgled, subdued now. “Y-yes, Ward. I’m sorry.” If nothing else, the spanking had sobered her up. He stood her on her feet. Her hands rushed to her inflamed bottom. She rubbed vigorously and shifted from foot to foot, a naughty schoolgirl, duly punished.

“Ow, my gosh! Y-you spanked me! For real!!” She regarded Ward with something like awe.

“Yes, I did,” he said patiently. “You deserved it.”

“Ohhh…” she moaned and continued to rub. At the same time she felt really turned on. What to do now?

Beverly put herself back together. Ward took her by the arm and they returned to the party. As they descended the stairs, the same slender blonde and her friend observed the couple. Beverly’s eyes were red and she walked rather gingerly.

“Hmm… I’d say our little schoolgirl has been to the principal’s office,’ she remarked.

“More like the woodshed, I’d say,” said her friend. “I’d have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that.” As they walked past the friend caught Beverly absently rubbing her behind. “Yep, definitely the woodshed.”

They didn’t stay long after that. Ward made a final circuit of the room, shaking hands, saying good byes. Beverly accompanied him smiling politely. She was completely sober now as a result of the sharp spanking. Her bottom felt toasty warm and the heat was beginning to affect her in another way too. She was fully lubricated and turned on sexually. Her nipples felt hard and she was flushed.

When they were about to leave Ward turned to her with a look of concern. He’d been very nice to her after he’d spanked her, but still very much in control. “Look I was angry. How do you feel?”

Beverly clutched his arm and whispered. “My fanny is burning; but, I admit, I was out of line. But Ward, I don’t want to go home.”

Ward’s eyebrows raised. “No? Where do you want to go?”

“Your place. Now.”

As soon as they were inside Ward’s condo apartment, Beverly flew into his arms and they kissed passionately. Items of clothing dropped all the way to the bedroom, and by the time Beverly was supine on Ward’s bed she was naked. Ward wasn’t far behind. All of Beverly’s pent up sexual frustration was unleashed upon Ward, to his delight. Their coupling was at first fast and furious, then slow and sensuous. Ward knew how to slow down and build sensation on top of sensation until Beverly was practically screaming with pleasure. Especially intense for Beverly was when Ward placed her on all fours and entered her from behind, kneading and patting her still-red buttocks as he thrust himself against the resilient globes until both came again in a shattering climax.

When they finally rested, Ward propped his head up with his hand and said, “I don’t know what came over you tonight.”

Beverly giggled. “I don’t either, but I liked the outcome---even though I did get my hiney spanked hard, you awful man.”

“Listen, you deserved it. That schoolgirl act. What was I supposed to do with you?” Ward grinned, but he was still perplexed.

“Oh, Ward, I wanted you weeks ago, but you were so old fashioned. I just decided to hurry things along,” she said with an exasperated sigh. Men. They could be so dense.

Now Ward frowned. “You mean all that acting out at the party was deliberate so I would be forced to whisk you off somewhere to make you behave?”

“Well, I didn’t know that you would actually spank me.” Beverly pouted and tossed her head. “I thought I’d get you alone and then….you know,” she added coquettishly.

Ward sat upright now, giving this his full attention. “I ought to spank you again for pulling that stunt just to tease me. People are going to be talking for weeks now.”

“Oh, now wait a minute, Ward.” Beverly shrank back. “I’m already pretty sore from tonight.” Wow, he looked serious.

Ward studied her. “Alright,” he said shaking a finger at her, “For now, that is. But you have an upcoming appointment with me in the principal’s office.”

Beverly shivered with both trepidation and excitement.

That appointment is scheduled for the end of the week. Don't miss it!

From the Top Shelf - Beverly and the Principal, part 3

We continue with Rollin Hand's Beverly and the Principal. Beverly has learned what a paddling from the principal feels like, and now it's her rebellious daughter's turn. (Reread parts 1 and 2 here and here.)

Friday afternoon came too soon for Haley. She was seated in the office at 3:30 waiting for her mother and looking very apprehensive. Beverly eventually arrived and the school secretary ushered them into the principal’s office. She smiled at Ward McCollum to let him know there were no hard feelings from the previous day. Just checking, she glanced at his left hand. There was no ring. She looked at his desk and credenza, but there were no pictures of a wife or children. Ward McCollum was indeed a bachelor.

“Haley, Mrs. Clawson, please sit.” Ward gestured, then picked up a file. As he leafed through it he frowned. “Haley, this indicates a fourth detention in only three months. We have a serious issue here. Do you have any explanation for your behavior?”

Haley’s response was typical teenager---a shrug, a lame excuse or two and a denial of responsibility.

McCollum sighed. “Haley, please wait outside while I speak with your mother.” When she had shut the door behind her, McCollum began. “I know we talked a little yesterday but can you tell me what is going on with her? I notice from her record at her previous school she was an A student with no adverse behavior record. I checked.”

Beverly told him more about Haley’s problems with the divorce and the move. McCollum listened patiently, asking a question or two, but mostly letting her get it all out. Beverly found that she liked talking to this man. He really was kind and sympathetic. McCollum nodded. “I do understand how you feel, Beverly, but if I may say so, Haley has to stop feeling sorry for herself and move on.” Beverly nodded. He was right.

“What I’m going to say now is going to be hard for you to hear, but I think the situation calls for it. Haley has been treated with kid gloves for too long. It’s time the gloves came off and she resumes growing up. That means accepting consequences. Beverly, I’m going to recommend that you sign that corporal punishment form. Since you, ah, know what it’s like, you can make an informed decision now, but my advice is to sign it.”

Beverly’s head snapped up. Oh yeah, she knew now. It had hurt like blazes, but once the initial shock had worn off, it hadn’t been so bad. And for her at least there was something else. The glow in her nether regions had transformed into something sexual. She’d wandered around in an aroused state replaying the incident over and over in her head. While she was woolgathering, Ward had continued.

“I think Haley should be paddled. I really do. It is what happens here when we see this pattern of offenses, and it is the normal consequence. If you don’t, I’ll have to suspend her and that will impact her grades. Because of…yesterday, you, ahem, know what’s involved, so you can assess whether she can take it.”

Of course she could take it. A sharp sting, that’s all it was, and it would put Haley back on the right path. “I think she can,” said Beverly. “If I can take it, so can she. I don’t want her suspended and just left home alone. But Haley has never been spanked or anything. She’s always been a good girl.”

McCollum smiled sympathetically. “And she will be again, but all youngsters have to learn that flouting rules brings penalties and she doesn’t get a pass just because life has been tough lately.”

Beverly had to agree. She signed the form. They called Haley back in. “Haley, your mother and I have decided. You will not be suspended from school. Instead you are going to receive the paddle---six swats. Right here. Right now.”

Haley’s head swung around to look at her mother incredulously. “Mother, you didn’t! How could you?” The color drained out of her face. Principal McCollum sat there impassively.

“I’m sorry, Haley, but you brought this on yourself. A suspension is not possible. I can’t come home to supervise you during the day.” She looked at her daughter earnestly and took her hand, holding it with both of hers. “I’m sorry Haley, but you will just have to take your licks.”

Haley was shocked that it had come to this. She sat there barely breathing as McCollum buzzed his secretary. “Mrs. Frankel, can you come in? We need a witness. Oh, and bring the book.” McCollum stood and rolled up his right sleeve. Mrs. Frankel entered.

“All right Haley, stand up.” Haley stood as if in a daze. “Lean on the desk, on your elbows, palms flat. Look at that circle on the wall.” Indeed Beverly saw there was a piece of paper stuck to the wall with a circle inscribed on it. Haley assumed the position. She was wearing tight jeans and the bent posture thrust her buttocks out, the jeans clearly delineating the rounded globes of her youthful bottom.

The wooden paddle was hanging on the wall, right where it had been the day before. McCollum unhooked it and moved to Haley’s rear.

“Haley, it will be six swats. Do not move out of position. If you do we may have to do that one over. Keep perfectly still. Feet a little more apart.” Haley shuffled her feet. “That’s right.” The principal measured the distance, patting Haley’s behind gently with the paddle. He drew back and brought his arm forward in a smooth motion, like he’d done this before.

Crack! the paddle smacked the seat of Haley’s jeans.

“Ow!” Haley’s yelp confirmed how that paddle could burn.

“That’s one,” said McCollum. He drew back again.

Crack! Another swat struck Haley’s bottom.

“Yeow…oh!” Haley shifted her weight from one foot to the other. McCollum waited a minute then drew back again.

Crack! Haley stood on tiptoe and wailed, “ahhh….ow!..nng!”

To Beverly it was an intense eye-opening scene. On the one hand she felt for her poor daughter. From the sound of it, it must sting atrociously. Hell, she knew it did. But it didn’t look like he was hitting that hard. He had this medium-slow smooth delivery with a little wrist flick at the end. Then she understood. He didn’t hit hard on purpose. It was just enough to generate a sharp sting, just enough pain so the student would know that there are consequences. From the other side of the desk, Beverly heard sobs. She knew what it felt like. Her own bottom tingled in silent sympathy.

“Three more, Haley.” The principal hefted the paddle, swung his arm in a sideways arc. Crack! It was sharp like a gunshot.

“Ow…ow….oh…my…” yelped Haley bobbing up and down slightly.

“Steady, now. Only two more, Haley.”

Haley actually said, “Yes, sir,” and bent back down.

Crack! Crack! The last two came rapidly. Haley lifted up on tiptoe and let out a wail.

“All right, you can stand up now.” Beverly breathed again. It was done. Haley stood, vigorously rubbing her bottom. She had tears in her eyes. “Sit down if you want, but you need to sign the book.”

Haley stood. Apparently one had to sign for the swats, like it was a receipt or something. Haley signed and Beverly hugged her daughter. Then she actually shook hands with Mr. McCollum. It was as if something dark had lifted. Not much was said on the way home. Haley went to her room.

Beverly came in later and asked if she could rub cold cream on Haley’s bottom. Haley said that would be nice. Her butt was red but not bruised. Haley said the cold cream helped.

Beverly was left alone with her thoughts. She could not get the scene in the principal’s office out of her mind. As the weekend passed Beverly noted that the paddling seemed to have produced a catharsis in Haley. She was less sullen, more her old self. A short sharp shock. It had apparently worked.

Paddlings have a way of changing attitudes. How will Beverly thank the principal? Stay tuned for more.

From the Top Shelf - Beverly and the Principal, part 2

Beverly wants to find out what a paddling from the principal feels like before she signs the permission to paddle form for her unruly daughter. To refresh your memory, here's part 1. Now let's see how Beverly reacts to school discipline.

What do you wear to a paddling, thought Bev? She was nervous, but determined to go through with it, at least for Haley’s sake. That way she could tell herself that she hadn’t put her daughter through anything that she hadn’t experienced too. And there was the nagging guilt---that it was partly her fault.

She finally decided on workout tights. She’d be coming back from her gym class anyway, so she might as well meet him in her gym tights. No real need to change.

On Thursday after her workout she checked her appearance. She wore her normal workout gear--- black knee length stretch tights and a top. They fitted her hourglass figure like a glove, she decided, looking back over her shoulder into the mirror. The rounded twin globes of her bottom were clearly defined and separated by the tight synthetic fabric. For a top she wore a halter. Well, I guess that will give him a good target, she sighed. Time to go.

The school parking lot was empty when she got there. It was nearly seven o’clock. Only one other car---his. Nervously, she walked in. She could see a light on in the office. She knocked.

“Is that you, Mrs. Clawson, er, Beverly?” asked a voice from within.

“Um, y-yes, it’s me.” Cripes! This was crazy, she was now thinking.

Ward came to the door and motioned her to come in. “Please, come on in. Let’s talk.” Beverly entered and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. It seemed intimidating. She now had a feeling of what a student might feel like called in to account for some bit of bad behavior.

“Well, I see you actually came. I have to ask, are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Beverly shook her head, yes. “I feel as though I must—for two reasons, really. First, I want to know what this will be like for Haley, this paddling. And second, despite what you may think, Haley’s acting out is my fault in a big way. So, yes, let’s get on with it.”

Ward studied her for a moment. “Well, I’m done trying to talk you out of it, and I do understand, and if this is what it takes, then, well---ah, stand up and slip your jacket off.” Ward stood. Sexy and authoritative men made her all fluttery, and Ward was no exception. Beverly rose and took her warm up jacket off, revealing her curvy body clad now in tights and a halter top. Ward did a double take.

The lady had curves in all the right places. He turned and moved toward the wall. Beverly hadn’t noticed, but now she did. There was a paddle hanging on the wall by a leather loop. Ward retrieved it.

“Standard two foot maple paddle. Four inches wide, three quarters of an inch thick.” He showed it to her. Beverly gulped. It looked serious. This was going to hurt. She took it in her hands. It felt heavy.

She handed it back. Ward took it.

“OK, Beverly, what I want you to do is bend forward over the desk right here, supported on your elbows, palms down flat. Feet about a foot apart.” He watched as she bent forward. The posture thrust her shapely posterior outward in an almost indecent pose. Wow, did this lady have a figure or what? Her heart shaped bottom was clearly defined in the tight stretch pants. He took the paddle and moved to her left, took up a stance and pressed the wood against the jutting rump. She flinched, then settled back down as he gently tapped her bottom with the paddle.

“Now, please stay still, Beverly. Best to look straight ahead.” He rubbed the paddle on her bottom in circles, measuring.

Beverly tried to calm herself. This was it. “I’m ready,” she said.

Ward drew back and brought the paddle forward in a smooth arc. Whack! It landed square across the center of Beverly’s bottom.

“Ah…ohhhh….my God!” It had stung like fire. A hot brand right across her seat. She’d had no idea!

Whack! The second swat fell. She flinched, partially raising up.

“Ohhh…..whew! That stings.” The burning was quite intense.

“I know it does, Beverly. This is what it’s like. Stay still now, here’s number three.” Ward drew back his arm again and pivoted forward, the blade whooshing through the still air of the office. Splat! The paddle impacted the shapely rump again making her wriggle involuntarily.

“Yeow!” She had to let out a wail, it stung so bad. Her eyes were tearing up.

Ward noticed how her ass cheeks quivered when the paddle hit. The tights looked painted on, and the twin globes of her luscious bottom were clearly outlined. To steady her Ward put his hand in the small of her back. Then he delivered the fourth smack to her burning bottom. She cried out again and stamped her feet as if that could somehow relieve the awful burning.

“Only two more,” said Ward. “Are you ready? Can you take this?”

Beverly composed herself as best she could. “Yes, I can take it,” she gasped. Her bottom was burning hot, but she felt somewhat at peace, being rightfully punished for her inattention to her daughter’s needs.

Whap! The fifth swat was the most painful yet and Beverly let out a wail and wagged her behind shamelessly. The sight of the paddle bouncing off of the bottom of this mature well formed woman in tights was causing Ward to be seriously aroused. Better finish this, he thought.

Smack! The last swat echoed off the walls.

“Owww!....ohhh, my God!” Beverly raised up on tiptoe. Her behind was blazing like it been branded.

“Ok,” said Ward. “It’s over. You can get up. Please let me help you.”

Bev rose on unsteady legs. Her behind was on fire, her eyes filled with tears. She rubbed her bottom.

“Ah…ah…ah…” she gulped.

“Beverly, would you like a tissue?” Ward was now very solicitous.

“Yes, yes.” She took the tissue and wiped her eyes.

“The rest room is just down the hall if you want,” offered Ward.

“I’m ok,” she fluttered. “Just give me a minute.” Her seat was blazing hot and felt swollen. She decided to stop rubbing and even tried to sit down, but thought better of it.

Ward put the paddle back on the hook. “That is the standard school paddling, Beverly. Just like a student would get. Although in your case I think you had less protection. Most kids wear jeans over underwear.” It hadn’t escaped his notice that under the thin spandex there had been no panty line. She’d probably worn a thong.

Beverly blushed at the implication. She found her voice. “I’m ok, and although it hurt a great deal, I’m ok. I don’t regret doing it.”

“Well, I’m glad of that,” said Ward.

Later she felt as if the pain had cleansed her in some way. It faded to a warm glow, but she was sore for a while. Soon other thoughts intruded into her consciousness, sexy thoughts involving a certain handsome principal.

Aha! I thought she might have enjoyed that.

From the Top Shelf - Beverly and the Principal, part 1

After a much too long hiatus while I dusted and sorted the naughty books on my top shelf, I'm happy to say I have a lovely story to start for you today. It's from the late Rollin Hand's The Romance of Spanking Vol. 2, and long ago he gave me permission to post his stories here. "Beverly and the Principal" is a schoolgirl spanking story but, as with all Rollin's stories, there's a twist, as you will guess from the opening paragraph. It's a rather long story so I have broken it up into five parts. Without further ado, I give you part 1.

BEVERLY AND THE PRINCIPAL

The “schoolgirl” stood nervously in front of the desk as the Principal lectured her about her behavior. She wore an abbreviated plaid skirt that ended several inches above the knee, displaying the taut lines of her shapely legs. Her breasts pushed against the tight white blouse in front and her pert bottom jutted out in back. Her hands were behind her back and she shuffled nervously from foot to foot. The principal finished the scolding and slid open a drawer. Inside was a short wooden paddle. It had a legend on it that said “Heat for the Seat”. He pointed to the desk.

The schoolgirl reluctantly leaned over, placing her elbows on the desk. The Principal moved to her rear, gripping the little paddle. Placing it under his arm, he used both hands to raise the schoolgirl’s skirt in back. He paused a moment to admire the plump and shapely bottom clad in brief white panties. Tucking the paddle under his arm to free his hands, The Principal placed his thumbs in the elastic of the panties and, ignoring the protests from the “schoolgirl”, drew them down to her knees. The unveiling revealed the lush rounded globes of a most shapely posterior. He patted the lush cheeks then stood to her side and tapped her with the paddle. Then he drew back his arm.

Three months earlier…..

The envelope from the school was thick—too thick to be good news. Beverly decided to go inside and make a cup of coffee before she even dared open it. Now sitting in her breakfast nook she sighed and slit the bulky package. “Damn!” she muttered. Another referral notice telling her that Haley, her sixteen year old daughter was in trouble yet again. This was the fourth one in as many months. This time it was another tardy. She hadn’t bothered to go to her 6th period history class after gym, so she’d been awarded another detention. But there was more. As she sifted through the papers she reflected on the whys of Hailey’s conduct this year.

The divorce had been hard on them all. After years of constant bickering over every little thing she and Rick had called it quits. They were too different---irreconcilable differences. It was a no go. Beverly moved from the sophistication of Dallas to the smaller town of Hot Springs, Arkansas that had job opportunities in her field, which was hospitality. Haley had hated the move. She lost all of her friends, and now had to start all over in a culture very different from the city. And it had led to acting out. Around the house Haley sulked. She either talked back or was sullen and moody.

It had been a shock to Beverly. Haley had been a straight A student, never a sign of trouble, no boys issues, drugs, or even profanity. She had been a quiet good girl, serious about her studies. And that was in spite of the fact that she was cute as a button and attracted considerable male attention. Now Haley seemed adrift. There was no major trouble yet, but if this reckless behavior of hers wasn’t stopped, there would be. Beverly was no disciplinarian, she’d never had to be. From the looks of things in this packet though, the school was stepping in.

The fact was, Beverly had to admit to herself, she been inadequate to control Haley’s behavior because she was having trouble controlling her own. Chores went undone. The house was a mess. She worked all day, went to her gym, came home and collapsed. Bills were paid late if at all. She realized she’d been hitting the wine bottle heavier and heavier lately. Trying to numb out? She pulled a sheaf of papers from the envelope. There was a notice calling for a parent conference with Ward McCollum, the principal. That sounded serious. It would be Friday afternoon. Damn, she’d have to take off from work.

There was another form, a different color. It was a permission form. It said “Corporal Punishment Consent Form”. Stapled to it was a one page sheet that said “Corporal Punishment Policies and Procedures.” My word, thought Beverly—what was this? As she read further, the meaning became apparent. Having been given three detentions now for various infractions, Haley was now subject to corporal punishment should a fourth appear. She read the letter from the school signed by Principal McCollum. It said that Haley could be suspended for this last infraction. In lieu of suspension she could submit to corporal punishment. This was to be one of the subjects to be taken up at the conference. Hence, the permission form and the guidelines.

Her mouth agape, Bev read on. Punishment was meted out with a paddle. The normal penalty, six swats. The student was to wear slacks or jeans as normal, no extra padding. A witness from the school staff would be present and parents could be present, and in fact were encouraged to be there. Good grief, it had all the grim formality of a hanging.

Bev put the letter down. What should she do? It was her decision as parent. Haley probably wouldn’t mind about the suspension. Maybe she wouldn’t even care. They had never raised a hand to Haley---it hadn’t been necessary. But as things had turned out she was now falling. Where would it end? Bev set her jaw. Maybe a short sharp shock right now would turn things around.

She would think about it. She hadn’t been able to parent very effectively, lost as she was in her own problems and self pity. It was really her fault that it gotten to this point with Haley. Her thoughts were interrupted by the clunk of the door opening and footsteps. It was Haley.

“Do you know what this is?” asked Beverly, thrusting the packet toward her. Haley’s face changed abruptly from bright teenager to chagrinned teenager. She had known intuitively what the packet was-- -a notice from the school. “We have to meet with Principal McCollum on Friday afternoon. And I’m afraid there is worse news, Haley.”

Haley squirmed, her expression both guilty and apprehensive. “Under the school rules you can bepaddled for this.” That got Haley’s attention.

“What? Paddled? You can’t be serious!” Haley was incredulous. She had heard stories here and there, but it was always about someone else.

“I’m afraid so, Haley. It’s a fourth detention. Skipping class. Where were you? You weren’t off school grounds were you?”

Haley’s guilty look told Beverly she’d hit the nail on the head. “You left the school in the middle of the day? To go where?” Bev was angry now.

“It was nothing, mother. Just to the drive in, then right back.” Haley was wheedling now, wringing her hands, which she realized had been caught in the proverbial cookie jar.

“I’m of half a mind to sign this ‘permission to paddle’ form right now, Haley Elizabeth.”

Haley’s expression changed from concern to horror. “Oh, mother, no please don’t. I’d just die.” She put her hands up as if warding off an evil spell.

Bev pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m going to think about this, Haley, and I’ll decide when we meet with principal McCollum.”

What Beverly was really thinking about was her own culpability. A paddling. What would that feel like? If Haley were to be paddled, I should be paddled too, she mused grimly. It’s almost as much my fault as hers. If I’d been a better wife, and a better mother, maybe this would not have turned out this way. The very idea was oddly intriguing, but she didn’t understand why. Beverly’s experience with any type of physical punishment was limited to a few swats on the backside from an irate mother. In her family scolding and being sent to her room had been the means of discipline.

The principal, one Ward McCollum, was, in Beverly’s opinion, a pretty good looking male. Beverly had met him at a parent-teacher conference. They had talked for a time and she had been impressed.

She had also heard that he was a bachelor. And he seemed very nice. It was hard to envision him as a stern disciplinarian wielding a wooden paddle. Still, she had this thought and she could not let it go.

The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that maybe she needed something like this to get her to wake up. She made up her mind. She would talk to the principal before the meeting.

As things are wont to do, serendipity intervened. In this case at the local food mart. Several days later she was shopping for groceries. There in the checkout line was Ward McCollum. He saw her and smiled. “Mrs. Clawson, how are you?” She felt slightly flustered. He was definitely an attractive man.

Beverly nervously brushed her hair back. Did she look ok? Bev knew she was a good looking woman. At 5’6”, she had auburn hair that fell below her shoulders and a 35-23-36 figure that she kept in good shape at a local gym.

“Oh, Mr. McCollum. I didn’t see you,” she lied. “I’m uh, fine.”

He came forward. “Please, it’s Ward. We’re too small a community here to be formal.”

“Yes, of course, ah, Ward. Please call me Bev.” Good grief, she was fluttering like one of his schoolgirls.

“Let’s see, your daughter is Haley, right? Say would you join me for a cup of coffee? I know you got that letter, and well, I’d like to talk to you about it, informally, if it’s ok.”

Bev thought this was a chance to raise something she’d been mulling over. “Sure. I’ll just check out.”

“There’s a shop on the next corner. I’ll meet you there.”

They got a table in the coffee shop and exchanged pleasantries for a few moments. Then Ward said, “I know what’s on your mind. It’s the letter and our upcoming conference, isn’t it?”

Bev had been mulling the matter over ever since the letter had arrived, and now she had to ask. “About my daughter Haley, yes. In your letter you said that normally a student would get a paddling for the fourth offense, is that right?”

McCollum sighed and nodded. “Yes. It’s not something we like to do, but sometimes we run out of options and a short, sharp shock is what is called for. Haley, unfortunately, has reached that threshold.

I don’t like to recommend corporal punishment, but we do have standards. It’s got to be that or a suspension.”

Beverly shook her head. “I just can’t deal with a suspension, and it would set Haley back too much. So, this paddling, just how many paddle swats is it and what is it like?”

“For this, six. The student bends across the desk. I apply the swats right on the round part of the sit spot. I will tell you it hurts, but they get over it in a day or two.”

Beverly sat there, thinking. “It’s my fault she got in this trouble. I’ve been preoccupied with myself. I’ve let things go with Haley.”

“Look, Mrs….”

“Please, Mr. McCollum, Ward… it’s Beverly. We never laid a hand on Haley. She’s never even had a spanking. She’s always been very well behaved.”

McCollum said earnestly, “Ok, Beverly, but, look, you can’t beat yourself up. Sometimes kids do things. It’s up to us adults to put them back on the right path…even if it’s sometimes painful, both for us and for them.”

Beverly had told herself she was going to propose this crazy idea. Well, here he was, and here she was. She said, “Yes, yes, I know but….look, if I ask you something, will you promise not to think I’m a complete kook?”

“Sure. Ask away.”

Bev took a deep breath. “Before I consign Haley to this, ah, punishment, I need to know…”

“You need to know what Beverly?” Ward was perplexed. Where was this headed? She seemed flustered.

Bev looked at him shyly and said, “I need to know what I’d be getting her into. Whether she could handle it, both emotionally and physically. You see, I’m as much to blame and I couldn’t approve this punishment unless I….”

Ward looked at her with arched eyebrows.

“…unless I experienced it first.” There. She got it out on the table.

Ward sat back. Ran his hand through his hair. “Well, Bev, that is certainly one unusual request.” He was silent for a minute, thinking.

Bev jumped in. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. It’s something I need to do.”

Ward cleared his throat. “It’s six licks with a wooden paddle firmly applied to the seat. Uh, do you maybe have a friend who could…?”

“No,” said Bev, calmly. “I’ve thought about it, and I want you to do it.” She had already decided this. If it was to be real, she wanted the authority figure who would paddle her daughter to paddle her as well.

Ward absorbed this little declaration with a bit of a shock. “I, uh, really Bev, this is, well, highly unusual, wouldn’t you say?”

But Bev was all business now. “I know it is, but I insist. It’s necessary.”

Ward pursed his lips. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Beverly was very attractive and the idea of such a scene with an adult woman, well…

“I’ll tell you what. I hate to go all legal and everything but if you sign…”

She interrupted. “I’ll sign anything you want. I need you to do this so I can decide about Haley. Please.”

Ward finally agreed. It would be a standard school paddling. They would do it after hours on Thursday, then Bev would decide on the permission slip, suspension or paddling, by their meeting the following day.

I can hardly wait for Thursday!