I'm just back from a weekend with Haron and Abel and many old friends. It was Haron's birthday (well, nearly) and Abel had orchestrated a conspiracy to surprise her. This involved tempting her away for 24 hours while a few of us set up the house with all the deckings of a surprise school-themed birthday party: Food, drink, glittery decorations and a most magnificent CAKE, procured by Abel and adorned with a book inscribed "School Rules" and a crook-handled cane. Eventually Haron arrived, most satisfactorily amazed and bemused. Many birthday spankings followed, and lots of other scenes.

Towards the end, EmmaJane (much beaten already), whispered in my ear that she wanted to do a joint scene with me and Abel. "Do you have anything in particular in mind?" I asked. "No," she said. "Surprise me."

So this is what we came up with.

Cast:

Maria, lady's maid to Lady Fortescue: EmmaJane
Sir Henry Fortescue: HH
Mr. Jenkins, the estate manager: Abel

Domestic staff are in short supply these days, and it was a great relief when Jenkins found Maria. At last the graceless Betty could return to her destined role of chambermaid. And though I had heard of the scandal with the under-butler at her previous place, Maria did have experience as a lady's maid. I decided to give her a second chance, and for a year all seemed well.

Well, that is, until Maria failed to appear last Sunday morning, and the skivvy sent to rouse her found her room empty and her valise gone. Gone too were the silver cruets and candlesticks from the dining-room table: in better times the butler would have locked them safely away before retiring, but in these difficult days his post was vacant too. So it fell to the estate manager, Mr. Jenkins, to raise the hue and cry. And the girl did not get far: he found her by the coach-road, where no doubt some accomplice would have come to whisk her away. And there in her valise was the missing silverware.

In the mean time, though, her ladyship had discovered that an emerald brooch was gone, missing from its place in her jewellery box. A valuable heirloom, worn only for fine occasions.

Mr. Jenkins and I conferred and decided on a course of action. The girl would not be easy to replace and the house would be unmanageable without her. Perhaps, even with this lapse, we could make something of her. Once she understood the consequences of such behaviour, she would not offend again. But the emeralds must be returned.

So it was that I stood in my study as Jenkins brought the miscreant in, the great mahogany desk cleared of its clutter. He put her in front of me, her clothes dirty and wet from her trek through the woods, and I took up the questioning.

"Well, Maria. Is this how you repay us for taking you in, for giving you a post when no-one else would have you?"

She tried to look down and away, but I took her chin and forced her face towards me. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you, girl. You could end up in the House of Correction for this, and for a good long time, too. Unless we decide to punish you ourselves, of course."

Her eyes took in the room and the rack of canes by my side. She knew we had the evidence to commit her, and the magistrates would impose any sentence we wished. Hard labour and whippings were the order of the day.

"But the first thing we want, my girl, is the emeralds. Where are Lady Fortescue's emeralds?"

Her eyes widened at that, and she shook her head. "I don't know about the emeralds, Sir. I did take the silver, and I'm sorry for it, but I didn't take the emeralds."

Jenkins and I had considered this possibility, and we knew what we would do. "Very well," I said, "so you have concealed them. But you won't deceive us that easily. You will have to be searched. Take off your clothes, girl. All of them."

She baulked at that. Her hands came up as if to cover herslf, even though she was fully clothed. And then she twisted away, and would have run if Jenkins had not caught her by the shoulders. And then a sharp smack rang out; I didn't even see it, but a handprint appeared across her left cheek.

She understood then. Hesitatingly, she started to remove her clothing, piece by piece. Jenkins took each item from her, checked it over, and folded it carefully upon the sideboard. Twice she hesitated, but proceeded when it became clear that Jenkins would happily strip her himself if would not do it. Eventually she stood before us in nothing but her drawers, blushing and trying to cover her breasts with her hands.

"Hands away, girl. We need to see that you're not hiding anything. And I said all your clothes."

And so at last the drawers came off too. She bent to slide them down, and with Jenkins behind her and me in front, there wasn't much she could do to cover herself. Not from all directions at once.

Jenkins and I exchanged glances. "Well, we don't seem to have found them yet, Mr. Jenkins. I'm afraid you will have to check inside. Over the desk, please, Maria."

She fought us again at that, but what can a slight girl do against two well-built men? Soon we had her in place. I held her hands over her head to stretch her out while Jenkins spread her legs and carried out the inspection. The first inspection, anyway. Though he seemed thorough, the girl wriggled and squirmed enough that he might have missed something. So we exchanged places and I repeated the procedure, to make quite sure.

Yet there was nothing. "Did you hide them somewhere, Maria? Somewhere you could come back for them?" She wouldn't answer. "A touch of the cane, I think, Mr. Jenkins. That should loosen her tongue."

The next few minutes do not bear detailed description. The slashing cane, the writhing bottom, the milk-white skin painted with scarlet lines until all the gaps were filled. And the yelps that turned to pleas as the cane rose and fell. I do not know how many strokes he gave her, but certainly dozen upon dozen.

Yet still she denied it. Still she would not tell us where she had hidden the jewels. I was ready to believe her, but then I lifted her head, to look in her eyes to make sure. And I caught an expression on her face that told a different story. No, she was holding out on us. And, though she had quieted now, this was not to be borne.

So I took my place and laid the cane again along its well-worn path. This time there was nowhere unmarked for it to land: stripes fell over stripes and weals rose where tramlines overlapped. I caned her fast and hard, until eventually her shoulders shook and her cries turned to sobs.

We let her cry for a while, and then lifted her to her feet. She no longer thought to cover herself, and there was no longer any resistance on her tear-streaked face.

“Well, Mr. Jenkins. I believe she may have learnt her lesson. But there is one more place that the emeralds might be. Lock her away for a few days, and have her well purged each night: we shall soon know if she has swallowed them.”