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in single file into the back garden, where a crumbling crazy paving patio opened onto a strip of rough lawn with overgrown flowerbeds on either side. Suddenly emerging naked into the open air in daylight rekindled their sense of shameful exposure. But the back gardens of the Close were only overlooked by their immediate neighbours. The only people who might see them were more of their captors.
    ‘Halt. About face!’ Warwick called. ‘Look to your right … form a line from Tara … straighter than that! Feet spread so they are further apart than your shoulders, toes touching your companions’ on either side. Keep your hands behind your back, bow your heads meekly and look at the ground. We shall call that position: “Standing at Submission”. Remember how you got there. Now, bring your right foot to your left smartly and stand straight, heads up, eyes front, shoulders back, clasp your hands to the back of your necks with your fingers interlocked, and chests out.’
    They obeyed, acutely aware of Hilary, Roberta and Khan watching with interest from the patio. Warwick strode down the line of girls with their clenched thighs and trembling breasts, looking them critically up and down as though inspecting soldiers on parade.
    ‘I want to see those nipples properly displayed,’ he said, tweaking and pinching each pair as he came to it. ‘Think what’s waiting for you and get some blood pumping.’ he continued over their moans and yips of surprise. ‘For the next week your skin is your uniform. And, like well polished brass buttons, I expect your teats to stand out.’ He continued to flick and twiddle their breasts until all their little crowns of pink and brown had been teased into unwilling erection. Striving not to show her humiliation at the way Warwick had pawed her, Tara tried to derive a perverse sense of pride in the fact that at least her nipples had stood up quicker than the rest.
    ‘That’s better,’ he said, turning on his heel to survey the line of tumescent papilla. ‘This is “Standing at Attention”. Whenever you are on parade I want to see you like this with your nipples hard and ready …’ he swished his holly cane through the air, ‘… or else!’ A renewed shiver of fear ran down the line. ‘Do you all understand?’
    ‘Yes, Sir!’ they chorused.
    ‘Now I will teach you the basics of conducting yourself as a slave before an audience. You will move smartly at all times, you will obey orders immediately and without question, you will show discipline. Understood?’
    ‘Yes, Sir!’ they replied.
    ‘Good. Now you will learn some more basic postures. Time permitting I will drill you in them every morning until you perform them without thinking. Next is: “Kneeling while on Display”. At the command, still keeping those hands behind your neck, you will go down onto both knees, thighs spread at ninety degrees, rears resting on your heels, your backs straight, eyes forward, chins up. Ready … Kneel!’
    Hurriedly they obeyed, opening their groins to the morning air. Warwick walked along the line of spread knees inspecting them. ‘The purpose of this posture is to demonstrate that you no longer have any “private parts”. You are so open to inspection that, if anybody wished, they could count every one of your pubic hairs.’ Daniela stifled a whimper but Warwick ignored her, looking down at Hazel. ‘Wider, girl,’ he told her, flicking his cane back and forth between her fleshy inner thighs so that she gasped and shuffled her knees further apart. ‘That’s better.’ He stopped in front of Cassie. ‘Don’t you know what ninety degrees means, you stupid girl? A right angle, like the corner of a box. Could you get a box between your thighs?’ Gritting her teeth, Cassie opened herself wider, showing off the dark golden pelt that furred her delta. Warwick paused again before Tara. She had her thighs spread until the big inner tendons stood out and was staring rigidly ahead, daring him