The arrival of so many new children at St Saviour’s had caused much excitement amongst the staff and governors. The anticipation of watching their humiliation and suffering as they struggled to cope with the harsh new routines brought a new degree of passion to their tired and flagging loins.

Weary, sore and filthy from they’re long journeys the children were being given refreshments in the hall when Miss Marchant strode in carrying a vicious looking whip in her hand.

“Assemble these children in the courtyard for a thorough cleansing now!” Alice ordered Rebecca Bolton the matron and then just as quickly strode out again to rejoin the governors and their guests in the courtyard where they waited with baited breath for the entertainment to begin.

Full integration into their new routines would take a while, but what couldn’t wait was to get them clean and then medically inspected. The many clandestine activities at St Saviour’s dictated that the hygiene and sexual health of the children was always a top priority.

This had always been a daily routine that the staff enjoyed enforcing.

Once the children were assembled in the courtyard, the staff set about arranging them into small groups, removing their filthy rags and attaching their wrists to the many hooks that were embedded in the brick wall.

Confused and shocked the other naked children looked on nervously, aware that this audience who was showing great delight in the other children’s distress, were also watching them.

Attached to the cold-water tap on the far wall of the courtyard was a hosepipe fitted with a special nozzle. The spray from this nozzle was designed to omit either a single jet or a wider more powerful spray, so that it was possible to hose down one child or many children at the same time.

The staff’s excitement grew as they stepped back to admire the first group of naked children whose bodies even if they were a little filthy looked perfect to abuse. However, their first pleasure was to roughly wash them.

“Face the front!” Alice instructed the children.

Selecting the wider more powerful spray the staff took it in turns to hose them down. This wide spray immediately drenched them all, its power lifting them off their feet and dashing their already sore bottoms up against the brick wall.

Their screams and cries soon filled the courtyard, in stark contrast to the laughter that the staff and governors made. The cold and powerful water had a very telling effect on the children’s genitals causing the girl’s nipples and the boy’s cocks to erect magnificently.

“Now turn and face the wall!” Alice shouted and staff ensured their compliance by the use of slender birches which startling the children into obedience. Any child who didn’t immediately comply with this command was unhooked and led to a waiting whipping horse to be thrashed mercilessly by a lusting member of staff.

A whipping so early in the procedure led the governors to gain much satisfaction and Greta Foulds to openly chorus her satisfaction, calling out for them not to spare the child’s bottom and thighs.

As the cleansing procedures continued the children’s shyness was soon forgotten as the unforgiving cold-water spray was directed onto their anuses. This had the effect of making them stumble forward and up against the brick wall, bringing many fresh screams as their genitals and breasts were roughly grazed.

“Release them and commence scrubbing them!” matron ordered.

The water was turned off and the staff approached the frightened children with large blocks of soap and scrubbing brushes. Screaming they were scrubbed and lathered, until every inch of their sore bodies were covered with hard soap.

Again the cold-water spray was used to remove the soap. What did it matter if in the course of washing them a finger or two was pushed into them more repeatedly than necessary, or little cocks handled roughly, labia tugged on painfully, or nipples twisted. More than one member of staff smiled now, as they pushed their fingers repeatedly into intimate little places.

“Next group!” Alice shouted out, brandishing the whip she was carrying.

This time the children complied without complaint, much to the disappointment of the lusting audience who’s passions were getting more and more aroused as they watched the ceremony unfold.

As the ceremony progressed, the governors would step in to help the staff abuse the children as they were dried with coarse towels. The governors encouraged their guests who hoped to become patrons, to freely fondle the children in the hope that they would each pay the twenty-five guineas that Alice had requested.

One such group of three men, who had been introduced by Lord Homes, followed the children from the courtyard to the infirmary, where Doctor Stevens and Nurse Bishop were waiting to examine them.

Full examinations would come in due course, but an initial test was needed now to catch any serious infections they might have, especially those that could be transmitted through their sexual activity.

Doctor Jeremy Stevens was in his element as Anne Bishop the head nurse led the children in, one after another, helping them into required position on the edge of the examination couch. Their arms needed to be wrapped around their thighs holding their legs tightly up to their chests, exposing themselves fully to the lustful doctor.

He was then able to use all his senses to verify their sexual health by probing their anuses, vaginas and urethras with his fingers smelling them immediately after insertion and then tasting their flavour.

This was not only a good indication as to their condition but very enjoyable.

A good teacher as well as doctor, Jeremy instructed Nurse Bishop in this special art and took his time much to the children’s annoyance, to thoroughly explain each of the flavours and what could be derived from them medically.

Finally soothing ointments were slowly massaged into their wounds until their skin glowed, bringing warmth and relaxation to their little bodies and they were able to relax and enjoy this special attention for the first time.

Those children, who didn’t need to stay in the infirmary under the watchful eye of the matron, were then sent straight to Patricia Appleyard the seamstress who waited in her rooms, her face flushed as one after another, she took the towels from the naked children to measure them for their little white sailor uniforms. Miss Appleyard enjoyed her job, always saving the inside leg measurement until last, enjoying the child’s humiliation as she knelt in front of them to bring the tape up to the junction of their slender young thighs, brushing against their genitals and never stopping until she was satisfied with their arousal.

All the measurements were then recorded in the journal that made reference to the children’s progress at St Saviour’s. The uniforms were then issued to the children and adjustments made to way they fitted.

No undergarments are allowed at St Saviour’s, which means that the uniforms can be extremely tight fitting and before allowing the children to leave the room she tested their tightness, her rough hands groping around under shorts or kilts until she was completely satisfied. In the hall, before being sent to bed the children were served their first meal, a spread of cold meats and vegetables, fruit and lemonade.

Rachel Jones the cook made sure that they drank plenty of the lemonade, which had been spiced with the clever drugs that James, her son had dispensed.

To the new arrivals, St Saviour’s seemed like a palace. There was hot and cold running water, beds that had mattresses with woollen blankets and it smelt of fresh varnish and paint. There was also wholesome food to keep them healthy and a little sailor uniform for them to wear in the place of their filthy rags.

Alice towered over them, as they sat around the large oak tables that had been arranged facing the dais where the governors and their guests were seated.

Having eaten and then fallen into a drugged stupor, their attention was suddenly brought back to her as she lifted her whip high in the air and then brought it down hard across the governor’s table, filling the hall with a loud crack.

“Children,” Alice smiled. But there was little humour in that smile as she looked into the eyes of every child. “We have taken you from the horrors that befell you. We have rescued you, cleaned you, medically examined you, clothed and now fed you.

Tonight you will sleep in comfortable beds with the promise that we will be here for you tomorrow and the next day.” She said, watching the expressions on the there little faces.

The special drug meant that they were very impressionable; they would strive to obey her and feel pleased with the least remark she might reward them with.

“But after the second day it is up to you,” she told them. “I will only keep those who show they wish to stay, only those who do as they are told, who learn by example and strive to make their betters pleased with them.”

She came down from the dais and walked between the long tables to speak to them, her whip by her side.

“Who wishes to stay?” she asked softly.

Hands shot up and bright, freshly washed faces, looked towards her eagerly.

“Who wishes to make me happy?” she asked.

Children half rose from their seats, trying to make their hand extend beyond that of their competitors. “Me miss, me, me, me.”

Alice smiled, her heart pounding as she thought of all the harsh tests she would put them through to prove their loyalty.

“From tomorrow,” she said, her voice putting an end to their whispers, “you will earn your right to remain here with me. In doing so, you will earn the right to wear different coloured badges on your uniform!” she explained and lifted one up for the children to see.

“It will be a sign of my pleasure and something to be worn with pride,” she told them. Looking around her, Alice saw their faces light up and their eyes twinkle.

She looked back at the dais where the governors and their guests sat and Lord Holmes smiled affectionately at her, nodding his approval. A Little later, his tour of the building complete, Lord Holmes entertained his guests in the boardroom, his easy manner hiding the nervousness he felt within as he offered them a glass of sherry.

He desperately wanted the others on the board of governors to see him succeed.

After all, he was a lord.

Max Hughes, another industrialist took the offered glass of sherry and sipped it before nodding his appreciation. “Nice place you have here Holmes,” he told him.

Richard nodded and smiled. Max, he knew had recently acquired the ancestral home of the Duke of Roxborough. A large country house set in 200 acres of beautiful countryside.

“There’s no space to take them out riding here I’m afraid,” Richard grinned.

Max loved to take his nieces out for riding lessons on his vast country estate, stopping in some isolated spot to better acquaint himself with their growing bodies.

His young nieces had both developed excellent equestrian techniques under his tutelage and they openly enjoyed the feelings in their cunts as their widely parted thighs rubbed and pounded the hard and unforgiving saddles.

“Yes, quite. Still there must be an alternative, as there is nothing quite as enjoyable than to watch a little girl as she masturbates herself in time to the rhythm of a galloping pony,” he grinned.

Richard nodded, his mind racing to think of an alternative. “Perhaps we could install a mechanical pony in the stables that has a specially designed ridged saddle,” he suggested with a large grin.

“The dungeon is still being built, but you can see from the drawings what our plans are,” he said as he encouraged Max and the other two gentlemen to join him at the table where they were laid out.

“And you say we will be able to do anything we like to these children?” Jonathan Brown asked.

He’d come here nervously; well aware of what it would do to his parliamentary career should the press get to know. But as the visit continued, his nervousness faded and he began to see the many possibilities St Saviour’s had to offer.

Now, with the prospect of the endless pleasures to be gained in the dungeons, he only needed confirmation that he wouldn’t be disturbed while enjoying himself.

“Short of killing, amputation or serious disfigurement,” Richard nodded. They’d agreed to that, at least for the patrons. Such limits wouldn’t necessarily apply to the governors; after all they were paying one hundred guineas a year for the privilege.

“Your fee of twenty five guineas a year will entitle you to a single monthly visit of up to twenty four hours and the use of any boys or girls who are available at the time.”

“Some of the children may not be available?” David Vine asked.

“We are hoping to provide an “ownership” scheme, whereby patrons, for a small additional fee, may “purchase” a child and thereafter have a say in how they are educated and used, or abused, whichever they see fit.” Richard explained.

“Now that might be interesting,” David murmured, nodding to himself as he leant over the drawings on the table for a closer look. To have a child believe that he was their true father for example.

Incest added a certain spice, as he and his younger sister had found out.

“So what do you say?” Richard asked then all.

“I’ll get you the full amount tomorrow,” said Max Hughes. “And I will want to know more about this ownership deal too.” He warned Richard with a wink.

“Yes and so will I,” agreed David.

Richard turned to the taller of the men and looked for an answer, growing nervous as he mulled over the offer. ” I suppose bringing my wife would mean paying two lots of fees?” he asked.

Richard nodded and tried to visualise the little woman that Jonathan had married just a couple of years with a whip in her hand, but failed to do so.

“She won’t be out of place will she, she being the only woman amongst us?” Jonathan added. “I doubt it,” Richard told him, thinking of whom Greta Foulds was likely to bring.

It was the following day when Greta Foulds brought her prospective patrons to visit St Saviour’s. There was much resentment and jealously amongst the group as she introduced them to each other, and yet it couldn’t be helped.

These young men and women had once been in her charge and had now grown up and spread their wings, but in every case sort out their strict governess for her guidance and ruthless sexual domination.

Of the ten she had invited, Greta hoped that eight would pay the fee; enough to cover her own fee as well as their own. However, she had a little put aside, so if only seven elected to join, then she would still be able to become a fully-fledged governor.

It was nearly eleven that morning when Alice escorted Greta Foulds and her group up the backstairs to one of St Saviour’s larger dormitories. The new arrivals had been kept separate from the rest of the children and had been allowed to sleep late after their ordeal the night before.

Greta’s group were quietly ushered into the large room, where they were able to watch the matron and her staff as they stirred the children. The children had been made to sleep two to a bed and were completely naked, one of the rules at St Saviour’s.

Removing the blankets from all the beds before commencing, the staff then set about masturbating the children. As they had their genitals roughly manipulated they were encouraged to watch each other and be as vocal as they liked, as they were swiftly brought to orgasm.

“Oh yes! That’s so wicked!” Dorothy Peters gasped; the heiresses face aglow as she watched the children being slowly and methodically masturbated and then sent into the ornately tiled room adjacent to their dormitory, propelled along by a swift smack on their little bottoms.

“That’s nothing. Come and watch this!” Jeremy Worthington urged, as he peered through the observation glass into the hygiene room, where the children were being given their morning enemas and cleansing.

The others rushed forward to peer into the room, which by now was starting to fill with steam. Many of them stared open mouthed in amazement, as staff dressed in long rubber aprons escorted the children to a long polished metal bar that ran the length of the room.

Once positioned over the bar, their ankles were fastened to straps in the floor forcing their legs wide apart over the drains, then their wrists were attached to similar straps on the floor in front of them.

The group collectively held their breath, as greased porcelain enema nozzles were forced into the children’s tender anuses and a powerful jet of hot caster oil forced deep into their colons.

Startled cries drifted through the glass as child after child was thoroughly irrigated and had their anuses cleaned out for later use. With the oil held in by the special mushroom bungs, they then had their genitals washed and roughly abused which brought further cries from the children, much to the amusement of the audience.

Moving from child to child, the swelling in their bellies was roughly tested and the mushroom bungs only realised after ten minutes, forcing them to desperately hold their tortured bottoms closed and run to the ablutions room, passing a very appreciative audience. “I’ll pay, just to watch and participate in that ritual,” Donald O’Conner told Greta, his eyes alight and his trousers showing his obvious pleasure.

“A whipping first would help loosen their colon’s,” whispered Miss Renfrew, a woman who had followed in Greta’s footsteps to become a governess. Over the last few years she had become an authority on colonic irrigation, its effects and its benefits.

Pauline Renfrew itched to use the special dildo shaped nozzles that she had designed especially for children, but had not as yet had the opportunity to try them.

“Perhaps soon she would!” she thought to herself.

“I’d be happy to let you have a closer look at our equipment,” Alice told the young woman, leading them out so they could visit the schoolrooms, infirmary, viewing galleries, private rooms and what was soon to be the infamous dungeons.

While the main schoolrooms were on the ground floor, smaller and more intimate rooms had been decorated as classrooms on the first floor.

Here, in these rooms which would only hold at the most six children, visitors could assume the role of master or mistress and teach the children real lessons in humiliation and pain.

Next to the teacher’s dais, a smaller version of the large whipping horse used for the punishment parades on Friday nights stood bolted to the floor.

Here, a boy or girl could be securely held for a thrashing with their bottoms widely parted and their genitals on full view, only a few feet from the eyes of the other children. Members of the group licked their lips in anticipation, as Alice opened a large cupboard that housed an arsenal of corporal punishment instruments that would be available for them to use should they become patrons.

Frances Bellings face fairly glowed as she picked up one of the special martinet whips to feel its weight and smell the handle. The handle was finished in real leather and shaped like a dildo with a smoothness that told of its repeated use.

She recalled the times when her own bottom was whipped by Miss Foulds with a martinet just like this one, then experiencing the real thrill of watching her little sister being buggered with the handle as a special punishment.

It was at this time that Miss Foulds introduced them to the pleasures of using masturbation, to help take the pain away.

“You’ll join, won’t you?” Greta asked hopefully.

“Oh yes!” Frances nodded. “We’ll have such fun!” she cried, her face glowing even more with her excitement.

They then moved on, down to the ground floor schoolrooms and then down even further into the cellars where the dungeons were still being built. The dungeons rang out to the sounds of men hammering metal rings into the walls, ceiling and floors, while others cut chains to various lengths and fixed wrist, neck and ankle restraints to them. In the corridors were half unpacked crates that held the equipment that was to go in there, black ironwork and dark oak furniture.

Judith Richards stopped to examine the leather restraints. “I could spend days down here,” she confessed. Greta Foulds had given her the privilege of assisting her in the education of her younger brother and cousins.

The memory of holding them down, sitting on their faces and then watching while Miss Foulds tortured their little bottoms and genitals all under the guise of corporal punishment, still brought her to peaks of excitement few women and even fewer men, could match.

Greta smiled and reached for her, stroking her wrists while looking deep into the younger woman’s eyes. “Together again, with a whole host of children to educate,” she murmured excitedly.

“Yes!” Judith agreed.

David was worried. All but one of his prospective patrons had agreed to join and Alice had spoken to him on the matter, suggesting another visit.

There was a light drizzle as they met the man at the main entrance, shaking his hand and welcoming him again to St Saviour’s.

The man, a wealthy farm owner from the West Country who had travelled many days to make this visit nodded pleasantly. “I hope you can change my mind for me,” he admitted. “But at the moment, I can’t see myself paying out twenty five guineas to become a patron.”

“Well, let’s see,” Alice said, liking the man’s honest approach. “Have you seen the newly completed dungeons?” she asked him.

“I haven’t, but then I am not one to see the children exposed to such as that. I am just a simple country lad Miss Marchant,” he admitted.

“Well Mr Cosgrove, have you visited our stables?” she asked.

“I didn’t know that you kept horses?” he told her. “We don’t,” Alice smiled. Alice led the way, explaining that many of the grand houses had stables. “They are often used as a means to get away from the family,” she explained. Crossing the cobbled courtyard, the scene of much entertainment only a few days ago, she guided them into a large musty smelling building.

Fresh straw littered the floor, while off to one side; a couple of bails of straw were stacked providing a platform. In the centre of the stables were trestles that had saddles, stirrups and reins attached to them, waiting for they’re little riders.

On the walls hung a variety of harnesses and other equestrian tackle, none of which would fit a pony let alone a horse, but all of which would fit a child.

“Would you like to see a harness in use?” Alice asked, bringing one down to hold it out so that Mr Cosgrove could get a sense of how it would fit.

The man’s eyes lit up with his excitement as he stared at the special harness.

“May I really? He asked.

“Certainly,” she laughed. “What age, would you like a boy or a girl?”

“Oh, now then. A girl, certainly, a tall but slender one, not yet developed,” he begged.

Alice nodded and excused herself, leaving the two men to wander around the other stables, examining the implements on the walls, the many and varied crops and carriage whips, as well as various black shinning horsetails in different sizes. Alice, returned just a few minutes later with Amy in tow, the little 11 year old who drew so much attention to herself on the day the governors met for the first time. The little girl curtsied and looked timidly about her.

“Take your uniform off,” Alice commanded the child sharply.

Amy didn’t hesitate, as she knew from experience what would happen to her if she disobeyed but looked up adoringly at her mistress, swiftly removing her little sailor’s uniform to stand naked in front of the three adults.

“She’s eager to earn her first badge,” Alice laughed, pushing the child forward so the men could see her better in the light that streamed in from the window in the roof.

“Will she do Mr Cosgrove?” Alice asked, as she turned the child around to show off her lovely round little bottom and smooth hairless cunt.

The man openly stared at the naked girl, a bulge growing in his breeches as his eyes were drawn to the child’s hairless cleft, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he slowly nodded his approval. Alice smiled and held out the special harness, helping the child to climb into it and then tightened all the buckles until each of the leather straps fitted tightly to the contours of her shapely little body.

When done, dark leather straps circled her body leaving her tiny breasts and fledgling vagina exposed. If anything, the dark straps emphasised the smooth pale skin of her pubis, breasts and cute little bottom.

“We have slightly different designs, some more practical than others when it comes to pulling buggies,” Alice explained, as he pushed Amy towards the straw bails picking up one of the many coloured horsetails.

“The children pull buggies?” the man asked breathlessly, as he watched Alice pry Amy’s bottom cheeks apart.

“Oh yes, I’m hoping to have buggy racing competitions, to test the strength of the boys against the girls, when we get enough patrons,” Alice explained, her attention diverted by the tightness of Amy’s virgin anus.

“Would you mind lending a hand Mr Cosgrove?” she asked.

“Jim,” he told her. The bulge in his breeches even more pronounced now as he stepped forward to relieve Alice of having to hold the little girl’s bottom apart.

His hands dwarfed the little bottom cheeks spreading them even further apart, until no crease remained and her anus started to clench and relax.

Without grease, ointment or saliva, Alice positioned the horn shaped ivory tip of the horsetail at the entrance of Amy’s anus.

Pushing the horn firmly into her anus she ignored the child’s screams until it was firmly in place and her anal ring closed fully over the embedded horn.

As an added precaution, a strap was fastened from the tail to the harness she wore, keeping it in place no matter how much the child might try to expel it.

They let her stand, watching her as she panted and winced as the uncomfortable feelings of the embedded horn started to build within her.

“Walk about,” Alice commanded.

Amy’s hesitation brought her a harsh spanking on her already sore bottom and thighs, but it did encourage her to obey.

“We might also have dressage displays too,” Alice grinned. “You certainly know how to weaken a man Miss Marchant!” Jim told her, his eyes never leaving the naked little pony girl as she continued to walk in pain around the stable.

With a chuckle, Alice retrieved a riding crop from the wall and thrashed it down across the child’s lovely rounded little bottom, demanding that she lift her knees higher, hold her head taller and make her tail bob more.

The welts that Alice produced across her bottom, only served to inflame Jim’s passions further and his eyes shone when she made Amy halt in front of him.

“I think you will find her quite moist,” she suggested, flicking the crop to make her part her legs further for him. Gasping, the girl blushed brightly as she edged her feet apart, moving them until her thighs no longer restricted his access to her soft little cunt.

His hands caressed the smooth pale skin of her legs and travelled upwards to cup her fledgling cunt. Amy shook and gasped. His finger ran along the child’s slit only to remerge gleaming with her juices.

Alice smiled. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to be a patron to do anything more,” she sighed.

For a moment it looked like he would lose his temper.

He just laughed and reached into his pocket, paying Alice the twenty five guineas in full to become a patron, before demanding that they both leave him alone with Amy, so he could continue to get to know her better. Alice and David left the stables for some much needed refreshment, satisfied that they had both achieved their goals. David and the other governors had finally got enough patrons and Alice was happy that the much need capital to save St Saviour’s was now in place.

“All in all it had been a enjoyable day,” Alice thought, as she started to plan the development of St Saviour’s and arrange all the clandestine activities that were going to be needed, to keep her paying visitors satisfied.

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