Twenty minutes after losing her tiny bikini top, Kylie had deftly and smilingly  removed her equally tiny thong , waving it triumphantly around her pretty head a few times before tossing it down to the cheering crowd below to join the rest of her meagre outfit.  This caused even more of a riot this time,  hospitalising two unfortunates and leaving several others bruised and bleeding.  The Colonel,  who was watching from the vantage point of the Rose and Crown's saloon bar window,  chuckled appreciatively.  This really was turning out to be a splendid day!  He thought of Kylie's father and his happiness lessened momentarily, but after all said and done, his was only one vote.

Whether it was the sense of freedom that her first ever experience of outdoor, let alone public, nudity brought her, or the fact of her body's belatedly adjusting to the many sudden temperature changes,  Kylie was really enjoying every minute of it by  this time and she pushed into a mental recess, the knowledge that her father was certainly going to give her the thrashing of her life, and then some, when he returned and heard all about today.

Kylie's daring made the baying crowd yell out for the other two to follow suit.  They kept up a cacophony of sound which after twenty long and noisy minutes, showed no sign of abating.  "Come on darlings, get em off", being the only identifiable words to emerge from the maelstrom of noise.

The other two were reluctant at first, both aware that the welfare of their own tender young bottoms was in peril.   But the onlookers' full-throated persistence bore fruit after a further forty minutes, when Tracy removed her fluorescent top.  She passed it to her boy friend, Dean,  who had just turned up at this time and instructed him to take good care of it as it had cost her a lot of money.  Dean complied leeringly.  He was glad that all his mates could see what a fantastic pair of knockers his beloved possessed!  Thirty minutes later they were to see the rest of her goodies!  As Tracy slipped off her bottom, the conformist Darlene,  not wishing to be   left out,  also bared all.  It was at this point that they became aware of a commotion on the other side of the square.
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"There now, Mrs Jenkinson!  That's about as tight as I can make it!  I always was good at knots.  You can't move an inch in any direction, can you, you poor old dear!  That'll teach you to fool around with me!  I must leave you now - I have to  compete with Dorothy as an attraction - alas, that will be a slight consolation for you, I fear and rather painful for me!  Then I must help out with the water tank and assist generally now that you are all tied up and the Colonel and Uncle seem to have gone missing.  Come with me Beatrice, we can leave this old cow on her own for a couple of minutes - she won't be going anywhere!"

When the two cousins were alone, Julia told Beatrice to fetch Mr Moss, the village barber - or Gentleman's Hair Stylist as he lately and grandiloquently started to call himself.  This gentleman soon arrived, looking distinctly uneasy but his face lightened when Julia merely asked for the loan for an hour or so, of his leather razor strop.  Acting on her instructions, the dutiful Beatrice fashioned a placard which was placed against the wooden screen lately used for the knife throwing act.  It read as follows.

"LEATHER  MY LOVELY BOTTOM! NO BLOW TOO HARD TO TAKE FOR THIS TOUGH COOKIE!  £2.50 PER BLOW PER CHEEK.  ENJOY!"

"There.  I can't have those peasants laying their dirty hands on me.  Even my arse is too good for them to touch!   But they are welcome to use dear Mr Moss's strop on it for an hour or so.  Go and look after Mrs J, my sweet.  I'll take care of this side of things.  As soon as Dorothy tires of having her bum slapped I'll wrap this up and get over to the tank to help out those poor girls.  I'll soon overtake her takings - what with charging so much more and having such a much nicer bottom anyway."

Beatrice looked very doubtful as to her cousin's wisdom, but did as she was told and went over to the Altar, where the collection box was filling up fast, although not as fast as if Julia had been the victim.  Mrs J's nephew, the fraudster travel agent was commiserating with his distressed relative as Beatrice returned to her post as Priestess. "Fuck off sunshine" said Beatrice, whose use of language was far freer than her cousin's, "But leave a fiver behind you before you retire to the Feathers or wherever.  Yes, the Feathers I think - easily the nastiest joint in town, right up your street, arse hole!"

Mr Fenton-Jones complied.  He had always feared Beatrice for some reason. After depositing part of his ill-gotten gains as directed he slunk off, his tail metaphorically between his bandy legs (The poor man had suffered as a child from Rickets)

As she stood by the makeshift altar, the sound of leather falling on sweet tortured flesh began to sound out across the square, drowning out the noise of the much milder slaps which were still being administered to the homely and increasingly pink peasant buttocks of the good Dorothy.  For the first time in the last half hour, Mrs Jenkinson began to feel better.  Her plan had after all worked out after a fashion.  A bird in the hand and all that!

Mr Fenton-Jones's group began to mingle with the townsfolk and take part in the various activities.  Some were particularly taken by the naked Kylie, who was just on the point of being joined in her total exposure by the other two.  Some preferred the sight of the poor Mrs Jenkinson and her attendant Priestess lovely.  A not  inconsiderable number joined the lengthening queue of those anxious to administer cruel chastisement to the still shapely but already badly thrashed bottom of the stoic and ever smiling Julia.

Mr. Cyrus A Parkinson of the great and beautiful city of Vancouver BC was the last person on that memorable day to lay hands on the sore bottom of poor Dorothy, who signified, once his large firm hand had descended with stinging force on that bruised rump, that she had bloody had enough, thanks all the same.

Beatrice saw this (she had been looking out for this and praying that it would happen soon) and ran over to her cousin, who looked mightily relieved.  Sadly for Julia, she had been in the middle of a transaction as Beatrice arrived and felt in honour bound to cater for this one last customer.  To both girls' horror, the said customer,  a large and powerfully built lady, who had long resented her husband's admiration for Julia,  was flourishing a fifty pound note.  She was emphatic that she did NOT want any change!