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it was impossible not to grin as I spread out my cards.
    ‘Four tens.’
    AJ looked slowly up from her cards, her poker face dissolving in horror. She made to speak but thought better of it, limply dropping her cards on to the table, four hearts, which gave her a flush with the ten on the pack . Again her mouth opened, but whatever she wanted to say it couldn’t be said in front of Jemima and I could only shrug in helpless apology.
    ‘I … I’d better do you side by side with Jemima then,’ I managed.
    ‘Who says Jemima’s going to get it?’ Jemima cut in, and she laid out her cards. ‘Four queens beats four tens, I think you’ll find.’
    I turned to her, speechless. She’d won, which meant she was going to leave without taking a punishment at all, unless we carried on playing after I’d beaten AJ, which wasn’t something I was sure I could do. Words came tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop myself.
    ‘You don’t have to take it, if you’d rather not.’
    AJ shook her head.
    ‘I don’t want anyone saying I can’t take what I like to dish out. How many strokes?’
    ‘Um … let me see. We each had ten red chips and … so, um … seventy-two.’
    ‘How do you want me?’ she asked, and stood up.
    She looked absolutely terrifying, and not at all as you’d expect of a girl who was about to take seventy-two cane strokes. Her jacket was open, showing the man’s vest beneath with her small breasts making two neat bumps in the plain, white material, which was tight over her lean, muscular midriff. She was taller than Jemima by several inches, and the muscles of her long, powerful legs showed through the leather of her trousers, an image that made me want to grovel on the floor.
    ‘Well then?’ she demanded.
    I glanced at Pippa for support, but she gave an urgent shake of her head. Jemima just thought it was funny.
    ‘Um … however you like,’ I offered. ‘What would be most comfortable?’
    ‘You’re the one who likes her arse smacked, you tell me.’
    ‘Er … on the bed, lying over a pillow?’
    She shrugged and started for the stairs. I quickly pulled up my knickers and jeans to follow, realised I’d forgotten the cane and had to go back for it. Pippa stayed as she was, unwilling to watch her mistress beaten, but Jemima came with me, giggling in delight. By the time I got upstairs AJ was already in my bedroom, leaning against the window with her arms folded across her chest. I took one of my pillows from the top of my bed and rearranged it in the centre, my fingers shaking as I plumped it up to make sure she’d be as comfortable as possible.
    ‘There we are,’ I told her, and her hand went to the button of her trousers.
    ‘You don’t have to go bare,’ I offered, ‘not if you don’t want to.’
    ‘Shut up, Miss Muffet,’ she answered me, and she pushed her trousers down.
    She had no knickers on, as usual, and I glimpsed the barbed-wire tattoo on her pubic mound before she turned to climb on to the bed, exposing her bottom. I’d licked both, many times, often after punishment, and even as she positioned herself on the bed with her bottom raised by the pillow it was hard to picture her as a suitable recipient for the cane. She’d want her revenge too, I was sure of that, and that it would be both painful and humiliating.
    ‘Get on with it then,’ she ordered, and I realised I’d been holding back.
    I laid the cane across her bottom, lifted it and brought it down with a gentle thwack. She turned her face to look at me.
    ‘Don’t be pathetic, Miss Muffet.’
    Again I applied the cane, this time leaving a faint pink line across the hard swell of her cheeks. She settled her chin on her hands, her face unreadable, and she didn’t speak, which I took to mean that the stroke had been hard enough. I gave her another, and a fourth, slightly harder. Still she failed to react, and my confidence began to build, until with a dozen pink lines decorating her bottom cheeks I was wondering