The Female Manifesto

Prologue

Sarah sat on the bus and stared out the window. The streets of New Haven were bathed in the soft glow of early morning sunlight and Sarah fancied that the town itself was just waking up as she noticed the first stirrings of the day’s activity. A shopkeeper was rolling up his shutters; a young boy in pyjamas was playing with his dog on the front lawn. Seeing this, Sarah could almost let herself believe that things were still normal.

       A jogger ran down the street in the opposite direction of the bus. He noticed Sarah watching him and gave her a little smile and a wave as the bus rushed past him. She raised her own hand to wave back, but only got it part-way up before she saw the woman running along behind him. She was completely naked, or nearly so, except for her running shoes and ankle socks, and was clearly struggling to keep up with the man. They were gone in a second, but Sarah could just make out the smooth metal collar that encircled her neck and the leash that ran from it straight to the jogger’s right hand. No, she thought, things were definitely not normal.

       It all began with the plague. In truth, the news had said, it was probably a biological weapon rather than a naturally occurring disease, but nobody knew who had released it, or where it had come from. No one group of people seemed immune to it, anyway, and the plague killed quickly and indiscriminately. The only people left now were those who were lucky enough to have some sort of natural immunity to the virus, winners of some bizarre genetic lottery, roughly half of one percent of the world’s population at last estimate. Sarah was one of those lucky few.

       At first, the survivors of the plague were scattered, alone, and merely eked out an existence where they could. In the intervening years though, they had found one another, banded together, and tried to resume some semblance of their former lives. In the here and now, that meant New Haven. It was what they used to call a planned community, a place where families could move and shut themselves away from the crime and corruption of the big cities. It had its own power and water supplies and more than enough room to accommodate the first settlers who found it. That had been eight years ago, and New Haven’s population had swelled to well over a hundred thousand, one of the last bastions of civilisation in the world.

       Sarah had come here when she was ten, a year after the plague had struck, when New Haven was first being settled. Up until then she had been cared for by Diane, a young woman who said she had just found her wandering in the street one day. Apparently, they were the only two people to have survived in their entire town, wherever that had been, Sarah couldn’t remember.

       They came to New Haven together and, at first, their new life seemed a lot like their old one. The two of them were allocated a house, Diane found a job, and Sarah went to school. There were few real families in the new town as the plague had rarely spared two members of any one bloodline, but most of the children managed to find homes, usually with people like Diane that had brought them there in the first place. New Haven was a town determined to bring society back from the brink of oblivion, to be the phoenix rising from the ashes, as Nathan Grey had said in one of his editorials.

       Nathan Grey was one of the original discoverers of New Haven, had taken over the running of the town’s newspaper, and was once one of the most respected men in the town. Now he was, for all intents and purposes, its complete lord and master. A year ago, Grey had published two books, Principles of Patriarchy and The Female Manifesto. In them, Grey argued that the great new society of New Haven should not merely attempt to emulate the failed society that had preceded it, but instead, try to surpass its accomplishments by correcting the old mistakes before they were cemented in the foundations of the new one.

What this meant, of course, was that females had to be strictly controlled. Females, Grey said, were the cause of most of the former society’s ills. Their clamouring for voting rights, sexual liberation, equal representation, all had dominated the public forum of the last century and diverted society’s attention away from the real issue it should have been focusing on. Happiness. And happiness, as Grey defined it, was a world in which men were happy. Females, he said, were naturally subservient to the male, that was obvious from the ease with which the average man could subdue and tame them if he wished. Nature had surely intended man to use these creatures for his own comfort, and it had only been the good nature of men that had let them off their knees in the first place. Their intelligence, he argued, was misleading. Man had been convinced that because she could speak and reason as he did, that what a female had to say was equally as valid as his own thoughts and ideas. This was an error. The lesson of history, if it was to teach them anything, was that a female’s intelligence was not the same as a man’s. Indeed, whenever females had involved themselves in government, or any decision making really, it had only served to cloud and confuse an issue, this surely being self-evident. Nature, Grey argued, had only granted the female intelligence so that she could better serve and please her natural master, the male. And the only way to ensure that female involvement did not interfere with the development of New Haven was to enshrine their subservience in law.

Not surprisingly, Grey’s ideas gained great acceptance among the male population of New Haven and, six months ago, he was elected mayor in a landslide victory with a mandate to write a new constitution. Some females had tried to run against Grey’s platform but, as few women could get past the hulking male guards at polling places, they were soundly defeated.

Grey’s new constitution lowered all females to the level of property and a mass relocation and reorganisation project began. All females nineteen and over were rounded up and randomly allocated to male citizens in a town-wide lottery. The few married women there were automatically became the property of their husbands. Girls under thirteen were allowed to stay with their guardians, but slightly older girls, like eighteen year old Sarah, were taken to a group home where they spent months waiting for the school system to adapt to the changes that would soon take place. Sarah wondered where Diane was and if she was happy.

This was the state of affairs in New Haven as Sarah drove towards the first day of her new school year.

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.

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.