Lucy groaned and tried to burrow into Rob, but he withdrew his arm and moved away from her down the sofa, shooting her a look of stern disapproval.
The formal handover was in progress.
‘Stand up, Lucy.’
Richard had straightened his back and clasped his hands in his lap. He was the epitome of businesslike. Lucy knew there was no use appealing to Rob and it would be unfair to try him anyway. She wasn’t here to play the two off against each other. She was here to try and create a third way.
She got to her feet and stood in front of Richard, her eyes downcast, head hanging a little.
‘Remind me of the little problem we need to address, Lucy.’
‘I spoke without being asked, sir.’
‘That’s right, you did. More than once. I wonder how I can drive this lesson home. What do you think, Lucy?’
‘Me, sir?’
‘Yes, you. What sort of punishment works for you?’
She hung her head still lower. She hated when he made her admit this.
‘Lucy,’ he prompted gently. ‘You know what helps you with your behaviour, don’t you? What’s most effective?’
‘Spanking, sir,’ she whispered.
‘Speak up. I don’t think our friend caught that.’
‘A spanking, sir,’ she said, fighting to keep rebellion from her tone.
‘Yes. We’ve found, haven’t we, through a hard process of trial and error, that the one thing guaranteed to improve your behaviour is a sound spanking. Lessons don’t seem to go in through your ears, so we’ve resorted to delivering them through your bottom. That’s the kind of girl you are, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘A sore bottom works wonders, doesn’t it?’
She gritted her teeth. He loved to prolong the embarrassment. He could keep this up all night if he really wanted to. She had to maintain her meek tone, but it wasn’t easy, especially with Rob, lounging on the corner of the sofa, grinning from ear to ear.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Have you noticed that, Rob?’ asked Richard politely.
‘Yes, I have. She needs plenty of them, too.’
‘Quite right. The more spankings she gets, the better she behaves.’
He waved a hand at the implements, which had been awaiting their moment with such patience.
‘How shall we choose, Lucy?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘Which of those is the worst?’
‘It depends. Depends on how hard they are used, how many strokes. Lots of things.’
‘Well, now, it’s Friday night. We’re here until Sunday evening. Perhaps we shouldn’t go in too hard too soon. What do you think, Rob?’
He inclined his head. ‘Don’t want her stretchered off the pitch before full-time,’ he said, which made Lucy laugh a lot because Rob hated football, so it was the most unexpected metaphor for him to use.