A birching, a whipping and (probably) a caning

It’d been a long drive, right? I mean, I know it’s rude to fall asleep within twenty minutes of arriving at a friend’s house for the weekend – but I had the right to be tired, surely, after more than four hours at the wheel? And anyway, I did have the hottest dreams…

See, the bedroom in which Haron and I were staying adjoins the part of the house that’s probably best described as the Punishment Room. As I dozed, I suddenly became a gentleman visiting some grand castle, many centuries ago. My host had three lovely daughters, all approaching marriageable age, who’d been quite delightful company at dinner. I’d retired to my chamber for the night, only to be disturbed by noises through the adjoining door. I heard a man’s voice, stern, and a girl’s – protesting, pleading – before the birching began. The sound of the strokes, twenty or more, and the young lady’s evident anguish floated clearly into my room…

… before a quite different gentleman, in slightly more modern times, was staying in a similarly distinguished residence. This time, he was the suitor of his host’s eldest daughter – who, late at night, was caught by her father as she sneaked along a dark corridor towards her beloved’s bedroom. Nothing untoward would have happened, of course: the young man was far too chivalrous for there to have been more than a chaste cuddle. But his intended fiancée was led off to her father’s room, made to stand at the end of his four-poster bed, tied by the wrists then whipped soundly. Needless to say, the following morning the gentleman eloped with her, taking her straight across the border to Gretna Green to wed, and they both lived happily ever after. I do love a happy ending…

… only there was a third dream, this time involving a schoolmaster. But, frustratingly, by the time I woke I’d forgotten any of the details. I’m rather guessing it might have involved a schoolgirl and a cane, but sadly I have no idea whatsoever…