Free On the Bare by Fiona Locke

the benefits of such an exercise merely for a peek at a girl’s naked bottom.’
    ‘Angelina,’ my uncle said warningly.
    ‘Oh? And what will you do, Uncle – ask our guest to thrash me for my indiscretion?’ If he didn’t want me to simper and flirt, he shouldn’t inflict suitors on me. To his credit, the captain hadn’t batted an eye.
    Polly appeared very soon to refill the wine glasses, this time before they were empty. It seemed she’d learnt something after all.
    ‘Tell me, Polly,’ I said. ‘Was it awfully painful?’
    A rueful expression flickered across her features. ‘Painful enough, miss.’
    ‘Well, don’t feel too bad. My uncle does drink a lot. It’s a wonder anyone can keep up.’
    ‘Angelina,’ my uncle said under his breath. ‘That will be quite enough.’
    I winked conspiratorially at the captain, but he didn’t seem amused.
    Polly served the crème brulée and when she had gone Captain Hawksley turned to my uncle. ‘I wonder, sir, if I might take your niece up on her offer.’
    I blinked. Offer?
    My uncle nodded slowly, looking at me sternly. ‘Yes, I think that might be salutary.’
    Suddenly, I understood. ‘You will do no such thing!’
    But before I knew it, the captain had come round to my side of the table to help me up from my seat. I backed away, glaring at him. He moved to take my arm and my eyes flashed.
    ‘Take your hands off me!’ I hissed.
    But he reached for my arm again and I slapped his face.
    ‘You, sir, are no gentleman!’
    A look of calm cold fury shone in his eyes and I knew at once my situation was hopeless. He and my uncle each took me by one arm and hauled me across the end of the table where Polly had been whipped. The girl was in the kitchen now, but I was sure she could hear everything. More than that, I was sure she was
listening
.
    I shrieked at the effrontery as they raised my skirts and my petticoats, exposing my drawers.
    ‘Why, Miss Angelina,’ said the captain with exaggerated surprise. ‘I didn’t realise you’d been to Paris.’
    ‘The devil take your tongue, sir! How dare you!’ I turned to my uncle with a pleading look.
    But he only shook his head and offered the crop to Captain Hawksley. ‘I think she should get the same as the maid,’ he said.
    ‘Very good, sir.’
    ‘I will never forgive you for this, Uncle!’ I cried, tears springing to my eyes.
    ‘Or perhaps double?’
    I gasped. Eight strokes! But Sir James wasn’t finished.
    ‘I also think she should count,’ he said, studying my face.
    The humiliation was not to be borne!
    But the villain agreed. ‘Yes, that’s a splendid idea. Miss Angelina? Be so good as to take down your drawers.’
    My cold silence only prompted him to offer to take them down himself. I obeyed hurriedly, trembling with embarrassment and fury.
    ‘Say “Thank you, Captain” after each one, please.’
    Before I could protest again, I heard the now-familiar slicing sound and my bottom came alive with agony. I howled at the pain, the indignity and the unfairness of it all, gasping for breath. The room was silent but for my outraged panting. I drummed my feet on the floor and glared up at my uncle, determined to hate him till the day I died.
    He stared impassively at me and addressed Captain Hawksley. ‘Perhaps you didn’t make your point strongly enough. It seems only to have provoked another tantrum.’
    ‘Pity,’ said the captain, and he immediately brought the crop down even harder.
    The shocking pain tore the very breath from my throat. I froze, staring down the length of the table at the candle flames. They grew blurry as tears of hot shame filled my eyes.
    The captain’s voice startled me out of my misery.
    ‘I trust she felt that one. If not I’ll have to make the next one even harder.’
    ‘Two,’ I said at once. Then I gritted my teeth to steel myself for the rest. ‘Thank you, Captain.’
    ‘No, Miss Angelina,’ he said with mock sympathy. ‘It was not even one, since you did