The Female Manifesto

Chapter One

Sarah’s bus pulled up at the curb next to her school. It certainly didn’t look any different, she thought, but then, she had no idea if it was supposed to. They had told her nothing at the group home about the changes that were taking place, only that her stay was temporary, that she would eventually be sent back to school, and then on to a new home. Last night, the House Father had told her, and all the other girls, to pack their things. Today was to be the first day of the rest of their lives.

“Alright girls,” said the bus driver, “end of the line.”

Sarah jumped at the sound, she hadn’t really been paying attention, but quickly realised that everyone around her was moving to get off the bus. Sarah joined them, as she too struggled to get her bulging suitcase down from the rack above her head. It was full to the brim, but so were all the other girls’. They contained everything they owned, after all.

Sarah manoeuvred her way down the aisle and stepped off the bus into the sunshine. It was early, at least an hour and a half before she used to get to school, but it was already a beautiful day. She looked up and down the street to see that many other buses were also pulling up and that girls of all ages were pouring out of them.

A few feet away from Sarah, a stern looking man with a clipboard began snapping his fingers to get her attention.

“Me?” she asked, pointing a finger at herself.

“Me, Sir,” he corrected her. “Once you’re collared, you’ll be punished for forgetting proper forms of address.”

“Oh, sorry, Sir,” said Sarah.

“A female can’t be sorry, she can only be corrected,” he said flatly. “But we’ll let it go for now. That’s why you’re at school, after all, to learn these things. Now, is this the bus of girls previously scheduled to start sixth form?”

Sarah winced at his use of the word ‘previously’, but replied, “Yes, Sir,” anyway.

“Good,” he said, switching his attention to the rest of the group that had overheard and begun to mill around him. “Okay girls, listen up. You’ve all been allocated to Form 6A. That’s in room 25 of the Senior Building. I want you all to hurry up and get there as quickly as possible, the buses are late and you all have to be processed and prepared in time for the real students’ arrival. Is that understood?”

A few girls, along with Sarah, managed to speak the required ‘Yes, Sir’, but most merely nodded their heads, not really understanding, and began to move off towards the Senior Building. Sarah saw the man’s face darken and was sure he was about to scream at them, but then seemed to think better of it.

“You’ll all learn soon enough,” she heard him say under his breath.

Sarah picked up her case and began the short walk over to the Senior Building. She fell in step alongside Mandy Caufield, easily her best friend among the girls her age, and her roommate for the last few months over at the group home.

“What do you think that’s all about?” asked Mandy. “I thought things were supposed to be different, but we’re still being put in sixth form. You think they’ve changed their minds?”

Sarah thought about the naked jogging woman and seriously doubted it.

“I don’t think so, Mandy,” she said. “There was all that stuff about ‘preparing’ and ‘processing’ us. And when I got off the bus, he said we’re going to be collared. I don’t think we really count here anymore.”

“Oh,” said Mandy. “I forgot about that. I guess I was just hoping, you know? You’re thinking worst case scenario, then?”

“Yeah,” said Sarah, “at least. I don’t think they had us on diets and exercise regimes at the home for our health. Things are going to get bad, Mandy, real bad.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it,” said Mandy, smiling and putting her arm around her friend. “There’s nothing that we can’t handle, right?”

Sarah didn’t answer and Mandy pretended not to notice. The two of them continued the walk to class in silence.

The Senior Building of ‘The New Haven School’ was the largest building on campus and was where all the sixth form classes were held. It also housed school administration and the Principal’s office. Room 25 was on the second floor, so Mandy, Sarah and all the other sixth form girls were headed for the main entrance that lead to the central stairway. A sign at the door stopped them, however. It read, ‘Main Entrance for Students Only. Females MUST Use Back Entrance and Side Stairwells. Thank you, Administration’.

“Well,” said Mandy, putting her hands on her hips. “It looks like we’re taking the long way ‘round, ladies. It is a nice day, after all, and I could use the walk.”

Sarah smiled at her friend’s bravado, but suspected that this was just the beginning, and not everything they were going to have to deal with would be able to be laughed off so easily.

The side stairwells were solid concrete tubes located at either end of the Senior Building and used to be for emergencies only. They were dark, dirty, and always damp, and, as Mandy pulled open the door, Sarah could see that nothing had changed. Sarah held the door as Mandy walked inside to try and find the light switch and swore when she flicked it back and forwards and nothing happened.

“They could have at least replaced the bulbs. We’re liable to break our necks walking up these stairs in the dark, especially dragging our suitcases,” she said.

“Like I said before,” said Sarah, “I don’t think we count here anymore.”

“Well, we’ll make do,” said Mandy, as she walked back out and grabbed a large stone from nearby and used it to prop the heavy door open. “There, that should let in enough light. Let’s go.”

  None of the other girls said anything, but nodded and followed Mandy and Sarah up the broad concrete steps. Water dripped constantly from the roof and it had made the floor very slick, but it was only one flight up, and they all made it without incident.

Mandy pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and held it open as Sarah and the rest of the girls filed past her out into the corridor. This, at least, was more familiar territory. The hallway was bright and warm and had potted green plants every few metres along. This was the school that all of them remembered, and their sense of relief at seeing it was palpable.

“Room 25 is the fifth door on the left,” said Mandy, pointing just along from where they were standing. “We had Chem. in there last year when the science lab was getting renovated, remember?”

“Yeah,” answered Debbie, another ex-sixth former. “It’s the nice room with all the padded chairs.”

“The big one,” said Melissa, chiming in.

The little group started to inch their way down the hallway with Sarah now in the lead. Apart from them, the whole floor seemed deserted, but that was hardly surprising since all of the younger girls were in other parts of the school and the boys had not yet arrived.

“This is eerie,’ said Sandra.

“Yeah,” said Mandy from the rear, “but it won’t do us any good to be late. Just keep going.”

It took only a few seconds to cross the short distance to door of Room 25, but to Sarah, it seemed like hours.

“I suppose we’d better knock,” she said as she reached it, but she made no move to do so.

‘Just do it,” said Mandy. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Sarah summoned every ounce of her courage, raised her hand, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” said a decidedly normal-sounding voice from the other side.

Sarah opened the door and walked tentatively into the room. She half expected it to have been painted black with manacles and chains now bolted into the walls, but, to her relief, very little had changed. The room was still its nice shade of pale yellow, the windows at the back still looked out across the school’s front lawn, and the air still smelled of whatever pine stuff they used to clean the hardwood floors at night. The only difference seemed to be that there were far fewer desks in the room and that they were now spaced further apart.

       A man in a dark suit had risen from behind the teacher’s desk at the front of the room and was walking over to the door to help usher the girls inside. He was tall, youngish for a teacher, probably about thirty, and had short, blonde hair. He took the door handle and held it open as he gestured inside.

       “That’s right,” he said. “Come in, come in.”

The rest of Sarah’s classmates managed to overcome their own trepidation and proceeded quickly past him into the room. Most of the girls seemed unsure of what to do next, and looked back over their shoulders at the man questioningly.

“Just stack your suitcases up against the far wall.” he said, pointing to the right side of the room. “Then line up in front of the first row of desks.”

Mutely, Sarah and her friends did as they were told. The man did not seem overly threatening, but there was an edge to his voice that said he expected to be obeyed. It took a few minutes for the girls to organise all their things and the man simply leaned casually against his desk as they did so, his arms folded across his chest, watching them. Sarah studied him carefully, but found it impossible to read his expression. Eventually, the girls finished heaping their cases on top of one another and had taken their designated positions facing their teacher. Sarah found herself second in line, standing next to Mandy who was on the man’s extreme left.

“Alright girls,” he said, “allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr Virgil. I know you don’t know me but, rest assured, I know all of you very well. I’ve been studying your files for the last several weeks and it’s my job to take you through the changes that have taken place in your absence from school and prepare you, to some extent, for the new lives you’re all about to embark upon. But, and let me be clear about this, this is not a discussion or a debate, only an explanation of your new realities. I’ll expect you all to obey my instructions, promptly and to the letter, and to address me in an appropriate manner. Does everybody understand that?”

Sarah was worried that her friends’ might not answer correctly, but Mr Virgil seemed to command much more respect than the man outside the bus, and all of the girls managed to at least spout a mumbled, ‘Yes, Sir’.

It was clear, though, that Mr Virgil was less than impressed with this effort as his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed tightly together. He got up from his desk and walked directly toward Susan Haywood, the shyest girl in the class who rarely spoke above a whisper anyway, and slapped her hard across the face. Several girls screamed and instinctively moved away from Mr Virgil. Sarah’s own hand rushed to cover her mouth as she saw Susan’s entire body crumble at the force of the blow and her legs completely collapse from underneath her. Tears sprang immediately to Susan’s eyes as she raised her hands to fend off another assault, but Mr Virgil had already moved on to Sandra, who had reflexively bent to help Susan.

“Don’t you dare help her,” he yelled at Sandra, his finger in her face. “When a man punishes a female, she’s to take it all, you understand? It’s his decision, not hers. Understood?”

“Y-y-yes, Sir,” stammered Sandra, backing away, too shocked to do anything else.

“Good,” said Mr Virgil, immediately recovering his composure and giving her a vicious little smile. “Now get back in line girls, and let that be a lesson to all of you as we try this again. Do you all now understand what addressing a man in the appropriate manner means?”

This time, even Susan, who was climbing back to her feet, replied with a much more enthusiastic, ‘Yes, Sir!’

       “Good, good,” said Mr Virgil, backing away a few feet so he could address them all again. “I think you’ll all get the hang of this in no time. It’s instinctive in the female to try and please the male, after all. I think a few more lessons in correction might be productive, but at the moment we’re too pushed for time. I trust you’ll all just remember what happens if I’m not satisfied?”

       “Yes, Sir,” they all sang in unison.

       “Excellent,” said Mr Virgil. “Now then, let’s get to work. The first thing on our agenda is a brief overview of how things have changed in your absence. Most of you are familiar with the political changes that have taken place in New Haven, but are probably unfamiliar with how these will affect you. Simply put, girls, all of you are now property. The only question now, is to decide who you belong to.”

       He paused to see if this had any effect, but none of the girls reacted in any way. If they were anything like Sarah, though, their minds were screaming, ‘Oh, God! It’s really happening!’

       “This should really come as no surprise,” he continued, “as all of you are no doubt aware of the recent distribution of all mature-age females to the male citizens of New Haven. The delay in allotting you younger girls has only been allowed so that certain ethical, moral and legal questions can be resolved. I am now happy to say that they have been, and I will now inform you of them.”

       Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw Mandy raise her hand.

       “Put your hand down, Caufield,” said Mr Virgil. “If you interrupt me again, I’ll take off my belt and beat you black and blue.”

       Mandy’s hand went down like a shot.

       “Now, as I was saying. The legal status of the female, at all ages, has now been quantified and fully enacted into law. A female under the age of thirteen is considered to be the property of her father, or other designated male guardian. Up until this age, she will live at home, attend school, and generally live a life very similar to that which you girls, up until now, have enjoyed. Given the inferior nature of the female mind, there will obviously be some changes to the female curriculum, but she will still receive at least a basic level of education. After the age of thirteen, however, a female’s academic education will cease and her true education will begin. This is the age that a female will be allocated her first master.”

       There, thought Sarah, someone finally said it. I’m going to belong to somebody!

       “A girl’s first master will be a male of thirteen, the age at which a boy first attends this school. Here, along with his regular studies, he will learn to take his rightful place as her superior and she will learn to submit herself to him completely. The pairing of master and slave will continue on through the school system together until the young master graduates and the slave becomes his property entirely. After this time, he may sell or trade her on the open market as he sees fit. Now,” he said, looking pointedly at Mandy, daring her to raise her hand, “are there any questions so far?”

       Sarah glanced sideways at the short line of girls. Nobody seemed to be taking the bait, but Susan wasn’t the only one with a tear running down her face anymore. Sarah wasn’t surprised, she could feel them welling up behind her own eyes. They’d all had an inkling over the last few months at what was coming, that whatever hopes and dreams they had were probably over, but it was still difficult to hear that the only future ahead of you was a life of abject servitude.

       “No?” asked Mr Virgil, his crooked smile returning. “Good. I think the rest is easy enough to guess, even for females like you. You girls, as the oldest females now left in the school system, are being allocated to this year’s senior class. Rejoice girls, in just one short hour, you’ll all meet your future owners!”

       His face was positively beaming. Sarah could tell he was enjoying all this immensely.

       “I know you’re excited, but we have a great deal of work left to do before they arrive. The second thing on our agenda, then, is to get you all properly attired and give you some lessons in basic deportment. Haywood, since you’ve been so helpful this morning already, would you come forward and help me demonstrate.”

       Sarah thought Susan was going to faint. She was so thin and frail that Sarah found it amazing that she stayed upright at the best of times, let alone while she was quaking with fear. Mr Virgil had reached underneath his desk and pulled out a large cardboard box, and was proceeding to open it, when he noticed Susan had not moved.

       “Come quickly, Haywood!” he bellowed. “When a man gives you an order, he expects it to be obeyed immediately! Front and centre, right now, or I’ll make that last slap seem like a pleasant memory!”

       Susan fairly leaped across the room to stand in front of him, shaking like a leaf.

       “Good girl,” he said, turning her to face the class with his hands resting upon her shoulders. “You’re learning, but your responses must become much more instinctual. Just the sound of a masculine voice should be enough to have you instantly ready to obey without any hesitation. Consider my next instruction a little test. Are you ready, Haywood?”

       Susan’s panicked expression showed she was clearly not ready, but she spoke the necessary reply, ‘Yes, Sir’, with as much energy as she could muster.

       “Good girl,” he said again. “Now, Haywood, kindly take off all your clothes.”

       Susan’s head whipped around at his request, her mouth agape and her eyes as big as saucers. She had just enough time to see his powerful hand reach back and slap her straight across the face once more. This time, Susan somehow managed to keep her feet, but the blow was enough to send her reeling back across the room, clutching at her stinging cheek.

       Mr Virgil bent his head low to look her in the eye, slowly stalking the girl back towards the wall. “Are you deaf, Haywood?” he asked. “I said, the test was to obey without hesitation, not to look up at me like some goggle-eyed fish.”

       Susan continued to back away, tears now streaming freely down her face. “I-I’m sorry, Sir, I just, I just…”

       “No, there is no more sorry for you, little girl, no more ‘sorry’ for any of you. You’ll all do exactly as you’re told or you’ll be punished. It’s that simple. Now get back here before I decide to get my cane.”

       Susan’s face went completely white and Sarah could almost see the cogs turning over in her mind. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was go anywhere near the fearsome man again, but the threat of far worse to come if she disobeyed was too horrible a thought to contemplate. She looked desperately to her classmates for support, but nobody made a move to help her. Sarah felt ashamed, but there was no way she could stand up to the force of nature that was Mr Virgil. Susan paid for her hesitation again, though, as the man finally got tired of waiting and shot his hand out to grab her by the hair. Susan screamed, but could not resist the brutal pull as he dragged her back to the centre of the room. When he had her exactly where he wanted her, he yanked her head back violently.

       “Strip, right now, Haywood! You have thirty seconds to get completely naked, or so help me, I’ll beat your cunt as hard as I can for the whole rest of the morning!”

       Susan twisted every which way in his grasp, desperately trying to relieve the pressure on her head. At the same time though, her hands groped frantically for the buttons of her crisp, white shirt. Any pretence of resistance had completely evaporated from her. From now on, Sarah knew, Susan would do exactly as this man told her.

       “That’s it, you like stripping like this, don’t you Haywood? It’s what you were born for, isn’t it?”

       “Yes, Sir!” she screamed. “Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t hit me anymore, please!”

       “Beg me,” he said, mockingly. “Beg me to let you strip like the worthless whore you are.”

       “Please, Sir, let me strip! I want to get naked for you, I’m just a girl, I-I should be naked!”

       “Go on then,” he said. “Do it.”

       Mr Virgil did not let up on Susan for a single second, his hand twisted tightly in her long brown hair, bending her backwards so her pelvis was thrust rudely forward. Susan worked feverishly down the line of shirt buttons under her blazer and cast them both to the ground in one swift movement. Her tartan skirt was next, but that was easy to take off, just one quick movement of the zip at her hip and it fell to pool around her feet. She kicked it away as best she could. Susan now looked ludicrous, clad in only her pale blue bra and panties, but still wearing her big, black school shoes. Held as she was, she could not bend to take them off, so she struggled to kick them off with her feet, but could not get any leverage. Mr Virgil must have realised her predicament, though, because it was then he finally released his grasp.

       “Continue,” he said, matter-of-factly from behind her.

       Susan did not even look back. She bent quickly to her knees, untied her shoes, and wrenched them from her feet, along with her socks. Without rising, she reached behind and undid her bra, accidentally flinging it across the room as she pulled it free. Susan barely noticed, though, she was in so much of a hurry. Only when she stood and pulled her panties straight down did Susan again seem to realise where she was and what she had done. She found herself staring directly into the eyes of her fellow classmates, and her hands crept up to cover herself.

       “No!” boomed Mr Virgil. “A female is not permitted to cover herself in any way. Put your hands behind your head and move your feet apart. Yes, that’s it, but wider. Head up, eyes to the floor, and hold that position.”

       Sarah had never witnessed anything so obscene. Once Susan was positioned to his liking, Mr Virgil circled her like a tiger, examining every inch of her body. Once or twice, he even ran a hand over her flanks. Susan flinched and coloured red all over from the humiliation, but made no move to break position or cover herself in any way. The only sign of her anguish was the occasional sob or whimper. She was a broken girl, Sarah knew. After what seemed like an eternity, Mr Virgil finally seemed satisfied and turned to address the class.

       “This, girls,” he said, “is what’s called ‘The Standing Position’. You will all become very familiar with it. It is the first position mentioned in The Female Manifesto and you will be required to adopt it often. It is the standard, default position for a female awaiting instructions. Allow me to demonstrate some of its advantages.”

       Mr Virgil paused while he went to retrieve something from under his desk. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat when she saw that it was a short, whippy cane and she feared that Susan’s ordeal was about to get a whole lot worse. Instead of striking her, though, Mr Virgil merely took up position at her side and used it to point at her like some demented weather man.

       “You will notice,” he said, “that ‘The Standing Position’ leaves a female completely vulnerable. Her most sensitive and intimate places are open to both view and correction.”

       He touched the tip of the cane to one of Susan’s small breasts and her entire body tensed.

       “For instance, if I was to strike Haywood here, on her tiny little tits, there is nothing in the way to obstruct my swing. Similarly,” he said, pushing the cane in between Susan’s legs, “I can easily punish her directly on the cunt without her legs getting in the way. It’s a very effective position, don’t you think, Haywood?”

       Susan’s entire body was wracked by a series of sobs so severe that she almost screamed her, “Yes, Sir.”

       Mr Virgil began to move the cane back and forwards between Susan’s legs, and Sarah could see it gently parting her pussy lips. After a few seconds, Sarah thought she detected the tiniest movement of Susan’s hips rocking herself gently along the length of it. It must be terrible to be aroused by a man like that, thought Sarah. After a few more seconds, Mr Virgil tired of his game, however, and withdrew the cane.

       “Please kneel down now, Haywood,” he said, “up off your heels, knees widely apart and hands still behind your head.”

       “Yes, Sir,” said Susan, slumping awkwardly to the floor, as gently as she could without using her hands for balance.

       “This is ‘The Kneeling Position’,” instructed Mr Virgil. “It is the second position in The Female Manifesto and is used for very similar purposes as ‘The Standing Position’. You will note, however, that this is a far more suitable height for, say, stuffing my cock in her mouth.”

       At this, there was an uneasy shift in the line of girls.

       “You can relax now, Haywood,” said Mr Virgil. “Sit down on your heels with your hands facing up on your thighs.”

       “Yes, Sir,” said Susan, her voice now devoid of all emotion.

       “This is a variation on ‘The Kneeling Position’. Your masters may allow you to adopt it if you’re well behaved and they intend to keep you kneeling for long periods of time. Because of the informal nature of the pose, however, the female must expose her palms to the male as a show of submissiveness. I, myself, enjoy hand-feeding a female in this position,” said Mr Virgil, smiling. “Alright, Haywood, back on your feet, standing position.”

       “Yes, Sir,” said Susan, automatically.

       Mr Virgil looked at his watch. “My, my, time is flying,” he said. “Girls, I’d like you all to strip now and take the pose Haywood is demonstrating. Quickly, now, your masters will be here soon.”

       His smile was almost beatific as he looked along the string of beautiful teenagers. Not for a moment did he think any of them would disobey him, but the line of girls just looked uncertainly at one another.

       “Now!” he yelled, banging his cane down hard across his desk.

       Sarah jumped at the sound, but his action had the desired effect. Her hands flew immediately to her collar and she began to undo her shirt. The thought of being naked in front of this man was shameful, but the thought of his cane striking her tender flesh was even worse. Her stripping friends clearly agreed. All the time she undressed, that was all Sarah could think about, that cane pressing against Susan’s breast and what it would feel like if it struck down across her own far more considerable chest. No, it would be too painful. She would learn her place. She would do whatever these men told her to do, try to please them as much as she could so that they wouldn’t want to hurt her.

       This was the state of affairs in New Haven as Sarah stood naked in front of her teacher.