PROLOGUE

 

The cheerleaders changing room was never a place of cheer - not since Dawn Tyler had taken over the role of head cheerleader. Since that fateful, inevitable day when the club had allowed her father, a Senator, to contribute substantial funds to the club, Dawn Tyler had ruled the cheerleaders with a cane and slipper.

"That was absolute crap," Tyler spat out when the girls had returned to the changing room after the Sunday match, "absolute C.R.A.P." She spelled out the word. "I counted three dropped pompoms and a baton that ended up god knows where. When are you arseholes going to learn to do the job right, or am I going to have to find new recruits?"

"We're doing our best," pleaded Michelle.

"No, you're not. You're taking the piss and letting the side down. Now, are you going to take your punishments or are you walking from the group?" Tyler was already holding the gym slipper in her right hand, patting the palm of her left with the flexible sole of the slipper.

"I'll take my punishment, again," Michelle demurred.

"Okay, bend over, touch your toes."

Michelle obliged. In front of the other four cheerleaders, she bent over. She knew they'd be doing the same in a minute or so and it was best to get this phase of Tyler's unique training out of the way.

"Now, Michelle, you dropped your pompom and you know what the punishment is, don't you?"

"Six on the bare," Michelle muttered. As she did so, she felt Dawn Tyler lift her cheerleader's miniskirt until it uncovered her buttocks. Then she felt her regulation, white knickers being lowered to below her buttocks.

"Count them out and learn your lesson," Tyler's tone of voice was humiliating.

The slipper slapped into Michelle's bare buttocks and as she gasped from the pain she shouted out the word, "one".

Dawn Tyler was a fairly strong, young woman. She wielded the slipper with expert precision, making sure the strokes all landed within a small area of the victim's arse. By the fourth stroke, Michelle's pale buttock flesh had turned bright pink and she was sobbing from the pain.

"Ow," she moaned, "five," as the next stroke added more fire to her rear.

"Yeeoow, six," she howled a minute later as the final stroke caressed her burning buttocks, ensuring she would not sit down for some while to come.

"Stand up and go and stand over there," Dawn Tyler ordered her. "I haven't finished with you yet, but I have others to attend to first." As Michelle stood up painfully, Dawn turned her attention to the next victim. "Cassy, you dropped your pompom too."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. I'll go and get the video if you want."

"Okay, so I dropped the stupid thing."

"This means you either have to accept the punishment or leave our happy tribe."

"I wouldn't call your dictatorship a happy one, but I don't want to be humiliated by being out of the group so I'll bend over and take what's coming."

"In your case it will be twelve strokes, six for the pompom and another six for calling me a dictator."

"Shit hole," Cassandra muttered.

"Any more talk like that and you won't be able to walk for a week. Now, bend over."

Cassandra stepped forward, bent over and waited for her mini skirt to be lifted up from her buttocks. Then she felt her knickers being lowered, her pale buttocks exposed for the other cheerleaders to see.

"Count the strokes, please."

The strokes started to land, each one adding fire to a rapidly reddening rear-end.

Next door, the team were changing. They heard the by-now familiar shrieks of the hapless girls as Dawn Tyler administered her special form of training.

"Seems like Dawn's upset again today," said Brad, one of the forwards.

"Always is, isn't she. I'd say it's about time someone gave her a dose of her own medicine." Chuck was a back, a strong man who knew Dawn Tyler's reputation well.

"It's in hand." Ramaan was another back, of Arab descent and he too had experienced some of Tyler's charm.

The shrieks of the girls next door, as their bottoms took the full heat of the slipper, continued for some minutes until Dawn Tyler had punished all the miscreants. Then silence fell on the changing room.

In the cheerleaders changing room, the four girls who had been punished, stood facing their leader. Their knickers were at knee height but their modesty was preserved as their miniskirts had fallen back into place.

"Turn round and face the wall." Dawn Tyler had not finished yet.

The four girls, all in their late teens, did as they were told.

"Now, raise your skirts on either side with both hands."

The skirts were raised.

"Stand still with your feet two feet apart." Tyler relished the power she had over them. She knew they'd do anything to stay in the team and enjoy the admiration of their jealous peer group.

The feet shuffled apart to the required distance.

"Excellent, four bright red bottoms. Now, I am going to give each of you a damn good caning, one stroke at a time in sequence. You will learn to do the routines properly. The first one of you to step out of position or drop your skirt will be out of the team. You can shout, cry and scream, but no foul words. I'm going to start with you, Carly."

The junior cane was whistling through the air even as Dawn spoke the final words. It cracked into Carly's bright red buttocks leaving an even brighter, red welt mark where it landed. Carly howled loudly but managed to stay in position.

The same happened a few moments later when Michelle felt the sting of the cane as it whipped across her tender buttocks. She too howled at the pain. Cassandra and then Daphne followed suit, each of them howling from the ferocity of the pain.

Then Dawn started on Carl again, the second round of torture being delivered to buttocks that would now not be able to be sat upon for some days.

On the fourth round of strokes, Daphne, a pretty, long-legged blonde of nineteen years, could take no more. As the cane landed, she dropped her skirt and, crying loudly, rushed from the changing rooms.

"Okay, Daphne leaves us as of today. Anyone else want to go with her?"

Silence greeted the question.

"Right, that's enough for today. Don't forget training on Wednesday, and don't be late. Now, go and get showered."

Dawn Tyler was first in the showers while the others tried to rub the heat from their sore buttocks.

"It's in hand." Ramaan repeated to Brad, Chuck and Greg as they left their changing room and saw Daphne sobbing in the far corner of the corridor. Ramaan went to comfort her, all too aware what her problem was.

 

 

CHAPTER 1

 

Ronnie Davenport, otherwise known as "The Crusher", looked out of the bedroom window of the ranch where he was staying. The stables were away to the left of him and the swept driveway directly below him. Carefully tended gardens lined the gravel track leading from the driveway down to the security gates that protected the property from the public road beyond. It was a warm, sunny day and Ronnie smiled cruelly to himself as he considered what was going to take place in a very few hours.

He'd already had breakfast brought to his room by one of the maidservants. She was a pretty young woman, about eighteen or nineteen years old and, like all the staff, she was of Arabic descent.

Ronnie considered himself honoured that Sheik Khalim Resanta had considered him for the task ahead and was suitably impressed both by the hospitality and the facilities afforded him over the previous two days as he had made his preparations.

"She is a white girl and she needs to be brought down a peg or two," was how the Sheik had described the young woman when Ronnie had first met him. "She is making the lives of many people miserable and she needs to be taught a lesson. I understand from a friend that you are able to teach people lessons like this."

Ronnie had to agree with him. His nickname was not a result of what he did with his knuckles or anything to do with the boxing or wrestling rings. Rather, Ronnie specialised in crushing his victims in other ways as they learned their lessons.

Then, Ronnie had met the Sheik's young prodigy. Ramaan was a fine looking young man, strongly built with a great sense of family duty. He was away at College most of the time and rapidly gaining a reputation as a quarterback. Okay, the Sheik had to admit, he wasn't yet top-flight material but as a first year he was doing okay.

The story had unfolded that one of the cheerleaders, Dawn Tyler, was a prick tease. She was a second year student and had given the come on to the four first years in the team. On each occasion she had lured, teased and then dropped the hapless players, laughing to her friends that they simply "weren't up to scratch". It soon transpired, as Ronnie listened to Ramaan one weekend at the ranch, that this particular young woman was a spoilt brat who had imposed herself as the leader of the cheerleaders. She had an air of superiority that was commensurate with her father's position as a Senator, and she loved to lord it over the other cheerleaders as well as take advantage of the players with her teasing.

Finally the young men she had spurned decided enough was enough. The young Tyler needed to be taught a lesson in etiquette and so the plan was hatched. Ramaan, a few weeks previously, told her a little about his background and when he found out she loved horse riding he suggested she came back to the ranch with him one weekend to spend some time in the saddle. She readily agreed, believing she would control the weekend's event, leaving her with more to gloat over to her friends the following week.

Now, the young Tyler had taken great delight as the cheerleader pack's leader, in whipping the young ladies into shape. Being a member of the group was considered an honour and she quickly introduced a disciplinary system designed to make the young cheerleaders work hard at their skills. On several occasions the players had been changing after a game when they heard the swish of a cane followed by howls of pain from the cheerleader's dressing room. It was evident the young Tyler relished her position of power and she exercised a good deal of painful control on the other group members. On many occasions the young ladies would be seen after a match with their hands rubbing their buttocks, buttocks that burned brightly beneath their skirts or cut-offs.

The upright Ramaan had asked his father for help - help that would ensure all those who had fallen prey to the young Tyler would see her get her comeuppance. So it was arranged - the three other players who'd been teased and goaded by the young bitch were invited to the ranch along with the three young ladies who had all received punishment at the hands of the group leader. This was to be a weekend of punishment and a weekend when all the wrongs of the past two terms at college were to be put right.

Ronnie, "The Crusher" was ready. The guests would start arriving through the early afternoon and then Ramaan and Tyler would turn up in the evening. Little did she know what lay in store for her but one thing Ronnie knew, she would go away from the weekend a changed woman.

The parade ring, a small, indoor arena, had been set aside for the main show. In it, Ronnie had had set up his equipment - everything he would need to exact the punishment he had been asked to deliver. After breakfast he went to the arena to check it one more time. The guest seats were all in place and the equipment stood ready. Checking the equipment one final time, he left the arena and nodded politely to the large, tall Arab standing by the doorway. No one would enter the arena until the hour of the first show.

Ronnie "The Crusher" smiled to himself as he wandered around the building. Five minutes later he was in the indoor swimming pool, swimming idly as he wiled away the hours until the guests would arrive. He still had the interviews to do - it was all part of the exercise and something he would be paid handsomely for.

 

***

 

At two thirty the first of the guests arrived. Carly and Michelle arrived together and with a degree of awe were shown to their room by one of the housemaids. Five minutes later, Ronnie knocked on their door.

"Come in," one of the young women called out in response.

"Hi, I'm Ronnie. You are..."

"I'm Michelle and this is Carly."

"Hi. Now, you know who I am and what we're here for this weekend. Are you looking forward to it?"

"We sure are, Mr Davenport. That bitch has whacked me so many times in the last few months I swear she's scarred me for life."

"I see. I have to ask you though, if she is so brutal, why do you girls stand for it? Why not simply walk out of the group?"

"Because her Dad's a Senator and he puts up a lot of money each year to keep the club going. Not only that but being a cheerleader carries a lot of prestige and you get to meet some really swell people. So, taking a caning every now and again is kind of worth it for the rewards."

"I see, but you obviously feel Miss Tyler has gone too far."

"Yeah. Look, take a look at my buns. They're crossed with the marks from her cane. When she uses the paddle or tawse they don't leave marks so much but the cane is really vicious." Carly had been sitting on the edge of her bed but now she stood up, turned round, lifted her skirts and let Ronnie see the marks on her buttock cheeks. They were, Ronnie recognised, marks made by a thin cane that had been used with some considerable force.

"When were they delivered?" He asked thoughtfully.

"Two weeks ago, the last lot, but I've been caned or paddled virtually every week this term and quite a lot last term too."

"And you?" Ronnie turned his attention to Michelle. She was wearing cut-offs and was trying to peel them off to show off her own marks.

"Ooohhh," Ronnie let out a low whistle. "I see why you're standing. I'll bet they were only delivered yesterday or the day before."

"Yeah, Thursday night at training. I dropped a pompom in mid-session and afterwards she gave me twelve with the cane. They're not so painful now, really. So, what have you got in mind for this weekend? Ramaan said it would be quite a show and as we know who he's invited down we know what the star attraction is going to be."

"That you will have to wait and see. Now, his Excellence the Sheik has a fine ranch and he wants you to enjoy his hospitality while you are here. If you wish to go riding, you only have to ask. Also there is a gymnasium with sauna, a swimming pool which I can vouch for and there is a pool or snooker room somewhere around. The household staff are very friendly and if you want to go riding, one of the stable boys will accompany you around the estate."

"Wow, Ramaan said this would be a pleasant weekend and he's not wrong. I fancy the pool - what about you Carly?"

The young ladies had covered their backsides once Ronnie had seen the punishment marks. He left them to get ready for their afternoon wandering round the estate. As he did so, a second car purred up the driveway. From the driver's seat emerged a tall, lithe, dark-haired woman of about nineteen. She lifted the sunglasses onto the top of her head, looked round with a degree of surprise written on her face and was about to extract her weekend case from the back seat when a smartly dressed Arab servant appeared from nowhere and fussed over her, eventually carrying her case for her and leading her into the house.

Again, Ronnie waited until the woman had been shown to her room before he introduced himself. Introductions over, the raven-haired Cassandra explained to him the catalogue of punishment she had received at the hands of Tyler. She chose not to reveal evidence of her most recent caning but it was evident from the way she sat on the edge of the bed that she was in some form of discomfort.

Ronnie explained the facilities at her disposal and mentioned that her two cheerleader friends had already arrived. It wasn't long before Greg, Brad and Chuck arrived, all in one car. They too seemed surprised at the size of the ranch and the luxury of its appointment. They had never seen Ramaan as an extremely wealthy young man. He was certainly not arrogant nor showy or pretentious, unlike many who had great wealth at their disposal. The three footballers met "The Crusher" in the hallway. Davenport looked at the three muscular men and wondered why they had not simply sorted out the arrogant bitch themselves.

"After all," he said, "any one of you is stronger than she is. Why not simply take her over your knee and give her the spanking she deserves?"

"Because," Brad ventured, "her Dad funds the team. We're all on scholarships and we know if his darling, precocious daughter says anything against us we'd have the choice of either leaving college without our degrees or Daddy would stop funding the team - meaning we'd also be out of college. So, we've basically become her playthings - we're there at her beck and call and she can treat us anyway she wants. One lad did stand up to her last year. He's now working at a fast food joint on the edge of town with no prospects. These rich people are like that - they want everything their own way."

"I see, Brad, but what makes you think she won't go to Daddy after this weekend?"

"Because we think you will drive the fear of God into her and she won't dare say a cross word, or do anything horrible again." Chuck had been planning his answer to such a question for some time. It was evident that the three young men each looked to "The Crusher" for a solution to their problems, a solution which would stop them being the laughing stock round campus for being a bunch of kids afraid of a young woman - albeit a young woman who had incredible influence and power over those she fraternised with.

"Well, there can be no guarantees. I will do what I can and I assure you she will suffer a lot, but who knows what strength of spirit she has. I don't know for sure I can break her spirit but I will try. I will also expect each of you to assist me as necessary."

"Of course. Ramaan said there would be involvement. What about the others he's invited?"

"They will also have their chances. Now ..." and Ronnie went on to explain the facilities and hospitality available before leaving the three footballers to their own devices.

The guests were assembled. It now remained only for Ramaan and the star guest to arrive - something that had been meticulously planned. Indeed, everything about the weekend had been ordered and carefully decided upon. At six o'clock the six guests met "The Crusher" and their host, Sheik Khalim Resanta, in the dining room. They were served a meal of prawns on a bed of lettuce, followed by steak and vegetables and then a fruit sorbet for dessert. Wine and then Brandy was served in generous proportions. Finally, when the guests had thanked their host, he stood and addressed them.

"You are all most welcome in my house. Any friend of my son is welcome here. Now, Mr Davenport has been invited to join us to bring us the main entertainment for this evening and tomorrow. I am well aware of the suffering you have all gone through - especially the young ladies - and the humiliation suffered by you young men. I hope this weekend will be the point at which you will all be able to put the past behind you and look forward to a brighter future. Mr Davenport, I believe you have some plans for us to follow?" The Sheik smiled benignly at "The Crusher" as he spoke.

"Thank you, your Excellence. Firstly, may I thank you on behalf of us all for your kind hospitality and for the facilities you have afforded us. Now, your son, Ramaan will be arriving in a little over half an hour and he will take Dawn Tyler to the arena as planned. She will not know what is going to happen and the auditorium will be in darkness. With your son's help I will be introduced and we will take the woman captive. Only when she is prepared will she come to see the full horror of her demise. For this to work properly you must all be in the auditorium at the back where she will not be able to see you. Please remain quiet as well. None of you has a cough or cold at the moment, do you?" Ronnie Davenport looked around the table but got no response from the spellbound guests.

"When you are announced, which will be one at a time, you are permitted to come out of the shadows and follow the instructions I will give you at the time. Please do so without question and without delay. I will take full responsibility for what happens in the arena - all you have to do is what I ask of you. All is in readiness as you will see in a few minutes. When you go into the arena, please touch nothing. Now, are there any questions?"

"Err, Mr Davenport," Carly looked nervous, "what exactly is going to happen?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, Carly. All will be revealed but let us just say it is a night the little madam will not forget for the rest of her life. Anyone else?"

Again, Davenport looked around the room but it was evident the guests were either still surprised at what they imagined might be about to happen or they were just so looking forward to revenge that they couldn't wait to get started.

"In which case," said Davenport evenly, "I suggest you all leave this room and make your way over to the arena. Please be there within the next fifteen minutes to be sure we are all in place before the star attraction arrives." Davenport smiled, bowed with deference to his host and led the exodus from the dining room. The Sheik waited until his guests had parted, clapped his hands for attention from one of the butlers, spoke swiftly in Arabic to him and then stood up to leave the room.

While the guests had been dining, Ramaan had picked up the bitch, Dawn Tyler, from her college dorm. Ramaan was never ostentatious and the car he drove, whilst large, was also ten years old. The evening was warm and the windows were wound down as they left the town on the highway. Ramaan was a considerate driver, observed the speed limits and sat attentively behind the steering wheel, making only small talk as he concentrated on the road. Once on the highway he became more conversational and, to the haughty Tyler, there was absolutely no indication anything was about to happen.

"Daddy bought me my first pony when I was six. I fell in love with him at first sight. Dapple lasted four years until I grew too big for him, then we sold him to some other little girl in the neighbourhood." Dawn replied in answer to Ramaan's question on how she got into horses. "Of course, I couldn't jump with him at that age but my next pony, Blossom, was a bit bigger and I started to learn how to jump. I got into a few competitions and then I started to win some of them too, so Daddy bought me a proper horse. Actually, he bought me two. So, Ramaan darling, I've been involved with horses all my life. How did you get into them?"

"Well, I'm not really into them, not like you are. Father owns stables and keeps race horses. Perhaps you've come across the Resanta stables or name."

"No, but then I'm not into racing - just show-jumping, dressage and cross country."

"Oh, I see."

The conversation continued politely and at some point Ramaan offered to show Tyler the training arena at the ranch when they arrived. She agreed readily enough, unaware of the events that lay ahead of her.

Keeping a careful eye on his watch, Ramaan pulled off the highway at a petrol station, filled the car and bought a couple of sodas. He handed one to the woman and popped the other for himself. As he sipped the drink he could not help but admire the rare beauty of the woman beside him. Senator's daughter, or not, she was attractive. Ramaan secretly hoped after the weekend her attitude would change and that she would start to see him in a different light - one he hoped would lead to a lasting relationship. It was after all, he had told himself, all being done for her own good.

"Ramaan, sweetie, don't you think we should be getting on?" There it was - the condescending tone of voice, the arrogant supremacy, the voice of command that liked to be in charge, lording it over the minions in her power. Yet, Ramaan knew, his friends and he had been busy and now they almost had the bitch just where they wanted her. It was almost time to see if she was as tough as she made herself out to be. It was time to see if she could take things as well as she could hand them out to others.

Ramaan finished his soda and started the engine.