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on the hockey field, with her gloriously formed bouncy bottom bulging out the seat of her bottle green gym knickers iv as she played, and the thought of seeing her with those same knickers pulled right down to bare her bottom for a spanking was enough to leave his cock so hard it ached. It was no surprise that she set such a high value on herself, yet Tiffany felt she was likely to be the cheapest of the four willing girls.
    Tiffany’s best friend, Alice Shelley, could be relied upon to join in. With her pale hair and winsome, delicate figure she was sure to be popular, but she was going to expect her fair share. Christine, smaller still but with a poisonous reputation and a stockbroker father, apparently wouldn’t do it unless she got more money than anybody else. Yet her perfect, haughty face made the idea of watching her get spanked too good to resist. Then there was Emerald Feldkirch, an American girl who seemed to be made of sun, ripe wheat and all things wholesome but, according to Tiffany, was always the first out of her clothes if things got naughty.
    Among the other girls he knew by sight only one really stood out: Ayanna, an Indian girl rumored to be a princess and blessed with a slender figure, a perfect little bottom on long, coltish legs and hair that fell to her ankles when loose. She was always a favorite on the hockey field, particularly as her gym knickers tended to ride up terribly, leaving her scrumptious, nut brown bottom almost entirely exposed, the fabric pulling taut against her pussy and leaving little to the imagination. But it was her air of grave, subconscious superiority that really appealed. To see her spanked would be bliss, although Tiffany had been adamant that she was unavailable.
    The thought was painfully arousing and Peter shut his eyes, trying to banish the images of the five or more beautiful girls undergoing the humiliating spanking regime he and Tiffany had devised. As a fantasy, it would have been powerful. But to know that it was possible actually hurt, and he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed even harder as he struggled to persuade himself that it was both too expensive and too risky.
    â€œBugger!” he swore, pushing his chair back from the desk just as the door opened.
    â€œNo talking during prep,” Ben Thompson informed him, “and definitely no swearing.”
    â€œDry up, Thompson,” Peter responded, although his friend was already smiling and obviously didn’t mean it. “Just because you’re a prefect 3 doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”
    â€œYes it does,” Ben answered. “But never mind that. When do we get to watch Tiff’s again?”
    â€œSoon,” Peter promised.
    â€œHow about a striptease this time?” Ben went on eagerly. “Nice and slow, right down to the bare.”
    â€œThat could be arranged,” Peter admitted. His friend’s near-desperate tone caused such pride and satisfaction to well up inside him that he’d continued speaking without thinking about what he was saying. “How about some of the other Senior St. Monica’s girls too?”
    â€œOther girls?” Ben asked in awe. “Stripping? Hey, you’re pulling my leg. Tiffs is your girlfriend, but nobody …”
    â€œNot stripping,” Peter admitted, hastily pulling back in the face of Ben’s disbelief. “Getting spanked.”
    â€œWhat’s the deal with you and spanking?” Ben asked.
    â€œNothing,” Peter lied. “That’s just what’s happening. Some of the girls are going to be spanked, as a punishment.”
    â€œWhat, and we can watch?” Ben demanded, more awestruck than ever.
    â€œMaybe, if things work out,” Peter went on, telling himself that there was no harm in outlining his idea, and that he could always claim the girls had been pardoned if the group spanking proved impossible to organize.
    â€œHow?” Ben queried.