The Female Manifesto

Chapter Two

       Despite his constant worry at the short time available to them, Mr Virgil seemed in no rush to complete a thorough review of his lovely charges. Naked, all of the girls in Sarah Smith’s class had assumed what they had recently learned was called ‘The Standing Position’ - their hands were behind their heads, their legs were spread widely apart, and their eyes were cast submissively down. We must look incredibly tempting like this, thought Sarah, like little toy soldiers all lined up in a row, just waiting for him to come and play with us. And so, despite the mixture of fear and resentment she felt at being so exposed, a little part of Sarah couldn’t really blame Mr Virgil for taking his time with their inspection.

       Moving only her eyes, Sarah risked a short glance to her left. Mr Virgil had started his examination at the far end of the room, well away from her, and she was desperate to know what he was doing. It was impossible to tell. A quick turn of the head would have told her all she needed to know, of course, but Sarah dared not make such an obvious movement. She had only come back to school a short while ago, had only just been introduced to her new life, but she’d already learned that a female who disobeyed a man was subject to terrible punishment, and she wouldn’t risk that for anything. Her living textbook stood directly in front of her.

       Susan Haywood was the most timid girl in class, a tiny, willowy, slip of a thing. In all the time Sarah had known her, she had never said ‘no’ to anybody, had never done anything to warrant a harsh word, but even she had balked at some of Mr Virgil’s instructions. So, he’d made an example out of her, and reduced her to a cringing mess of female obedience with just a few stinging slaps and harsh words. The point was not lost on Sarah. Even Susan, as accommodating as she was, was not subservient enough satisfy the new standard of female behaviour in New Haven. Men would not now accept anything less from a woman than her complete and utter surrender. A female had to learn to bend herself entirely to their will, to apply her mind and body, her entire being really, to satisfying male desires. The process had already begun in Susan. She, too, stood in the standing position, but there was no hint of affectation in her stance, no sign that she resented her situation. She simply stood, waiting. A light had disappeared from her eyes, certainly, but she now stood as a female who had been taught her true place, her order in the grand scheme of things. That light, Sarah thought, was her individuality, her independence, and it was gone forever. Mr Virgil was her world now, Sarah could tell, and she only existed to please him. Sarah whispered a quick prayer that her own light wouldn’t disappear the same way.

       Mr Virgil had moved further along the line, so much so, that Sarah could see his legs in her peripheral vision. He was only a few girls away now and Sarah was getting nervous. What would he say, what would he do? The smallest rebellion and he would punish her, she knew. I have to focus, she thought, ignore my old instincts and convince myself that it’s going to be okay. He’s a male and I’m a female. That means he’s entitled to do whatever he wants. There’s nothing at all wrong with that. I just have to be as passive as I can be.

       Oh God, he’s right next to me! Sarah could see his hand on Melissa Robinson’s hip and saw him lean in to whisper something in her ear, but she couldn’t tell what. Whatever it was, though, Melissa whispered, ‘Yes, Sir’ in reply.

       And then Mr Virgil stood in front of Sarah. He stood, for the moment, with his hands behind his back, and made no move to touch or speak to her. He’s challenging me, Sarah thought, seeing if I dare to look up and meet his gaze. He needn’t have worried. At that moment, Sarah had never felt so small and insignificant in her entire life, and, that if she looked up, the weight of his stare might just be enough to crush her into oblivion.

       Sarah saw Mr Virgil raise his hand, and she instinctively sucked in her breath. Time seemed to slow down as she watched it travel up, inch by inch, second by second, to finally, mercifully, settle on her breast. He brushed gently along the underside with his forefinger until his hand was high enough to caress her nipple with his thumb. Her heart was beating like a jackhammer, but it wasn’t enough to keep her traitorous nipple from stiffening under his tender ministrations. Fear and arousal mixed together for Sarah, and both made her putty in Mr Virgil’s hands. As she’d seen him do before, he leaned in very close to speak with her.

       “You have lovely tits, Smith,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear. “Almost too big for such a small girl. Tell me, are they sensitive?”

       “Yes, Sir,” Sarah whispered back.

       “Good,” he said, with a proprietary pat on her behind. “I’m sure your new owner will be very pleased.”

       And just like that, it was over. Mr Virgil had moved on to Mandy, the last girl in line. He’d stopped just long enough with Sarah to establish his dominance and make it plain to her what she was, where her true value as a human being now lay - as a slave, a piece of meat, something for men to amuse themselves with.

       Sarah was still coming to terms with the implications when she noticed something going very wrong beside her.

       “I beg your pardon, Caufield,” said Mr Virgil, his shocked voice suddenly audible to everyone in the room.

       “I said,” said Mandy, “that, no, I’m not enjoying that. Sir.”

       Sarah shifted her eyes sideways and could see Mr Virgil’s right hand wedged firmly between Mandy’s outstretched legs. Her friend had always been outspoken, a leader, and Sarah had been surprised that, with all they’d been through that morning, that Mandy had managed to hold her tongue for so long. She’d seemed to handle it well, though, had seemed to accept the inevitable, but, apparently, she’d decided enough was enough. She’s going to get it now, thought Sarah.

       But Mr Virgil did not immediately strike her. Instead, he withdrew his hand and took Mandy’s face tight in his grasp, one hand wrapped in the hair behind her head, the other cupping her chin up to look him in the eye.

       “Girls!” he yelled out of the side of his mouth. “It seems I have one last lesson to teach you this morning and Caufield has just volunteered to help demonstrate. You may turn your heads to watch.”

       Sarah, along with all her classmates, did so. Mandy still held the standing position, she had made no move to break it, but her demeanour was anything but submissive. Mr Virgil towered over her, but Mandy exhibited no fear, stood as proudly as she could, and met his steely gaze with one of her own. There was no question this was a battle of wills but, unfortunately, Sarah instinctively knew who the winner would be.

       Without breaking his stare, Mr Virgil said, “For those of you unaware of what has just transpired, let me enlighten you. While fondling Caufield’s cunt, I asked the question, ‘Are you enjoying this?’ And Caufield answered-,”

       “No, Sir,” finished Mandy.

       Mr Virgil smiled. “That’s right. You see, class, Caufield here thinks that just because she hasn’t directly disobeyed me and has held her position, that she’s entitled to answer my question in any way she pleases. That is what you were thinking, wasn’t it Caufield?”

       “Yes, Sir,” said Mandy, forcefully. “You may be bigger than me, and you can make me do what you want, but there’s no way I’m going to-“

       Whatever Mandy was going to say, though, was lost as Mr Virgil punched her hard in the stomach. All of the breath flew out of her as Mandy doubled over and collapsed to her knees.

       “Please forgive my crude response, girls,” said Mr Virgil, walking back to his desk, “but we don’t have the time for Caufield’s little rebellion. I think you’ll find what she was going to say, in a nutshell, was that men may be able to control her body, but will never be able to control her mind, etc, etc, blah, blah, blah. Pure rot, of course, but we shall now test the merits of that theory.”

       Mandy was still kneeling on the ground, hands wrapped around her stomach and fighting to catch her breath. Mr Virgil picked up the cane from his desk with one hand and, with his other, reached into the large cardboard box he’d gotten out earlier, and fished out a book. Flipping through it, he seemed to find the section he was looking for.

       “I shall now instruct Caufield with my cane as I read excerpts from chapter three of The Female Manifesto. It is entitled, ‘Feminine Speech & Behaviour Modification’. You’ll all go into much more detail of this throughout the rest of the school year, of course, but I think you’ll find this demonstration edifying, nonetheless.”

       Mandy looked up as Mr Virgil approached. There was pain on her face, but also resolve. “Whatever,” she said. “Just get this over with, you pompous-“

       And Mr Virgil struck, the cane swishing savagely through the air to catch Mandy brutally on her upper arm. A vicious welt seemed to come up almost immediately as Mandy screamed and clutched at it.

       “In accordance with her status as an inferior being,” Mr Virgil began, “the female must maintain a respectful manner of speech to the male at all times.”

       Whack! Whack! Whack!

       “By right of nature, the male has dominion over the female, and it is only fitting that this dominion be constantly acknowledged. It is both pleasing to the male to be continually reminded of his supreme status in nature and constructive for the female to habitually recognise it. Are you listening to this, Caufield?”

       Whack! Whack! Whack! “Ahhhhhh,” shouted Mandy, the only sound she could manage. She was too busy twisting every which way she could, trying to shield herself from the endless stream of blows.

       “Perhaps she’s bored,” said Mr Virgil, to the class. “I’ll skip ahead, then, to a section more relevant to Caufield’s infraction.”

       Sarah hoped it wouldn’t be a long section. Mandy continued to roll around on the floor, but each move only revealed a fresh patch of skin for the cane to terrorise. Whack! Whack! Whack! Mr Virgil was ruthless, and Sarah imagined that she would hear no other sound for the rest of her life than that of cane meeting flesh. Whack, whack, whack!

       “It is not enough, however, for a female’s speech to be merely respectful. The full gamut of her intelligence must be turned towards fulfilling the needs of the male. At times, she must be entirely obsequious, at others, less so. The onus is on her to determine which is appropriate. The only consistency to her responses should be that they delight the male and relentlessly reconfirm her position as his subordinate. Should her responses be found to be displeasing, the male is entirely justified in correcting her behaviour so that such unnatural conduct is not repeated.”

Mr Virgil gave Mandy three last stripes before he paused and looked up from his book. Her whole body was covered in a collection of angry, criss-crossed lines.

“Do you see where you went wrong now, Caufield?” he asked.

“Yes!” screamed Mandy, curled tightly into a ball. “Just stop!”

“Just stop, Sir,” corrected Mr Virgil, swiping her hip with the cane again. “Now, look at me. What should you have said when I played with your cunt?”

       Mandy looked up, breathing hard, trying to suck in as much oxygen as she could. “I should have … I should have said …”

       Whack!

       “Ow! I should have said I enjoyed it, Sir!” spat Mandy, quickly.

       “That’s right! Well done, Caufield!” said Mr Virgil, with evident glee. “Now, this is the important part, why should you have said that?”

       Mandy looked to Sarah for just a moment, just long enough for Sarah to see the bile rising in her throat. It was costing Mandy something to say these things.

“Because I knew that’s what you wanted to hear, Sir,” said Mandy, looking back to her teacher.

       “Excellent! Bravo, Caufield! That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. But, what else might you have said? What else do you think I might like to have heard?”

       “Um,” said Mandy, still looking at the cane poised ominously above her. “I guess I could have asked-“

       “Begged,” corrected Mr Virgil.

       “Begged you to, um, keep playing with me, Sir,” finished Mandy, uncertainly.

       “Yes, that would have been acceptable,” said Mr Virgil, nodding. “And if you thought I was in the mood for something cruder, something that made it clear what you’re good for, what would you have said then?”

       Mandy didn’t know how to answer. “I, um …”

       “Might you have begged me to stick a finger up you?” suggested Mr Virgil.

       Sarah could see the suggestion shocked her, but Mandy nodded her head anyway, resolved to finish this.

       “Yes, Sir,” she said. “I might have begged you to stick a finger up me.”

       “Well done, Caufield, you barely even flinched that last time. It was almost convincing. You really are quite bright for a female, even if you do think I haven’t beaten you.”

       Mandy looked puzzled, not sure what he was getting at.

       “You see, class,” he said, addressing them all again, “Caufield is still resisting me. She has learned her lesson about what she may and may not say, has learned the path of least resistance, so to speak, but she has not yet surrendered herself to it. I don’t think she’s even aware of it, but she’s desperately trying to retain an image of herself that is no longer appropriate. I believe it may take some weeks for her to abandon it completely, as Haywood over there already has, but I believe I can help her on her way.”

       Susan’s ears pricked up at the mention of her name, but she gave no indication that she resented Mr Virgil’s estimation of her.

       “Caufield,” said Mr Virgil, clicking his fingers and pointing down. “Lick my shoes clean.”

       Sarah prayed Mandy wouldn’t resist. She did, indeed, look mutinous for a second, but nodded her head again, resigned to her fate, and turned herself over so that she knelt low in front of Mr Virgil’s feet.

       “What do you say when given a command?” asked Mr Virgil.

       “I say, ‘Yes, Sir’,” replied Mandy. “I’m sorry, Sir, I forgot.”

       “As I said,” said Mr Virgil, slapping the cane down hard on Mandy’s hindquarters, causing her to leap up and cry out. “There is no more ‘sorry’ for any of you, only correction. Begin.”

       And Mandy did. Sarah watched as her friend bent her head down to Mr Virgil’s black, leather shoes and poked her tongue out to dab at them experimentally. Even Sarah could see that they were spotlessly clean, but she understood Mandy’s hesitation. If it was her at Mr Virgil’s feet, she, too, would need a moment to accustom herself to the task. What, she thought, would the sensation be like on my tongue? What would it feel like to make myself so small and sense him, so tall, so powerful, standing above me?

       “Enough preamble,” said Mr Virgil, looking down. “Start licking properly, Caufield, long strokes with your tongue.”

       “Yeth, Thir,” said Mandy, her mouth now otherwise occupied.

       Sarah stood transfixed. The movement of Mandy’s tongue was mesmerising. To Sarah, every time she licked along the length of Mr Virgil’s shoe, she became less and less of a human being. This is what an animal does, she thought, a dumb animal whose only thought is of pleasing its master. Mr Virgil had said he was trying to help Mandy on her way. Sarah believed him. If it was her licking his shoes, it would have been impossible to think of herself as anything other than his slave.

       Minutes must have passed as Mandy debased herself thus, but Mr Virgil gave no word for her to stop. The look on his face was serene, at peace. It was clearly natural for him to revel in the degradation of a girl like Mandy. He’s a true believer, realised Sarah. This is where he thinks we really belong. He could let her do this forever.

       Ding! Ding! Ding!

       The whole class startled at the ringing of the bell. It was a familiar sound to them, one they had all heard a thousand times before, but, to Sarah, it couldn’t have been more disturbing. Its very normality simply highlighted the perversity of everything else she had just seen and done.

       “Damn,” said Mr Virgil, looking at his watch. “Get up, Caufield, get back in place.”

       Mandy looked up to make certain he was serious, but his attention was already focused elsewhere.

       “You, too, Haywood,” he said. “Get back in line. Standing position, all of you, but keep your eyes up. I think it will be beneficial for this.”

       Mandy and Susan didn’t need to be told twice. Susan trotted quickly back to her place, not even bothering to lower her hands from behind her head as she did so. Mandy rose somewhat more languidly, but she, too, managed to resume the standing position, with only the barest acknowledgement of the pain her welts must have been causing her. She even managed to give Sarah a little wink before they once again had to focus on Mr Virgil.

       “That sound, girls, as you might have guessed, signifies that your new masters will be arriving for homeroom momentarily. I expect you all to be on your best behaviour. These young men have been preparing for this morning for quite some time, have worked hard to ready themselves for the challenge of managing females like you, and it is only fitting that you show appropriate gratitude for such effort. Do you understand?”

       “Yes, Sir,” they all said, his words only serving to increase their apprehension.

       “Good,” said Mr Virgil. “Because if any of you decide to put on a show like Haywood and Caufield did this morning, I will not hesitate in assisting your new masters to teach you suitable manners.”

       Mr Virgil paused to let his words sink in and let his eyes drift across those of every girl in line. Sarah could feel her panic rising. She had no idea how she’d react once the boys came into the room. It was one thing to have to submit to Mr Virgil, a virtual stranger, but to have to behave like that in front of boys her own age, boys she knew well, that would be another thing entirely. Sarah felt light-headed, a little like she was losing her mind.

       “Fine,” said Mr Virgil. “I only have one thing left to say to you all, then. Obey, girls, obey without hesitation. It is your lot in life from now on and you had best learn to embrace it.”

       And then, as if one cue, the sound of heavy feet came clearly audible from the hallway. First one pair, then another, and another, until the thrum fairly echoed inside Susan’s head. A few even began to run, and Sarah could completely picture her former classmates excitedly pushing and shoving each other down the corridor. She could also make out their voices now, their laughing, their whistling. It was all so familiar. Only when the cacophony was right outside the door, as loud as it could possibly be, did the sounds finally begin to recede and die down. Sarah could picture that, too, the boys, her old friends, settling themselves down and lining up outside class as they had always done.

       Only this time was different, thought Sarah. This time they had not come for some boring lesson but, rather, to claim what was now theirs by right. Sarah herself, and all others like her.

       Ding! Ding! Ding! The second bell sounded and was immediately met with an answering knock at the door.

       Mr Virgil walked over to it and took the handle in his hand.

       “Ready yourselves, girls,” he said, quietly over his shoulder, and then proceeded to pull open the door.

       David Molloy’s was the first face to appear, wavy brown hair and green eyes. He was the class clown and, true to form, his face lit up with a huge grin as he took in the scene before him. Mr Virgil ushered him inside and he wandered nonchalantly over to lean against the teacher’s desk, his arms folded across his chest, looking like he might break into hysterics at any moment.

       Next came Steven Newton. ‘Cute Newt’ as the girls called him in private. He was tall, athletic, and very, very, shy. His face reddened straight away and he looked like he might die of embarrassment. His eyes grew huge, though, as he raised his eyebrows and looked over to David, who couldn’t resist laughing at the expression on his face.

       Then came Alexander Torres. And Jonathan Welles. Angelo Papadopolous and Daniel Edwards. All the boys, in fact, that Sarah had come to know in New Haven. All of them paraded past her into the room and witnessed her standing naked and utterly exposed, most of them smiling and joking with one another as they did so. Indeed, not even one of them had the decency to look truly displeased at Sarah’s predicament. They just looked her up and down and joined the growing throng around Mr Virgil’s desk. Chris Fletcher even gave her a wave as he took his place.

       Sarah felt herself colour all over and had to fight hard to resist the overwhelming urge to cover her body. The boys all dressed in their usual uniform of shirts, ties and blazers only heightened her sense of shame. It was nearly unbearable, and she was not surprised to feel her bottom lip begin to quiver and water spring to her eyes.

       She might have resisted the urge to really cry, however, had David Molloy not pointed straight at Melissa Monroe’s crotch and said to no one in particular, “Who knew the top didn’t match the tails?”

       His joke was met with raucous laughter from all the boys, and Sarah couldn’t hold back any longer. She let out a little moan, muffled as best she could, and tears began to pour freely down her face. It wasn’t fair, she thought, we haven’t done anything wrong. Why does being a girl mean I have to stand here like this? Why do they have to be so mean? But a little voice inside Sarah’s head already knew the answer. Because they can, it said.

       “Check out Deb’s tits,” said Tony Marciano. “She must have been wearing a push-up bra all this time. That’s false advertising, Deb!”

       More laughter, and Sarah was not alone in her despair. All of the girls, as far as she could tell, were crying now, even Mandy. None of them broke position or truly spoke, but it was infectious, and the sound of females weeping and sobbing began to fill the room. It was enough to break the boys from their revelry, however, and they looked questioningly towards Mr Virgil, who had just guided in the last boy.

       “Pay it no mind, gentlemen,” he said. “Remember what we have learned. Tears in the female are like the tears of a crocodile – designed to illicit a sympathy that is not deserved. The female propensity for crying is also a sign of their inherent inferiority and weakness. They are incapable in so many areas that they must often resort to such theatrics to manipulate the male into doing for them. It is like a baby crying for its mother because it cannot feed itself. I suggest you watch how quickly it stops once the female realises the futility of such action in a situation where the male refuses to fall for such an obvious ploy.”

       And then, surprisingly, they did watch. Sarah had never seen her male classmates sit so still. They were clearly used to listening to Mr Virgil and she wondered just what he’d been teaching them in the girls’ absence. Whatever it was, the entire sixth form class of ‘The New Haven School’ now just stared intently at their female counterparts like a bubbling science experiment, without displaying a single care for any of their feelings. And, slowly, it began to work. Sarah felt her tears drying up. Not for the reasons Mr Virgil gave, she was sure, but because of the stares themselves. It was somehow even more humiliating being seen as just a curiosity, a thing, to these boys, rather than simply being naked in front of them. Sarah realised that Mr Virgil had been right about one thing, though, she no longer expected any sympathy from her old friends, if she had in the first place. The looks in their eyes made it clear that, whatever their feelings for her before, they now looked upon her as something quite different from themselves, something less than human, something that it was acceptable for them to watch in pain.

       Eventually, Sarah stopped crying completely. She longed to wipe the residue from her face, but knew that she mustn’t lower her hands. If Mr Virgil had cause to punish her in front of the boys, Sarah thought she might die. She just had to stand there and let it dry upon her cheek until they told her she might do otherwise. Even something as simple as wiping her face was out of her control now. Sarah felt drained, lost, like her whole body just wanted to shut down. It was too difficult to do anything other than stare vacantly at the floor, so that’s what she did, as the sound of weeping faded gradually around her.

       “You see, gentleman,” she heard Mr Virgil say. “Don’t give in to them and they will give in to you. It is the natural order of things. I think we can begin the ceremonies now.”

       Sarah’s mind suddenly leapt back to life at this pronouncement and her head bolted up.

       “Gather your things, boys,” said Mr Virgil, pointing off behind the girls, “and then take your place behind your allocated slave.”

       Sarah watched as the assembled boys roused themselves from their huddle and moved off towards their desks. To get to them, however, they had to get past the line of girls bisecting the room, and Daniel Edwards headed straight for the gap between Sarah and Mandy. Sarah’s eyes followed him the whole way, but she wasn’t sure he even noticed, so intently was he looking at Mandy. He even gave her a playful wink and smile, and Sarah had a sneaking suspicion who Mandy’s new master was.

       Sarah frantically scanned the mass of boys to see if anyone might be looking at her in the same way, but nobody seemed to be. It could be any of them, she thought, I could belong to any of them. I probably already do, I just don’t know it yet.

       Daniel turned sideways to squeeze between Mandy and Sarah, and put his hands on Mandy’s stomach and back, as if to brace himself.

       “You’re so soft,” he whispered to Mandy. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

       And then he was gone, his back brushing past Sarah, the fabric of his blazer scraping against her naked skin. They take it for granted now, she thought, that they can just touch us whenever they feel like. Daniel was already handling Mandy like she’d always been his, and soon, Sarah knew, somebody would be handling her the same way.

       To her relief, nobody else walked directly past Sarah, didn’t put their hands upon her, but all of the boys had managed to disappear through the line and could now be heard fumbling around in their desks behind the girls. What were they getting? What are they going to do to us? The wait was agonising as Sarah’s mind conjured up all manner of horrible visions to answer these questions. What was taking so long?

       “Hurry up, gentlemen,” said Mr Virgil, standing at the front of the class. “We haven’t got all day.”

       That seemed to spur the boys into action. The sound of desks slamming shut rang out all around the room and was soon followed by the sound of footsteps as the newly-minted masters took their places behind their newly-minted slaves. A shiver ran the length of Sarah’s entire spine as she felt the first exhalation of someone’s hot breath on the back of her neck. Oh God, he’s right behind me, she thought. Who is it?

       Sarah didn’t have time to wonder, though, as Mr Virgil clapped and rubbed his hands together as the last boy, apparently, took his place.

       “Well, boys,” he said, “it seems we are ready at last. I think a few words are in order, though, before we begin.”

       His smile, as he looked above the girls’ heads, at each of his true charges in turn, was genuine and full of pride. It was nothing like the patronising grin he had offered to the girls all morning. Mr Virgil looked exactly like a man about to realise his dream.

       “This is a momentous day, gentlemen,” he said, “a day when each of you shall taste, for the first time, the fruits that a sick society denied to you for so long. This is a day that you will remember forever, the day when each of you ascends to your true place in the order of nature. This is the day, gentlemen, when a man becomes a master!”

       Spontaneous cheering and applause broke out behind Sarah. They love him, she realised immediately, and why not? He’s lead them here, to me, standing like this, ready to do whatever they tell me, with no way to resist.

       Mr Virgil held up his hands in mock humility, waiting for the display of adulation to settle down. “Thankyou, my boys, thankyou, but it’s really not necessary. I have done nothing but show you the true path that you should have been walking all along, and it has been my privilege to do so. You should be congratulating yourselves. I know how hard you’ve all worked and I couldn’t be more proud of your efforts. These lowly females standing in front of you, they are your reward, and all that remains is for me to confer them upon you, as is your right.”

       Some more applause and cheering, and a modest nod of the head from Mr Virgil. He did not overly revel in the praise, however, but went to his desk and gathered an armful of copies of The Female Manifesto from the box on his desk. As soon as he had as many as he could carry, he went to stand in front of Mandy and her Master, probably Daniel, standing behind her. He looked pointedly at Mandy, silently warning her not to resist, before he spoke.

       “Turn and kneel before your Master, slave,” he said.

       Sarah held her breath, but, apparently, the memory of the cane had not yet faded enough for Mandy to risk another encounter with it so soon.

       “Yes, Sir,” she said, as she turned and knelt as instructed, up off her heels, as they had all been taught. Mr Virgil immediately ignored her and addressed himself to her Master.

       “Will you, Daniel Edwards, accept this slave as your own? Will you take responsibility for her actions, train her in accordance with the laws of nature and New Haven, and assume your rightful place as her superior?” asked Mr Virgil.

       “I will,” answered Daniel, solemnly, as if he had rehearsed it many times.

       “Then, by the power vested in me by the state of New Haven, I authorise you to claim this slave,” said Mr Virgil.

       Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw Daniel bend slightly and encircle Mandy’s neck in a smooth metal collar. It was an inch or so wide, hinged, and padded on the inside. A circular dog tag dangled from the front. Mandy stiffened as it closed around her. A small piece of metal at the back functioned as a latch that Daniel slipped a tiny padlock through as he roughly pushed Mandy’s head down. The click as he closed it shut was quiet, barely audible, but Sarah knew it sealed Mandy’s fate forever.

       “You are mine, slave,” said Daniel. “Kiss my feet and acknowledge yourself owned.”

       “Yes, Master,” said Mandy, barely above a whisper, but Sarah could see enough that she bent her head dutifully to Daniel’s feet.

       “Congratulations, Daniel,” exclaimed Mr Virgil, offering his free hand, the formalities apparently over, the rest of the boys clapping politely.

       “Thankyou, Sir,” said Daniel, accepting the handshake. “I’ll do my best to live up to everything you’ve taught us.”

       “I’m sure you will, my boy, I’m sure you will. Have you given any thought to what you might name her?”

       “Actually, Sir,” answered Daniel, “I’ve already named her. I took your advice and decided on something really servile for her. It’s already engraved on the tag on the front of her collar.”

       Mr Virgil bent carefully down, his arm still full of books, and jerked Mandy’s collar around.

       “Muffy!” he chortled. “Oh, Edwards, you have been paying attention! She’s an uppity one, this girl, as you can see by the stripes I had to give her earlier, but to have to answer to Muffy! I think that will do more to teach her her place than anything I might have done. Truly, congratulations, young man. I think you’re going to make a fine master.”

       “Thankyou, Sir,” said Daniel, the effect of Mr Virgil’s praise evident in his voice.

       And, just like that, Mandy Caufield ceased to be, replaced by Muffy, slave of Daniel Edwards.

       Mr Virgil exchanged pleasantries with Daniel for a few more seconds before he handed him a copy from the stack of books in his arms and moved to stand in front of Sarah.

       This is it, she thought, I’m going to be owned! Who’s behind me? Please let him be nice!

       As with Mandy, or Muffy as she was now called, Mr Virgil spent a few seconds looking at Sarah before he spoke. His stare was just as confronting as before and she lowered her eyes under its intensity.

       “Turn and kneel before your Master, slave,” said Mr Virgil.

       “Yes, Sir,” replied Sarah, and turned slowly around.

       James White! Her master was James White! Sarah knew almost nothing about him other than his name, he’d arrived in New Haven only a few months before she was taken from Diane, but at least the suspense was over. He owned her now, anyway, and all Sarah could do was hope that she could please him. The brief smile he gave her as she began to kneel gave her some hope that he might be kind.

       “Will you, James White,” repeated Mr Virgil, “accept this slave as your own? Will you take responsibility for her actions, train her in accordance with the laws of nature and New Haven, and assume your rightful place as her superior?”

       “I will,” said James, with the same solemnity as Daniel.

       “Then, by the power vested in me by the state of New Haven, I authorise you to claim this slave,” said Mr Virgil.

       Sarah watched hypnotised as James raised the collar he held in his hands and fitted it tightly about her neck. It did not choke her, but she could feel it pressing against her, and knew she always would. Without prompting, Sarah leaned forward so he could fasten it behind her. The click of the padlock locking was no less momentous for Sarah this time, than when she had heard it happen to Mandy. She was collared, sealed in an unbreakable ring of steel, never to take it off unless her Master decided to let her.

       “You are mine, slave,” said James. “Kiss my feet and acknowledge yourself owned.”

       Sarah didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Master,” she said, and bent her lips to his feet. The leather of his shoes felt cold, and the smell of polish filled her nostrils, but she pressed as hard as she could against them. She had been right before, it was impossible to do this and still consider herself James’s equal. She pictured him looking down at her and knew that no man could respect a girl who behaved like this. What man would want to?

       It’s because they’re so much bigger than us, thought Sarah, that they can make us do this. Maybe they’re right, and this is exactly where I belong.

       This was the state of affairs in New Haven as Sarah knelt before her Master.