New Recruits

It was the end of summer. Officially, at the end of the week, Carol's school switched from summer to winter uniform. That meant a longer skirt, a cardigan and clumpy, flat, black lace-up shoes with white socks. It was the unsexiest outfit Carol could possibly imagine. She enjoyed the short summer skirt - and it was short - with the white, lightweight blouse that showed off her well-formed breasts to a tee. Best of all, though, she liked her slave sandals. Buckling her pretty feet into them every morning for the walk to school, knowing then that she would not take them off all day, and have to walk home in them too, that was the best feeling. Wrapping the leather strap around each ankle so that it crossed at the back, then tightening the buckle over her ankle bone, that made her feel a little twinge of arousal each time. And even though the sandals had worn in, going from abrasive and uncompromisingly painful during her first week of wearing them, to the point where they fitted her feet perfectly, they still felt sexy. They had aged with the summer, their leather softening and browning, and her feet acquired a light tan, but with white strips where the sandal straps covered her skin.

At least there was next summer to look forward too, with, hopefully, a nice new pair of slave sandals with rough, hard leather straps, needing to be broken in all over again.

The Slave's Guild had swelled to eight girls: Kate and Amber, the founders, were joint presidents. Carol herself was the secretary, and Kennedy, the newest recruit, was in Mr Potter's office undergoing her initiation.

Carol pretended to be on an errand to the staff room, but she lingered outside Mr Potter's closed office door and listened to the strokes of his cane fall on Kennedy's naked buttocks. She counted fifteen strokes. Three penalty strokes - that was good. Kennedy was, as of now, the eighth initiate of the Slave's Guild. Just her official punishment to come, and Carol was going to enjoy that, especially as she had Kennedy mapped out as her rival. Her tall, athletic figure, her long, sumptuously curly blonde hair - her natural gifts were the envy of most girls.

Kennedy emerged from the office red in the face, but not crying. Carol ducked out of sight, but intercepted Kennedy once Mr Potter's door was closed.

'How was that, Kennedy? Did you enjoy it?'

'God, it hurt. I'd never imagined so much pain, but somehow it was as you said it would be. God, I feel horny now. I feel like going back in there and asking him for more.'

'You could if you want. He'd give it to you. The cane, I mean.'

'I'd be too embarrassed, but I think I've got the taste for it now. And he is a bit of a babe.'

'It's funny, you get into this sort of ... zone ... where it really doesn't hurt any more. I feels like something else entirely - almost pure pleasure.'

'I can imagine that. I think I was starting to get there when he stopped. I wish it had gone on longer now.'

'Next time, Kennedy. I'll give you a few tips to make him keep going. Let's go back to class now. I want to see you sit on your hard wooden seat and writhe!'

That afternoon, after school, Kate, Amber, Carol and Kennedy walked over to Kate's house for a session with the Polaroid camera. Kennedy was walking too slowly, still stiff and in considerable pain from her caning, so Kate got her wooden ruler out of her schoolbag and whacked Kennedy on the bum with it, hard. Kennedy cried out.

'You walk faster or I'll whack you again, Slave.'

Kate walked alongside Kennedy for the rest of the mile-walk, and indeed whacked her again, half a dozen times. It seemed as if Kennedy deliberately slowed down at times so she would get another one.

All four girls piled into Kate's bedroom. The Polaroid camera came out, and Kennedy had to bend over, raise her skirt, and expose her knickerless backside to its scrutiny. Finally, she was allowed to stand up and see the results.

Kate gave Kennedy one of the Polaroid photos, but kept the other three, and then took a shot of her face for the Guild's Secret Scrapbook.

'Can I see the rest of the photos in the book?' Kennedy pleaded.

'Not until you've undergone the Ritual of Full Membership.'

'God, not another initiation.'

'No, you've done that, and done it well. But to become a full member, you have to get your secret name.'

'And to do that,' Carol came in, 'you have to submit to the sacred number. Thirty-one.'

'Thirty-one?'

'That's the record number of cane strokes, held currently by me. And that means I get to give you the "Thirty-one".'

Kate went to her clothes draw and rummaged behind her underwear, producing a heavy leather razor strop. She handed it to Carol.

'Now, Kennedy, if you wish to earn full membership of the Slave's Guild, you must take your skirt off and bend over the chair.'

Kate got the chair out from her desk, and Kennedy submissively bent herself over the back of it, placing her hands on the floor, which she was tall enough, and supple enough, to do with ease.

'Now, I'm going to give you thirty-one strokes of the strap, as hard as I can. If you move, or even put your hands on your bum, we start over from scratch. You must take the thirty-one without interruption. Is that clear?'

Kennedy mumbled a feeble 'Yes, Carol,' obviously anticipating how much it was going to hurt, right on top of her cane welts.

Carol loved this job, her greatest privilege of being the record holder. The official rules stated that any new record holder was required to administer her number of cane strokes as a strapping to each and every member of the guild. So far, Carol was the holder by a big margin, and it didn't seem as if anyone else was going to even get close. Carol was considering going for her own record, aiming for thirty-six. That would become the new sacred number, and she would get to strap each of the other seven girls; that would be a night she'd treasure. She'd need to get in shape for it though - she'd been working out with light dumbbells at home, every afternoon, as many reps as she could stand. Kennedy was about to feel the benefit of that training.

Kennedy only lasted for fifteen strokes before she stood, crying. 'I can't stand this, it's too painful!'

'You weak girl!' Kate scolded. 'You didn't even make it half way.'

'If you can't do this today, Kennedy, you'll have to go in for another caning, then try again.' Carol used her most authoritarian tone.

'Now, do you think you can stand to have another attempt, or shall we wait until you've seen Mr Potter again?'

Kennedy sniffed. 'I'll bend over again. I'll show you. I won't flinch this time. And when I visit Mr Potter again, I'll be coming out of his office with a record number of stripes on my bum. Then I'll get to strap you fifty times, Carol. And you Kate! And you Amber. Just you wait!'

'That's the spirit,' Amber said, laughing. 'That's what we like to see in our guild members - a bit of backbone. I'll be looking forward to those fifty strokes.'

'So will I,' Carol said, 'but you have to take your thirty-one first, so bend over!'

Carol strapped Kennedy as hard as she could, trying to make her stand up again, so that she could start the punishment once more. She aimed again and again at the area where the greatest concentration of Mr Potter's cane strokes had fallen, knowing that would be the most painful. But Kennedy gritted her teeth and took the strapping.

When she stood up, finally, she sniffed and wiped away tears, and once more threatened the other girls with fifty strokes in the future. She had two more Polaroids taken before she was allowed to put her skirt back on.

Kate took the Guild's secret scrapbook and turned to a fresh page. Sitting at her desk, she stuck Kennedy's Polaroids in before handing the book to Kennedy.

Kennedy went to open the book, but Kate stopped her. 'First you must receive your secret name. Put your hand on the book.'
Kennedy complied.

'As joint president, I bestow upon you, the name Switch. You will be known as Switch among us, and you will not reveal or use that name outside the Guild. Is that understood?'

'It is understood,' Kennedy said.

'Good. Sign your new name on your page of photos.'

Kennedy did so, and was then allowed to sit and look through the book. She dwelt over Carol's page, trying to count the individual lines on her bum, but it was impossible. By the time the photo had been taken, they had mostly merged into a large purple and red swelling. She saw that Carol's secret name was Dominica.

'You see what thirty-one looks like? It's a lot worse than your fifteen, eh?'

'Yes, it is. I'm still going to get my fifty though, even if it takes me a couple of goes to work up to it.'

Carol sat on the bed beside Kennedy and gave her some suggestions of things to say to Mr Potter, to make him continue to cane her. They laughed together and Kennedy came up with some ideas of her own.

Due to the changeover to winter uniform, the Slave's Guild held a full meeting on Sunday afternoon. The resolution was to continue wearing their slave sandals to school, in spite of the rules, until such time as they collectively decided that the weather was too cold to continue. Only then would they submit to the school's choice of unsexy, ugly winter footwear.

At assembly on Monday morning, Mr Potter spoke. 'I notice that a number of girls persist in wearing sandals, in spite of the requirement to change to winter footwear as of today. You have had ample notice of this rule, so you will all wait behind after assembly.'

Of course, every one of the three hundred-odd girls had changed to their lace-up shoes, except for the eight members of the Slave's Guild. Even though they were mostly in different classes, they had all conspired to be sitting together at assembly. Mr Potter must have suspected something, when all the other girls left and the eight remaining occupied two adjacent benches.

'Now I know there's something going on here. Is this some kind of club that you girls have formed? If it is, I want an explanation.'

There was utter silence.

'OK, is there any among you who's parents can't afford the winter shoes?'

Silence again.

'Of course there isn't. I had to ask though.' Mr Potter walked around a bit, thinking. One of the girls tittered and he turned back.

'Who thinks this is funny?'

It was Kennedy, and she couldn't hold back. She burst out laughing.

'Kennedy McGregor, you will come with me to my office now. As for the rest of you, I'm not going to punish you now - it'll take too long. I'm letting you go with a warning. If you're still not wearing the correct uniform tomorrow, you will report to the gymnasium at 3.15PM. Do you know what that means?'

All of the girls said, 'Yes Mr Potter sir,' in unison, then they exchanged glances and smiles. Mr Potter dismissed them.

'Thirty-one!' Carol said to Kennedy as she left.

'Fifty!' Kennedy replied with a wink.

Carol hesitated, then turned to Mr Potter. 'May I see you about something, sir?'

'Of course, Miss Davis. Wait outside my office, and you may see me when I've finished dealing with Miss McGregor.'

Carol could hear everything from the chair outside Mr Potter's office. The swoosh of the cane, its impact on Kennedy's buttocks, Kennedy fighting back tears and counting off strokes. After twelve strokes, there was a pause, and some muted conversation that she couldn't hear clearly. Was Kennedy spilling the beans about the guild?

More strokes fell, twelve more. This was something. One more, and Kennedy would move into second place on the record table.
Carol counted to herself, twenty-eight ... twenty-nine. The pace was slowing, but the strokes continued to fall. Thirty ... Thirty-one! A pause, and Mr Potter saying something about this being more than he'd given any other girl.

'Please sir, don't stop. I've been very bad. I've been evil, and I must be severely punished for it. I must!'

'Very well, Miss McGregor. I hope you know what you're doing.'

Thirty-two! Damn, Carol thought. Better get ready for a strapping from Kennedy. She was strong, too - a netball player. She would hit hard.

Four more strokes fell, then Carol heard Mr Potter tell Kennedy to get up and put her skirt down. He was refusing to give her any more. Probably wise - he wouldn't want to put a girl into hospital.

Thirty-six strokes was an achievement, a new record, but Carol immediately found herself resolving to better it. She could take more, she knew it. Once she was in the zone, she could take any pain, absorb it, turn it into waves of pleasure. She set her goal at forty. Then she'd give Kennedy such a strapping. But for now, there was a strapping to take, and probably a caning as well, in the gym tomorrow.

Kennedy winked at Carol outside the office. 'Thirty-six! Get your bottom ready, Carol!'

Mr Potter invited Carol in and asked her to sit down and tell him what she needed to.

'Well, sir, when you asked us before if there was some kind of club ... I have to tell you that, yes, there is.'

'I thought as much. The slave sandals, no knickers, regular canings. I'd put two and two together a long time ago, about the time I caned you for the first time, I think it was.'

'Yes, sir. I haven't forgotten that day sir. Unfortunately, my record has just been broken. I was counting.'

'I knew you were. That's partly why you're here, isn't it? So you could hear me caning Miss McGregor. I know what's going on with your little club.'

'Well, I'd like to tell you more, sir, except it's secret. But I can say that the canings you give out, they're a fairly key part of it.'

'I'd guessed as much. And you probably realise by now that I'm playing along, to an extent.'

'So, are you going to cane us tomorrow, sir?'

'If you insist on turning up wearing those sandals, then yes. You will all be caned, and hard.'

'Then, sir, I would suggest that you don't plan to do anything else tomorrow afternoon.'

'You're a cheeky little pup, Miss Davis. You used to be such a good girl. Your teachers say they never heard a peep out of you, until the beginning of summer.'

'That's when I got my new sandals, sir.'

'Is it now? I'd like to think that's a coincidence, but I know it isn't.'

'Sir, what I really wanted to talk about was this rule about winter uniform. We've put together a petition, but we need tomorrow to get some more names on it. What we're asking for is the right to choose whether to wear the summer or winter uniform, depending on the weather. It's still summer weather, even though it's officially winter, and the cardigans and long skirts are so hot and sticky. The only part of me that's cool today is my feet, sir.'

'Funny you should mention that, Miss Davis. There's been some discussion among the teachers about that very thing. We're considering relaxing that rule, actually.'

'What do you think about it, sir.'

'Well, I think you girls should be, um, comfortable, so that you can study without the distraction of ...'

'So you like the summer uniform, sir?'

'Well, I think you girls are mature enough to decide when to wear it. That's what I'll be pushing for. Now, about this thing of not wearing your knickers, is that to do with the weather as well?'

The rest of the day was spent on collecting more names for the petition, but the opportunity was taken to recruit some new potential members of the Slave's Guild. After school, there was another session at Kate's with the Polaroid. Amber, Kate and Carol all wanted a good, close look at Kennedy's bum, and they took turns running their fingers over the welts. Kennedy, as was her privilege as the new record holder, called a full meeting of the Slave's Guild at five PM Tuesday, at Kate's house, where they would have some privacy.

At lunchtime on Tuesday, Carol, Kate and Amber went around all of the girls they'd approached yesterday about wearing slave sandals. Several had chickened out and worn lace-ups, so they had fifteen girls, including themselves. But they still had to get them to turn up at the gym after school.

All fifteen girls arrived at the gym at 3.15PM, wearing slave sandals and no knickers. They comprised all eight members of the Slave's Guild, and seven potential new recruits. Mr Potter had brought along his cane, and a spare.

'I want you to understand that you've all flagrantly broken the school rules by wearing your sandals today. I know there's a conspiracy happening here, and that some of you are innocent victims. You've allowed yourselves to be talked into breaking the rules, but that's no excuse, and you'll be receiving the same punishment as the others - twelve strokes of the cane.'
There were some gasps among the uninitiated, and two of the girls began to cry and plead to be let go home. Mr Potter was having none of it.

'There will be two parts to your punishment - this afternoon's caning, and tomorrow morning's strapping.'

More gasps and tears - not from the Guild members though.

'You will all come up to the stage at the beginning of tomorrow morning's assembly, and you will each receive a strapping in front of the whole school. You should know, at this point, that we've had a staff meeting and decided to relax the summer uniform rule. This will be explained at the assembly. However, we do not condone the way that you girls have conducted this campaign - with your flagrant disregard for the school rules - so you will all be made examples of. Do you understand?

All of the girls said they did, some through tears.

'And if any one of you is absent from assembly tomorrow morning, you'll be in my office at the first opportunity for a caning that'll make this one seem like the merest slap. Do you understand?'

The group caning took over an hour, and Mr Potter worked up a fair sweat doing it. For Carol, twelve strokes was no big thing - she was well used to the cane, having visited Mr Potter's office half-a-dozen times since her first caning. It still hurt terribly though, and she thought Mr Potter caned her harder than some of the 'CP virgins'. In total, so far, she had received 147 strokes. She thought about asking for three more, to bring up the 150, but decided against it. It would be considered showing off, in front of the new girls, and it would leave some extra incentive to get another caning, as soon as her poor bottom recovered from this one, and the thrashing Kennedy was going to give her. Not to mention tomorrow morning's assembly. Now, that would be a new experience.

All fifteen girls walked painfully over the mile to Kate's place. Kate's parents were away until late that night, so Kate and the other Guild members had organised a party. There were seven new girls to initiate, and then Kennedy would get to administer her strappings on the seven other existing members. It was decided that Kennedy should save her energy for that mammoth task, so each of the other current Guild members would get to strap a new initiate.

The afternoon was a spankfest, as Amber declared it. It began with the Polaroid camera, for which plenty of film had been purchased, out of guild funds. Shots were taken of everyone's cane welts, and seven new pages were started in the secret scrapbook. Carol now had so many photos that they had to create an appendix for her.

Then it was down to the garage, and time for the new initiates to take their spankings; thirty-six strokes of the strop on their bare backsides, over the top of a dozen still-throbbing cane welts.

Carol's girl, Saffron, couldn't take the full thirty-six on her first attempt, or, unluckily, her second. She was crying. She had suffered thirty strokes of the razor strop, but not one of them counted. All the other new girls had taken their official spanking, so now it was just her left.

'I really want to do this,' Saffron argued, in response to Amber's demand that she not be admitted until she'd taken another caning from Mr Potter. 'What about if you tie me up? Then I couldn't flinch, could I?'

'That would be cheating,' Amber insisted. 'It's too easy.'

'Well, give me more then - twice as many. Three times, I don't care. You decide.'

Carol stepped in. 'Look, she's my responsibility to punish. I say we tie her up and I'll give her a hundred!'

'Not enough,' Amber insisted. 'A hundred, plus fifty on the soles of her feet.'

'Agreed,' Carol said. 'That will be your punishment, Saffron. You can decline it if you wish, but if you still want to be in the Slave's Guild, then you will have to take another caning from Mr Potter, a dozen at least, and then get your strapping again, another thirty-six, or whatever the sacred number is by that time. It's your decision.'

'Tie me up, please. Then strap me all you want. I really want to join. Please.'

Kate found some nylon cord, and Amber stacked up two saw-horses. Saffron meekly held out her wrists and Carol tied them as tightly as she could.

'Here, let me show you,' Kennedy said, stepping in. She took the loose ends of Saffron's wrist cords and wrapped them around opposite ways between her wrists, then drew them tight. Saffron cried out at the pain of the cords biting her soft skin.

'That's clever,' Carol said. 'Where'd you learn that?'

'My secret,' Kennedy replied. 'Now you do her ankles, tight as you can.'

Carol wasn't having Kennedy get the better of her, the competitive cow. She would show her about tying knots. She undid the straps on Saffron's slave sandals so that she could get the cords right in around her ankles. Then she copied Kennedy's method of tying the cord, pulling the ends tight with all her strength. Saffron cried out even louder, and Carol smiled at Kennedy.

Amber and Kate lifted the helpless Saffron from the floor and positioned her so that she drooped over the saw-horses. Her backside was at the perfect height for Carol to lay into it with the strap. And lay into Saffron she did. Her dumbbell training was paying benefits, and Saffron screamed in pain.

'This won't do,' Kate said angrily. 'The neighbours will hear that racket. Gag her!'

Saffron's knickers were found in her schoolbag, and Amber wadded them up and stuffed them in Saffron's mouth. Then a leather belt was looped twice around her head, through her mouth. It held the knickers in, and the buckle was pulled and fastened tight behind her hair.

Carol continued the strapping. She loved the feeling of power that came with it. Again and again she thrashed Saffron's arse with the heavy strop. Saffron would be screaming her lungs out by now, if she could as much as make a sound, which she couldn't. The little red-headed cow, Carol thought. Saffron was the teacher's pet, always top of the class. Yes, there would be plenty of girls at school who would pay good money to see this.

Too soon, the hundred strokes were used up. Amber had to stop Carol going over the limit. 'Save some strength, Carol. There's her feet to do yet.'

Of course, her pretty feet to strap. Carol had experienced a thrashing of the soles of her feet, once, by Mr Potter. It hurt more than the cane on her backside, she recalled. She was going to enjoy this, but she wished she were stronger, as strong in the arms as Mr Potter. Then she'd really make Saffron suffer.

Amber and Kate re-positioned Saffron for the bastinado, as they called it, and checked that she was OK to proceed. She nodded weakly to say she was. Her sandals were taken completely off, and her bound ankles were hitched to the sawhorse. Her head and shoulders rested on the cold, concrete garage floor.

Carol aimed each stroke carefully and put as much power into it as she could muster. She wished Saffron wasn't gagged so she could hear the effects of her work. The whimpering and writhing Saffron was able to produce was quite satisfying, though, in its own way.
Again, too soon, the fifty was up. Carol bent down and removed Saffron's gag. 'Did you enjoy that, my dear?'

'Yes, Carol, I enjoyed it.'

'I think you're lying. If you liked it so much, you'll want some more.'

'Please, Carol. I've had enough, please.'

'So, you were lying. You obviously didn't enjoy it.'

'Yes, I did. How can I convince you?'

'Take another fifty on the bum, that's how. Would you like that?'

At that point, Kate stepped in. 'She's had enough, Carol. She's just a delicate little thing. Look at her! She's getting strapped tomorrow morning, with the rest of us. Let's leave it there.'

Saffron was made to put her sandals back on and march on the spot, until she received permission to stop. It was the best thing, Kate explained to her, after a bastinado.

Carol reluctantly agreed. 'Yes, I suppose we have to get on.'

Kennedy came over. 'Yes, we have to get on. It's time for me to wield the strop now. And I'm going to start with you, Carol, while my arm's nice and fresh.'

Carol took a moment to absorb what Kennedy was saying. She was pouring with sweat with the effort put into punishing poor Saffron, and her backside still ached fiercely from the afternoon's caning. Twelve strokes was twelve strokes, and you could only get so used to it. Time for more pain. Carol resigned herself.

'I'm hot', she said. 'Mind if I strip off?' There was no objection, so she did, but she kept her sandals on, of course. She placed herself over the saw-hoses, backside raised and vulnerable, hands flat on the floor. She knew all the girls would be able to see her hanging tits, and her pussy, but that was half the fun.

Waiting for the first blow, Carol steeled herself. She was not going to give Kennedy the satisfaction of raising the slightest squeal of pain. Whatever Kennedy could throw at her, she would take it stoically.

Kennedy's first blow of the strop was right on the sweet spot. And it was hard! Fuck. Carol fought with herself. Another, same spot. Fuck. Fuck! It was like all twelve cane strokes landing at once. Was Kennedy the Bionic Woman? Again! Thirty-three to go - God, this was going to be tough. Get into the zone. Relax, breathe, enjoy it. Again! Fuck!

Gradually, Carol began to drift into that familiar realm, and she lost count of the strokes Kennedy was laying on her. The feeling of being naked, exposed and vulnerable in front of all these girls, some who were complete strangers. brought together by the love of slave sandals, and of pain, both given and received. What had poor Saffron felt like, tied up, gagged, helpless, the cords biting into her? Maybe next time, Carol could try that herself. It might be kind of nice. Anyway, her pussy felt nice and warm now, ready for something else.

'That's it.' Kennedy's voice. 'You're done. Get up.'

Carol came back to the present. 'Is that it? I thought you were going to really hurt me. Give me another thirty-six, like you mean it this time!'

Kate and Amber must have agreed, because Kennedy told her to bend down again, and another blow fell. Carol was straight back in heaven again.

Almost no time seemed to elapse before the second round of thirty-six strokes was over, but the feeling had been all pleasure. Carol could've easily taken another round, and she asked if she could.

'Better leave some space for the strapping in front of assembly tomorrow,' Kate advised. 'Anyway, it's my turn now. Can't have you tiring Kennedy out, can we.'

Carol agreed, and she got up. She felt strange, kind of floating. She watched Kate strip off. It wasn't in the rules, until now. Looks like there was a new rule.

Watching Kennedy thrashing Kate made Carol feel really hot. It was too much. She would have to go to the bathroom, and ...
All too soon, Kate was finished and it was Amber's turn. Amber had the most beautiful looking arse of all the girls, Carol thought. She was envious. And Amber's arse looked all the nicer for the neat stripes Mr Potter had engraved upon it. Better still, Kennedy was about to make it into a red-hot, pulsing centre of pain. Carol had to watch. She wanted to touch herself right there in the room, as Amber writhed and moaned under Kennedy's lusty blows. She wouldn't be able to watch and hold on for the whole of Amber's punishment, she thought, but soon it was over.

'Do it again,' Carol said. 'I missed it. Go on. Action replay!'

'Would you please, Kennedy?' Amber said, looking up. 'We can't have Carol getting all the special treatment, can we.'

Kennedy complied, but Carol had to go outside before it was over. No time to go into the house and find the bathroom. She leaned up against the outside wall of the garage, in a place where the neighbours couldn't see, and brought herself off. She ran her fingers over her butt cheek, feeling the cane welts in their sharp relief. Squeezing was like wringing liquid pain out of a sponge. She could hear the blows continuing, and Amber's moaning. She looked down at her feet and wriggled them in her sandals. Blows were still falling on Amber's lovely arse. Again, she climaxed, feeling her juices running down her leg. Waves of pleasure surged through her body in time with the sound of the strapping. It had to be more than thirty-six by now.

Carol went back inside.

'Find the loo OK?' Kate asked with a wink and a smile. 'I need to go myself now.' She ducked out of the garage.

Amber was slowly putting her clothes back on, but she didn't bother with her bra. Her nipples, erect, stood out clearly through her light school blouse.

'How many did you finish up on?' Carol asked her.

'A hundred. I'm a president, so I have to set an example.'

Kennedy was busy thrashing the next girl, and it still made Carol feel hot, but not as much as Amber had. One of the other girls, who Carol hardly knew, had a really nice arse too. She had a tattoo on it, which everyone was interested in. It gave Carol an idea - Slave's Guild tattoos. Something to bring up at the next meeting.

All fifteen girls turned up for assembly, in spite of the carrot of a horrendous caning in Mr Potter's office if they didn't. And their slave sandals were worn resplendently, as they stood in a line at the back of the stage.

Mr Potter explained the change in the uniform rule, and held up the petition that the Slave's Guild had collected. He took pains to point out that the fifteen girls were not being punished for their protest action - the petition was a fine expression of democratic voice - but for their flagrant disregard of the rules regarding school uniform. 'Fighting to change the rules does not entitle one to break them as they stand,' he said.

The fifteen girls were brought forward and made to bed over on three benches that had been placed along the front of the stage for that purpose. Each was told to raise her skirt. None wore their knickers, but the assembly couldn't see that. Mr Potter, however, had a perfect view; of fifteen beautiful young bottoms, bruised and reddened though they still were; of fifteen astounding young pussies of varying shapes and sizes, and in various stages of swelling; of fifteen pairs of slender young legs, slave sandals strapped tightly around their slim ankles.

He walked along the lines of girls, delivering three severe blows of the strap to each behind before moving to the next. He covered the entire line of girls eight times. The audience of three hundred girls and teachers was treated to a spectacle: each girl kept her head up for the entire twenty minutes of the punishment. Not one flinched, or looked away from the assembled audience. Three hundred and sixty times, the strap fell on soft, unprotected skin. Not one girl cried out, though there was a certain amount of moaning.

Carol headed for the nearest toilet to the assembly hall, hoping her flush didn't show above her blouse, or her nipples show through it (the bra had gone the same way as the knickers - another new rule). Looking in the mirror, she laughed - her state of arousal was so obvious. She found herself a booth and dropped her skirt immediately. She wasn't alone in the toilet for long, though; she could hear someone in the next booth. Kate? Kennedy? Saffron? She would see after she finished.