There are some scenes I’m not sure I’ll ever get to play. But it doesn’t stop me imagining them…

Picture the girl, being led along the corridor by her partner. They’ve travelled some distance. “I’d like to introduce you to a few friends,’ he’d explained.

They stop in front of the final door. He knocks and waits. The door opens; he leads her in, clasping her wrist just a little too tightly. And before her eyes adjust to the darkness, it starts: hands cover her mouth, roughly; she’s blindfolded.

He speaks, but not to her. “Repayment of my debt, gentlemen. I shall come back later, once you have finished with her.”

An upper-class voice: firm, assertive: “You may leave us now.” The door opens again, closes behind him.

She screams for help; the slap across her face buys her stunned silence. “Gentlemen,” the voice murmurs softly: “Shall we?”

Hands. Everywhere, all at once – how many, she cannot tell. Touching, fondling, groping. She tries to fight her way out, but there are too many of them.

They strip her, tearing at buttons and cloth to bare her. And then the hands continue – probing, squeezing, penetrating.

The voice again: “Tie her down.” And she feels herself being bent forward – over the back of a sofa, she guesses. Ropes are applied to her wrists; she’s pulled forward as they are secured. More ropes on her ankles; they too are tied tight, pulling her onto tiptoe, her legs parted, leaving her shamefully exposed.

She trembles, begs for mercy, even before the voice explains, “One stroke for every ten guineas owed.”   (‘Guineas’? With what? How much did he owe? Did he know what they were going to do to her?)

And then the first cut, slicing, burning, agonising. The first of more-than-she-could count: the men swapping over every minute or so, as she pays his debt.

Then nothing. No strokes, no touching, no words. Just the agonising pain across her buttocks.

Eventually, he speaks again. “Shall we leave her, gentlemen?” And the sound of the door opening, and the group leaving.

The door shuts. She’s alone. Sobbing.

And then the sound. A footstep behind her. A zip being opened, a belt buckle undone. And she realises she still has company, as he moves close behind her and she realises that the worst is still to come…