A spring breeze came up from the meadow and rustled the trees along the edge of the garden. This set a small cascade of white petals to rain onto the lawn like snow. Or at least that was how it seemed to Ruth standing on the terrace at the back of Hedley Hall. She sighed.

But there was something else on the wind and with no one to see her she stood arms and legs akimbo as if bracing herself against a storm. Her white cotton gown clung to her limbs and several strands of light brown hair escaped her bonnet. But Ruth cast her bright blue eyes and delicate nostrils wide and opened to the world. The scent was seasonally sweet, but that wasn’t it. This was the wind of change and she felt her life at Hedley was coming to an end.

“Whatever are you doing?” Aunt Edwina said sharply.

Ruth whirled around with a start and a blush to confront her fusty old aunt carrying the tea tray. It was unusual to see Edwina doing such menial tasks, but then Ruth remembered that Milly had a head cold and that the other one… the new girl must have gone to the village by this time.

“Young women do not adopt such postures in polite society,” he aunt continued absently, her attention more on the tea and dusting stray biscuit crumbs from her old-fashioned blue dress.

“No auntie,” Ruth said quickly while adjusting her pose.

But Aunt Edwina was no longer listening and as she stooped to put the tray down on the garden table her high-piled dome of hair wobbled, but not a strand broke free. Never was the façade to be broken.

Ruth frowned at the stifling formality her aunt represented. The young woman had little idea what polite society was exactly, society as far as she was concerned existed in London somewhere, not in the more forgotten fringes of Hampshire. But things were certainly changing. The old queen was dead and the Barton’s across the way even had a motor car. So maybe society would find its way to Hedley too. But Ruth hoped not, society sounded dreadful.

Perhaps Ruth had spoken aloud for Edwina said disapprovingly, “Tommy Barton makes the devil of a noise with that infernal vehicle of his; I just don’t see the point.”

Ruth tended to agree, but she would never say so. A horse was both faster and more elegant than a stupid old motorcar.

“But at least he is not as bad as that older brother of his,” Edwina added with a sigh. “They say such scandalous things about him. Did you know that he turned 30 last year and he isn’t even married, or likely to be?”

As far as Aunt Edwina was concerned the world was divided into two camps: the married and the marriageable. Anyone outside of this just wasn’t part of society.

But Ruth had stopped listening. So James Barton was back was he? She allowed her teeth to trouble her lower lip as she had when scheming as a girl. Old thoughts and fancies tumbled into her mind and she leant back against the wall and looked up at the sky with the dreamiest look on her face.

“Ruth? Ruth…?” Aunt Edwina repeated in some consternation.

But Ruth still wasn’t listening.

*

James Barton looked conventional enough in his grey broad-lapel suit. He had even worn the kind of hat Ruth’s uncle wore for church, not that he wasn’t handsome. However Ruth was disappointed, she had expected someone more devilish not a man with all the style of a banker.

Tommy of course was more garishly attired in a broad-striped blazer and boater. The pale green and maroon bands clashed, or so Ruth thought, but that did not put Maud off making cow-eyes at him.

Maud was Ruth’s friend from the village, a mousey girl in a pale lime dress, an absolute requirement if Ruth was going to get her aunt’s approval to invite the Barton men over for tea. But Maud required no encouragement, not with Tommy Barton to make eyes at.

Tommy appreciated the attention and was happy to play the clown while Maud giggled at his every joke and foolish jape. This was an ongoing exchange that caused Ruth to roll her eyes and make impatient little puffing sounds as she loudly broke into the couple’s banter to press yet more tea and cake upon them.

James was another matter entirely. He was taller than his brother and had the solid physical build that comes with maturity. Not that he was aloof. Rather he stood back making pithy witticisms as the younger people conversed.

“I sense that you are far too sensible for such foolishness,” he said to Ruth suddenly.

Ruth caught her breath and fixed her attention of the steady reddish-brown stream of tea glugging into the cup. Sensing James’s gaze she held her eyes averted, but a heavy blush gave her away.

“I do rather,” she blurted, what? Do rather, what am I saying? She added hastily, “I mean, yes I do think it foolish, not that I…”

“I would have thought you married at your age,” James cut her off. “I mean that is what they do around here?”

“Here?” Ruth said suddenly interested.

“Here in society.” James gestured to the house and garden.

“This is hardly society,” Ruth snorted, but she sensed that James Barton shared her disdain of convention.

Just then Tommy and Maud laughed raucously and appeared to have started a game of patty-cake.

“Perhaps you would care for a turn of the garden Mr Barton?” Ruth said more sharply than she meant as she glared at the others.

“What without a chaperon?” James said in mock horror, “Isn’t that rather daring for Hampshire?”

“Oh I think we might risk it,” Ruth said cuttingly, “This is after all the 20^th century.”

She didn’t mind his disdain of society or his cutting wit. But she did hate the idea that he included her in notions of society and her aunt’s stilted world.

“Very well then, on your head be it,” James said in an amused voice as he offered Ruth his arm.

“You spoke of marriage,” Ruth said lightly as she took it. “I am scarce 21, not quite the old maid yet. And anyway I would have thought a man such as you would have no care for such things.”

They had reached the corner of the house where the gravel path cut left out of sight of the others and James glanced back at them as if considering.

“A man such as I? Why what have you heard?” James asked, but his casual smile had faded.

“Only that… well you must admit that you are bit of a scandal around here,” Ruth said, but she sensed that she had touched a nerve.

“I do as I please and do not give a fig for so-called reputation,” he said, still holding them at a pause within sight of the others. “Aren’t you afraid for yours?”

“No,” Ruth said defiantly and she smiled at him warmly.

James nodded and patted her arm and then boldly led her around the corner and into the shadow aspect of the house and onto the gravel path that led to the far side of the garden.

“Perhaps you can tell me what you have heard,” James said as they moved out of sight of Tommy and Maud.

*

James listened indulgently while a wide-eyed Ruth gushed about the whispered scandal, half-truths and gossip she had heard concerning the Barton family’s black sheep of a son. It seemed to him that his life to date had been far more interesting than even he had suspected. The faux horrified Ruth seemed to have drunk in every detail and now recounted her version of events like a tale in a penny dreadful.

So earnest was Ruth’s recounting that it was almost as if she had forgotten that the subject of her story was also her listener. He let his eye take in her gentle beauty and the feminine curves that belied her somewhat strident tomboyish demeanour.

They had strayed beyond the house by now and onto the sunny openness of the back lawn. Ahead was the white painted summer house and away to their left the old orangery and the shaded love-seat under the arbour. Beyond the summer house were the woods and the edge of the grounds that led to the pond.

James had intended to take the girl onwards to that spot, but if Ruth had such a dire picture of him then what would the villagers think? No to be seen with him in public would do the girl no favours. Instead he guided her gently towards the orangery to where he guessed the path led around the house and back to where his brother and the giddy Maud still frolicked.

“Tell me,” he chuckled, “Did you also hear of my visits to courtesans and worldly ladies in Paris?”

Ruth paused in mid-flow and sized the man up for a hint of mockery. Surely he was joking, she thought, but the very idea of sexual scandal atop of all else thrilled her deeply. She shook her head dumbly and blushed.

“Just as well,” he laughed.

Ruth frowned, she felt patronised now.

“No, not that, but is it true that you swindled the Sultan of Timbuctoo out of…?” she said archly, hoping to impress him with the extent of her worldliness.

James stiffened and made a half turn to face her.

“You think me a thief?” he growled.

Ruth became puzzled, how could he…? Surely the other things were worse than defrauding some ignorant native somewhere? She was still pondering his changed mood when his grip tightened on her arm and he led her more swiftly to the love seat by the orangery wall.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” she gasped as she tottered along in his train.

“Young lady I think you need a sound and prolonged lesson in manners,” he said sternly.

“What did I say?” she wailed, still not clear about what was happening.

“You casually and brazenly announced that I was a liar, a cheat and a thief,” he said incredulously, “And for your information there is no Sultan of Timbuctoo, although I have been there, for heaven’s sake, you people…”

“Mr Barton, please, what are you doing?” Ruth spluttered.

As she spoke they reached the stone seat and she found herself tumbled without ceremony across James’s lap.

“I am going to give you a good sound spanking on your very bare little bottom,” he snarled.

The threat thrilled her but that did not help her with the consternation or panic. James Barton was proving very dangerous indeed and not at all polite. Luckily she did not quite believe him, or didn’t until she felt her skirts and underskirts rucked up behind.

“Mr Barton,” she squealed.

The man was an expert it seemed, for what had taken her several minutes with help to achieve, he undid in a moment and a beat later she felt a tug on her draws.

Ruth clamped her hands to her face as if to hide from the shameful exposure. Only the spring chill on her nether parts challenged the idea that the ruse was in any way a success.

“So I am a thief am I?” James snapped at her.

The twin domes of her pale bottom were revealed to him now and he was surprised at the sizable pert prominence adorning such a slight girl. This was a dangerous sport and for a moment he felt sorry for her. Honour demanded that he pay her out thoroughly and end their budding friendship. For her sake he hoped she would leave it at that and not set up a hue a cry after, but that was her choice, this was his.

“You little brat,” he spat as his hand landed sharply with a tight crack.

“Ooh,” Ruth squealed and made futile little kicks with her feet.

The first spank sang a song of nippy little tingles in her seat and she would have clenched had she not be held over half bent. The second stung her more sharply as did the third and then things rapidly became difficult.

“Mr Barton please,” she gasped, “I am sorry for what I said, truly I am.”

But James had just begun and in rapid slaps he delivered half a hundred spanks in barely a minute. Nor did he spare his arm and twice that time Ruth’s bare bottom was quite red and mottled over with tight buds of gooseflesh and purple swirls.

“Ow-oooh-ooh-oooh-eeee,” she shrieked or something near. Her diary entry later that day was even more expressive. “I’m… I’m sorry….”

“I bet you are,” James barked and began another minutes worth of spanking.

“Ruth, Ruth what’s that noise?” said an imperious voice.

Aunt Edwina sounded close by.

“Is that applause I hear?” the puzzled woman continued.

Satisfied, James set Ruth quickly on her feet where she hastily smoothed down her dress and petticoats. Her draws were half tangled in her ankles and there was no doubt that her face was at least as red as her bottom.

“Oh Ruth, there you are,” Aunt Edwina sighed disapprovingly as she rounded the corner, “What’s wrong with your face? Have you been crying?”

Ruth managed a smile and her posture positively enthused with innocence. Taking a step forwards she quickly kicked her fallen under garment under the bench and wiped her eyes.

“Oh, I eh… a little hay fever I think,” she said quickly. “I was showing Mr Barton the orangery.”

“So I see, well perhaps you had better join us for more tea,” Aunt Edwina said suspiciously and eyed James with a daggered gaze.

Unseen Ruth winced and clawed at her behind and then forced another smile.

“We were just resolving a small matter of dispute,” James said pleasantly.

“Eh yes… Mr Barton has been most instructive… I eh… I feel quite corrected,” Ruth said ruefully, offering James a pout once her aunt’s back was turned.

“Yes well… this way,” her aunt said doubtfully as she led the way back to the respectable tea on the terrace.

*

Despite serious reservations Aunt Edwina had consented to permit Ruth to visit the Barton’s for afternoon tea. After all there was no serious reason not to accept the polite reciprocation James and his brother offered her.

Her fears were assuaged by assurances from Maud’s mother that it was Tommy’s interest in her daughter that was the main incentive for the invitation and that James and Ruth were only required as chaperones.

For her part Ruth had sworn that she never wanted to set eyes on James Barton again and had told him so in a harsh whisper as he had departed on the day of the tea party at her home. But her resolve had not lasted beyond bedtime and even a prolonged inspection of her naked posterior in the mirror had not sustained her anger. After all she had called the man a thief and had probably deserved it. Such men were not to be trifled with. Naked before the glass she shivered, although it wasn’t cold.

Much to her shame it had been necessary to sleep on her tummy, but as she relived the events of the afternoon she had become unaccountably restless. As a precaution against any shameful misunderstandings when the maid changed the bed sheets, she placed a towel under her hips to reduce any stains from excess intimate perspiration. This was a happenstance that often plagued her when she was distracted so by unusual thoughts of the kind she dare not share with even Maud, let alone her aunt.

That night the sheets had so chafed her naked bottom that it had been all that she could do not to fidget and massage herself for some girlish relief. At such times she often thought of boys and handsome men, but never had she dwelt so on such a direct experience. Damn the man if she didn’t sit down again. But why did even that thought…?

“More tea Miss Ruth,” James offered breaking into her thoughts, but it was the maid who stepped forward as if playing mother was beneath him.

Tommy and Maud had already moved onto the tennis courts and were pretending at a competitive game while giggling excessive. For some reason one or the other of them would frequently hit the ball so far from court that they had to scurry away together to retrieve it.

“No thank you Mr Barton,” Ruth said icily, addressing James with a scowl. “I think I need to…” she coughed.

“The powder room for young ladies is at the top of the stairs Miss,” the maid informed her.

Ruth blushed and shot an angry glare at James, but deigned not to notice.

*

The house was grand, much grander than Hedley Hall, and Ruth ascended the ornate gothic staircase in awe. On the walls were huge paintings with the look of the Barton’s about them, some of them wearing wigs dating back to the 17^th century by their style. Ruth felt her family were newcomers by comparison.

But it was not to the powder room she went but along the hall to nose about. After all if Maud was to marry Tommy, as looked likely, then it was her duty as a friend to sniff out any skeletons.

She hadn’t gone far when she spied an open door and seeing a number of books on shelves within she became curious. The library was downstairs, so what was all this?

The bed was mannish, too manly for Tommy, and in any case the style of clothing laid out on the bed was too conservative. So James was a bookish man on the quiet, she pondered.

“I wonder what he is reading?” she muttered as she cast her gaze over the desk under the window.

There were several tomes, both open and closed and they looked like a set. Some research no doubt and she tip-toed over to peek.

The legend Karma Sutra meant nothing to her, nor did the Collected Works of Swinburne, but one of the open books had pictures and she adjusted its angle with her smallest finger.

“Oh gosh,” she exclaimed when she saw the subject.

A naked woman was bending artfully over a divan with a wistful expression. The pose only revealed her bare bottom, but thoughts of her spanking rushed with hot blood to Ruth’s face.

Feverishly she turned over a page to look at another such image. Amid engravings and short passages of text were photographs of naked women. The best ones were of flagellation themes and page after page carried them. The words too were evocative, but Ruth felt too self-conscious to linger.

In a moment of madness she seized up the volume and tucked it into her skirts.

“What are you doing there?” said a stern voice and Ruth froze.

James stood guarding the door to fix her with the gaze of a schoolmaster or magistrate.

“I… I eh…” As she bumbled the book fell from its unsecure seclusion onto the floor with a thud.

“So,” James growled, “Not only a sneak, but a scandalous sneak and a hypocritical one at that,” he said. “On top of that what do we have but a thief?”

“Please I was…” Ruth’s face was peony and her hands wrung as if of the own volition.

“Am I wrong?” James bellowed.

Ruth let her boiling red hot head answer in the positive and knew for certain she would die of shame.

“Are you so determined to wreck your reputation?” he sighed.

She swallowed and dipped her head. What could she say?

“I see,” James said wearily and strode towards her. “You know what happens now.”

Ruth started and with a look of wide-eyed horror she backed away.

“Look you can’t just…”

“Just what? Spank you? We both know that I can,” James growled.

It was more casual than before. This time Ruth was stunned with her shame and she was unresisting. Not that she could. The slight girl was draped easily across James’s firm lap and as before she was quickly unveiled behind until only her draws shielded her modesty.

Then these too went south as James quickly bared her bottom to address it with his palm.

“Tell me you don’t deserve this,” James said sharply, “And I will let you go.”

Ruth’s only answer was a trembled, “Ooh.”

James’s hand stung and the stung her again as he spanked her with gusto. This time she bawled like a pond-dipped kitten as he legs kicked like steam pistons.

“Oh, oh, oh, eeeh, oooh,” she squealed and gasped as her bottom became red.

In short order she was rapidly breathing and then really let rip with some yelling so that it was doubtful that nearby servants or even Tommy and Maud could not hear her.

“This is for playing the sneak,” James told her, “If we are to remain friends we will address the matter of theft another time.”

“What,” Ruth shrieked indignantly.

“Come on, you can’t think that one spanking would attend to your crimes,” James said sternly. His hand hung mid-air as if poised for another strike.

“No… I mean it isn’t that… but friends you say… I thought…” Ruth felt the fool.

“I see, I have spanked your bare bottom and by the rules of polite society now we must be wed?” he said scornfully.

“Polite society go hang, but if you are going to go on spanking me…”

“Oh I’ll do much worse when we’re wed,” he chuckled.

“Wed?” Ruth exclaimed as if she had not first broken cover, “I hardly know you, what do you take me for?”

James gaped in amazement and then angrily restarted the spanking. “Why you…” he barked.

He spanked her for a good 10 or 12 minutes before she began to make choking sounds and began to struggle with it.

“Pax, pax,” she sobbed. “I admit to an understanding then…”

James laughed and gave her sore bottom a pinch. She squealed.

“First you will accept your medicine and then we will talk further,” James told her.

Ruth sniffed and nodded, then allowed herself to be dropped to the floor.

“Meet me in the summer house of Hedley Hall next Sunday morning with a good stout house-brush,” James ordered.

“Yes Sir,” she sniffed ruefully as she made cow eyes at him from the floor while rubbing vigorously at her bottom.

“I warn you, any further misbehaviour on your part and you will become acquainted with a razor strap,” James said manfully as he stood over her with his arms folded.

“Yes Sir,” she gushed.

Oh gosh, she thought, what will become more abused, my sheets or my poor bottom.