.“Are you all right, Deborah? I hope that wasn’t too unpleasant.”

“No, no, that was … fine.” Debs glanced quickly at me. “It was interesting.”

Therese smiled. “Yes, I always find it interesting. Sometimes I think I could whip this girl all day, and just study her. She’s so good when she’s being whipped, and so provoking when she isn’t. So it’s good for her. Isn’t it, Emma?”

Emma, her bottom still glowing redly and still presented, said to her tabletop, “Yes ma’am.” The tone was carefully respectful, but she already sounded more recovered than I’d have thought possible. But her whipping was over and she’d been much admired during it. She liked admiration. Emma could be certain that at least two of us desired her, and she’d possibly won the determinedly heterosexual Debs as well. She had reasons to be cheerful. And this was comedy.

“That’s right, dear. Now Deborah, would you like more wine? I see. Anything?”

“I’m … fine. Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Deborah. It was good of you to witness Emma being dealt with. It helps her to remember to behave. Emma.”

“Ma’am?”

“Get down, girl, and kneel at my feet.”

Emma stood, wincing a little as she straightened. Some of her stripes must still be active, still busy delivering pain. Still with her back to us she hitched up the little red skirt, which had threatened to come untucked and provide some cover. Therese smacked her thigh quickly. “Just take that ridiculous skirt off.”

Emma turned to face us and tugged the skirt down over her waist, gasping a little when the waistband pulled down her bottom, then wriggled free. Naked, she stepped out of the skirt, folded it neatly and put in on the table. Then she dropped to her knees. She was beside Therese, but her eyes, breasts and buttercup pubic patch all pointed at Debs.

“Now thank Debs for witnessing your lesson. Properly.”

Emma put her hands on her bottom, which was perhaps soothing, but it did display her very appealingly. All of this was ritual; or if it wasn’t exactly that, it was practiced. They’d done this before. We two, Debs and I, were the ones who didn’t know the steps.

“Thank you, Deborah, for witnessing my punishment. I’m very sorry to have put you to the trouble.”

“Properly.”

“Yes ma’am. And, Deborah, if you’d like me to serve you in any way, I’d be very … honoured.”

Debs said, “Oh god.” I was surprised. I’d expected an instant refusal. It had been obvious where this was going. Debs sounded as if she was considering it.

Emma smiled. “I could please you here. Or we could go to the bedroom, to be in private. Would you like that?”

Debs was silent, and Therese uncharacteristically misread the moment. “She’s very skilled, Deborah, and very passionate. Emma, you’ll bring Deborah your hairbrush, so she can keep you focused.”

So Debs said, “Oh no. No, I mean, thank you Emma. And, ah, Therese. But no. It’s all right. I won’t. Thank you. Thank you both.”

And so Emma looked at Therese, and then at me.

Therese said, “Yes, now thank him, girl. Properly.”

[To be continued.]