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head. It was an illicit sensation, in a perverse way similar to the thrill she had felt making the raids on the Close. She could enjoy it if she chose, and tell the other girls later it was just an act.
    And so when her turn came she followed dutifully at his heel, stopping when he did and matching his every move. By the time he was done, her nipples were hard and there was a slickness between her labia.
    Next came jogging round the perimeter of the lawn in what amounted to a high-stepping pony trot, while Warwick stood in the middle. ‘Lift those knees high,’ he instructed. ‘I want to see those breasts bouncing in time with your step. Yes, even small ones like yours can jiggle if you make them, Sian.’
    And round and round they went, like ponies in some dressage event. Tara felt her attention wandering as she lost herself to the simple pleasures of physical exertion and fresh air flowing over her bare skin. Her breasts bobbed heavily to the rhythm of her steps. Daniela’s golden tan backside rolled and wiggled hypnotically ahead of her. Was that how her rear was moving? God that was sexy!
    ‘Halt!’ Warwick commanded, checking his watch. ‘Form a line and stand at submission!’
    They obeyed almost without thinking, forming up to the right of Tara, flushed and sweaty, chests rising and falling steadily.
    ‘We have time for one last drill position,’ Warwick said. ‘This is called: “Presenting your Privates for Inspection”. At the command you will bend forward until your head is level with your knees, displaying your pudenda and rear orifices to the maximum. Present!’
    And they bent over as instructed, Tara feeling her buttocks open, realising she was even more exposed than when eating from her bowl. He could see right up into their pussy slits and anuses. Looking back between her spread legs she had an upside-down view of Warwick surveying the row of female genitalia before him.
    ‘I want to see those sex pouches pouting and wet,’ he told them. ‘Any girl who has not become even slightly aroused, however unwillingly, by what I’ve put you through this last hour must have something wrong with her. It’s a perfectly natural reaction, you know. A dry vagina will receive three strokes of my cane, a properly wet one, just a single. However many strokes I deliver, you will each thank me properly for them. Do you understand?’
    ‘Yes, Sir,’ came the strained reply.
    ‘You should be grateful. Your pubes will be getting a lot more use this morning, so they might as well be lubricated beforehand.’
    Tara felt dizzy, but not from bending over. Where did Warwick learn how to handle women so well? The army had never taught him that – had it? She had seriously underestimated him. And what about the other residents?
    Warwick was standing behind Hazel. ‘Mmm … that’s a fine rear you have there, girl.’
    ‘Th – Thank you, Sir,’ came Hazel’s tremulous reply.
    ‘And properly wet labia. That’s a good response. Just one stroke …’
    There was the sound of a swish followed by a little squeak from Hazel, then: ‘Thank you very much, Sir.’
    Warwick moved on down the line. Sian received two strokes with a warning to try harder for her own good. The others were all better aroused. Finally it was Tara’s turn.
    He stood right behind her, cupping her pubic mound in his hand while his thumb twirled about the tight pucker of her anus. This can’t be happening to me, she thought. But he had his fingers inside her now, rubbing them between her sex lips, assessing her arousal. Despite her shame she held still. All that was left to her was to endure what came without flinching. Warwick slid two fingers into the mouth of her vaginal sheath, sampling her hot tight slick depths. Tara bit her lip.
    Then the hand was removed. ‘That is a prime cut of flesh you have there, girl, and very well oiled.’
    She felt a stinging swipe of holly across her taut buttocks, the spines scraping her pouting