Who Caned Christine? — The Solution

From Blushes 50, the denouement of the story follows…

John Jordan poured himself a large Scotch, the palm of his right hand still tingling from the explosive hand-spanking of young Jane. She was still in her birthday suit, standing by the front windows, hands on her head, her bottom glowing with the results of his handiwork. Somewhere in the distance, in another room of the large house, the sounds of a second punishment could still be heard. The usual surprised squeals of a cheeky young madam having her bottom smacked. It was perhaps Christine, the silly young thing who was the subject of Jordan’s investigations; or possibly the maid, receiving the first sound smacking of her young life. He opened the door, and looked along the passageway towards the kitchens, waiting for the punishment to cease, or at least to pause for a moment. ‘Charles?’ he called. The young man replied, a little breathlessly. ‘Bring the maid in here, please.’

Jordan knew the maid from his frequent visits to Carleston Hall, but he had never seen her with less than her maid’s outfit around her delightful body. Charles had stripped her before handing out his punishment, and Jordan was very willing to concede that she too was a very pretty young thing. ‘There’s a man in Jane’s room,’ reported Charles, pointing to the maid. ‘Took more than a little spanking to get it out of her.’ The retired policeman nodded. Miss Jane had told him all about her young man, whilst she had been bucking and bouncing around across his knee. ‘Would you care to collect the young fellow, please? He’s probably wondering what all the noise is about, anyway…’ Charles hesitated for a moment, wondering whether Jane’s young man was any taller or larger than himself, but finally fixed a brave smile upon his face and left the room.

Sir James had finally finished dealing with Christine. She stumbled into the room, as naked as the day she was born, her bottom ablaze, and Sir James’ well-worn palm hovering a few inches behind her, encouraging her along. ‘Darned little minx was after my paintings!’ Christine was made to join the other two girls, all three being told to stand facing the wall, their hands on their heads. And while three worried-looking young faces faced the expensive flock wallpaper, three very red and well-tanned female bottoms stood in line, enabling the men to compare their handiwork.

The door opened. Charles had returned, together with a second young man. Sir James opened his mouth, obviously about to demand an explanation. The stranger’s own jaw dropped dramatically when he saw the girls, recognising immediately, the identity of all three naked young figures. Jordan intervened. ‘I suggest we all sit down… except the girls, of course…’ Sir James and his son, Jordan and the stranger gathered around the table, turning their chairs in order to keep the girls in their line of vision. ‘I have the answer to our mystery, Sir James. Though you might need to fill in one or two of the details.’ Charles interrupted. ‘Let’s have a drink…’ He crossed to the cocktail cabinet, and returned with the Scotch and glasses. The old man glowered at him, angrily. ‘Sit down, young man. Let Jordan get on with it!’ And so, Retired Inspector Jordan began his summing up.

‘This young man is Mark Granger. He is a student who met your niece at college. At present he is rather hard up, and short of work; and so he wrote to Miss Jane, seeking her… er… help.’ Sir James looked as though he was about to explode. Jordan continued. ‘Each night for the past three nights, your maid has been told to unlock the front door of the house, after you, Sir James, had locked up for the evening. And immediately after that, she would retire to bed.’

There was a pause while Jordan refilled his glass. Glancing across to the end of the room, three crimson bottoms were still smarting; and they were beginning to twitch again, apprehensively, as the policeman continued his tale. ‘Last night, after your maid had undressed for bed, she left her room in the servants’ quarters, and walked along the passageway towards the front door. But before reaching the door, she was disturbed by noises in the lounge. She saw that the door was open, and she could hear papers being sorted. So she ran back to her room, leaving the front-door locked.’

Sir James drummed his fingers upon the table-top, twisting his large bulk around to stare at the girls. ‘My God, girl! I shall deal with you, later!’ His old friend waited until Sir James’ attention had returned to the narrative of last night’s activities. ‘Of course, it was young Christine in the lounge. She is not a hostess or a travel courier; she works for an art historian, and as you have discovered so expertly yourself, Sir James, she was planning to steal one of your paintings.’ Young Charles hastily poured out an exceptionally large drink, and handed it to the old man, hoping that it would calm his temper. ‘Only one painting was required, and Miss Christine was sent here to find it. She was looking at your insurance documents to make sure she knew where the painting was hung. Her employer knows how much it is worth.’

It was Charles who now interrupted. ‘So, she was in the lounge, rummaging through Sir James’ papers. And the maid had gone back to her room. And this young character is, I suppose, standing outside the front door…’ Jordan nodded. ‘Yes.’ He finally walked around to the back of the house and found the kitchen window open. He retraced his steps back to the front of the house, but just as he was about to climb the stairs to visit Miss Jane, he too heard the noises in the lounge.’

The young man decided to save any further conjecture. ‘Alright. I admit it. You seem to know it all, anyway.’ He grabbed a drink, to give himself a little liquid courage. ‘That maid of yours was trying to blackmail me. She said she might tell someone about me… sleeping with Jane and so on. And she said she might lock me out one night to teach me a lesson. So when I heard those noises, I thought she was hiding in the lounge. I saw a feather duster in the umbrella rack, so I pulled off the feather end, went into the lounge and decided to teach her a lesson.’

Jordan sat back. ‘Go on.’ In the corner of the room, three worried girls wished that nothing more could be said, already realising that the truth was out. ‘I saw her bending over the table, staring at some papers. She was cutting open an envelope with a small pair of scissors. The thought just came to me. So I crept up behind her, picked up the scissors, cut her pyjama cord, and before she knew what was happening, I had managed to give her a good caning.’

Sir James found himself nodding in agreement. Agreeing, that is, that Christine had certainly received a good caning. In another place and at another time, the old man could even have found it in him to offer the young stranger his congratulations.

Jordan was eager to complete the story. ‘And then you ran upstairs, and into Miss Jane’s apartment. A few minutes later, Miss Christine followed you upstairs, meeting Charles on the first landing?’ There were more nods of agreement. It was time for Jordan to conclude his investigation. ‘And so, Sir James, you have a niece who entertains young male uninvited guests in your own house. You have one of her college friends who is really here to steal from you. And you have a maid who is willing to be disloyal to you, should your niece so request it, and is not unwilling to resort to a little blackmail herself at times.’

The old man nodded. An hour or so had passed since the discovery of his household’s indiscretions and misdemeanours. After a quiet walk in the grounds, and a few more drinks — strictly for medicinal purposes — he was feeling more calm. And he had a very clear idea about the steps he would take to resolve his household problems. At his age, such matters needed to be planned, and planned carefully. Too much exertion was unwise. He would deal with Miss Jane, and he would deal with Miss Christine. And the maid, before she was fired. Miss Jane’s young man had already been sent packing.

Jordan shook the old man’s hand. ‘So Charles will be in London tomorrow?’ Sir James nodded. ‘And you’ll have the house and grounds to yourself?’ Sir James smiled. ‘And all day, in the privacy of one’s country estate, to deal with three young miscreants.’ The old man laughed. ‘And a lifetime’s experience of applying the most effective of punishments to the very barest of female bottoms, too.’

It was a long wait for the three girls. Throughout the long day, and the quite lonely evening. And the night, spent this time by Jane on her own. Then in the morning, a succession of baths, manicure and grooming, until the three young miscreants were presentable. It had been a shrewd move on the part of Sir James. Leaving their punishment session for twenty four hours. Allowing their bottoms to recover from the tannings and canings of the previous day and night. But those punishments would seem like child’s play, compared with what Sir James had in mind. One at a time, he intended to teach them a lesson they would never forget. The just desserts of their deceptions would be written large across their well-punished bottoms before the sun set that day.