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There could be no other explanation for the sharp, feminine gasps, or the regular, fleshy smacks sounding from the conservatory, and if a girl was being spanked, it could only be the girl Adam had been watching just minutes before.

She was 18 or 19, he estimated, and beautiful, as slender and delicate as the flowers she’d been walking among and picking. Her skin was like cream, her face a picture of delicate, elfin perfection, the hair that fell to the level of her thighs palest ash blonde. All she’d had on were sandals and a long, white summer dress that moved as she walked to hint at high, pointed breasts and a rounded little bottom, creating a vision which had held Adam entranced as she’d made a careful selection of the choicest blooms and gathered them into a bunch.

He’d wanted to call out to her, to somehow attract her attention and warn her about the owner of Foxdens, the old man he knew only as The Gardener, who did not take kindly to trespassers, least of all those who damaged his precious flowers. Yet she was plainly oblivious to the situation, so much so that he’d told himself she must have had every right to be there, and every right to pick the flowers. When a voice had called out, not from Foxdens but from the nearby Gatehouse, she had paused long enough to pick one last bloom, then tripped happily away across the lawn. Whoever had called out had used the name Jasmine. Now Jasmine was being spanked, and the man doing the spanking could only be The Gardener himself.

Adam hesitated, torn between a desire to help her and a fear of the cantankerous old man that went back to early childhood. The Gardener was tall and angular, with a body that seemed to be made of coat hangers and a face the colour of old brick. High, bushy eyebrows and a bristling, white moustache added to his ferocious appearance. His bad temper was notorious, yet he was now old and frail, surely no match for a young man, nor for a young woman for that matter, which suggested something very odd indeed – that the girl had accepted her ignominious punishment.

Puzzled, Adam found himself wondering exactly what was going on. It seemed likely that Jasmine had accepted her spanking, if not exactly meekly, to judge by her squeals. That implied she might also have accepted yet more intimate indignities, such as allowing her pretty white summer dress to be lifted, or even having her knickers pulled down. And if that had happened, then her bottom would be bare, bare and on show through the glass of the conservatory.

Adam was climbing the wall even as his train of thought reached its glorious but guilty conclusion. As he crossed the lawn he was telling himself that he was going to rescue her, and that the possibility of getting a peep at her bare bottom was purely incidental, but he knew this was a lie. When he reached the bed of blue delphiniums that ran around the curve of the conservatory he ducked low and slowed his pace, to peer in between the tall flower spikes.

The spanking was still in progress, Jasmine’s cries and the sound of the old man’s hand being applied to her bottom now clear. Adam raised his head cautiously, peering through the delphiniums and into the conservatory. Inside, a bank of The Gardener’s precious dark roses formed the backdrop to Jasmine’s spanking. The old man was seated on a chair of wrought iron, his eyes popping from his puce-coloured face, his long, bony legs extended to accommodate her body. Her face was turned away but her dainty little bottom was on full show, wriggling beneath plain white cotton panties pulled so tight they seemed to have been painted on. The material followed every contour of her softly bulging cheeks, the gentle groove of her slit and even the lips of her cunt, each and every exquisite curve displayed as if in deliberate, loving detail. Naked flesh bulged out from either leg hole, pink from spanking and still quivering faintly from the last smack. Then The Gardener paused to take a firm grip on the waistband, his gruff voice blending with Jasmine’s gasp as she realised she was to be stripped behind.

‘Oh, the hell with decency, let’s have you bare bottom, Miss Jasmine Brown.’

Guilt and arousal welled up in Adam’s chest at the prospect of watching the beautiful girl get her panties pulled down – emotions that became painfully strong as he imagined her agonised feelings. Helpless fury and biting shame, bitter consternation and raging self-pity as her modesty was stripped away by some irate old fart who didn’t even have the intelligence or humanity to realise how utterly inappropriate it was to give a girl a spanking, let alone a bare-bottom spanking, whatever her sin. Yet, to his amazement, Jasmine didn’t put up a fight at all but meekly lifted her hips to allow the little white panties to be peeled down off her bottom. As he took in the sight, his feelings of guilt redoubled, yet he found himself unable to look away, let alone act to put a stop to the appalling indignity being inflicted on the young woman. She was just too beautiful, the situation just too compelling, with her pale, cheeky bottom now completely naked, and so trim and firm that not only was her sweetly made little cunt fully visible but also the tight pink dimple of her anus.