Rachel had been quiet the entire ride home from Jeff’s place. Bertie wasn’t sure how to break the silence – what do you say to someone who’s just watched their grown sister take a bare-bottom spanking?

He’d had maybe twenty minutes to decide how to play this conversation, but all of his options had been dependent on reading Rachel’s expression when she returned. And she was… inscrutable, maybe dealing with some conflicting emotions. So he said nothing, and drove.

It was after nine o’clock when they got back to the apartment. Not terribly late for most people on a Sunday, but Bertie had to open the café for five, and the day that had passed had been wet and miserable. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed.

“Did you want to watch?” Rachel asked once they were in the kitchen. They were her first words to him since she’d asked him to wait in the car during Leanne’s punishment.

“I wouldn’t have known what to do,” he replied. “Besides, it didn’t look like Leanne wanted me there.”

“Leanne’s never liked you. But she’s kind of cute, right? You wouldn’t mind watching her naked butt jiggle and turn red, would you?”

Bertie’s ears burned. Sure, he thought Rachel’s sister was pretty – or had been pretty once, a lifetime ago – but he never would have been attracted to her that way, even if she hadn’t been a bitch to him every time they’d met. And he had no idea where his girlfriend’s hostility was coming from.

“Rachel, I’m tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“Just answer the question. Did you want to watch my sister’s spanking?”

He sighed. “If she wasn’t your sister… sure.”

It clearly wasn’t the answer she’d been looking for… or maybe it was. Maybe what she really wanted was an excuse.

“Go to our room. You’re getting a spanking of your own before bed.”

“No.”

Rachel’s eyes bulged. Their relationship had always involved a certain amount of power exchange, and they’d recently decided that Rachel would be the one assigning spankings exclusively. But Bertie had his limits.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I let you have power over me because I trust you. But right now, you clearly have something on your mind that you don’t want to deal with, and I don’t trust you like this. So unless you think you can force the issue…”

He stood over her to make his point. Even brought up to her full height, she barely met his collarbone.

She slowly exhaled. “I’m sorry, Bertie. Seeing Leanne like that… it brought up a lot of bad memories.”

“Like memories of growing up with her? Or is this about Hugo Caine?”

Rachel bit her tongue.

“What do you know about Hugo?” she finally managed.

“I was at his funeral, Rachel. I know he was your ex, he was a lot older than you, and that he had some really kinky tastes. Everything else I’ve had to guess, and I let it stay ancient history. Is it, or isn’t it?”

“Yes, but not really.” She strode over to the refrigerator and handed Bertie a beer.

He shook his head. “I have to work in a few hours.”

“You’re going to want it…”

***

It hadn’t escaped Bertie’s notice that this was the second time this year that he had found himself at this very table, late at night, listening to Rachel emptying her soul to him. He absent-mindedly took another sip, only to find the can was empty.

“Wow,” he said. “I know you said that I wasn’t the first, but—“

“Yeah.”

“How long was this, again?”

“Three years.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“On the one hand, that sounds incredibly hot, but you knew it was…” He mentally discarded the first word that came to mind.  “…Unhealthy, right?”

Rachel ran her hand through her short hair, grey flecks sparking in the fluorescent light. “Kind of. It was both obvious and insidious, because on the one hand, I’d given consent, but on the other…”

“You were young and you didn’t grasp what that meant, right?”

She nodded. “When I finally admitted to myself what kind of person Hugo was and I left him, I didn’t have a cent to my name. I didn’t have a job. I hadn’t seen my friends in three years. It took a long time for me to get my life back together before I found you. And now I’m seeing my sister going through the same thing, fifteen years later.”

Bertie considered his response before he spoke.

“What kind of reasons did Hugo give for spanking you?”

“Mostly using his stuff without permission,” said Rachel, confused. “Taking too long getting dressed or undressed. Not being ready for him when he wanted to… are you sure you want me to talk about this?”

He didn’t, no.

“So, he did it for control and power,” he summarized. “Now compare that to what Jeff and Leanne are doing. Is it the same?”

“No. Leanne has a structure, and there are penalties if she doesn’t meet her goals, but they’re goals they set together. It’s not like what I had with Hugo at all, really, I don’t even think they’re fucking.”

Bertie winced at the mental image.

“It’s weird, though. Right?” Rachel continued. “We didn’t even talk for years, but at some point we both decided we needed a…” She trailed off.

“A Daddy?”

“I called him Master.”

She shuddered, and Bertie forgot all about her earlier threat and held her trembling body against his. After a moment, she stopped shaking and broke away, rubbing at her eyes.

“You okay, honey?”

“I think so. I’m not very dominant like this, am I?” She grabbed a sheet of paper towel from the counter and blew her nose. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

And that was all.

***

The late-night beer had been necessary at the time, but did not digest well. The vision of Leanne’s red-speckled bottom wiggled its way into Bertie’s subconscious, and he awoke feeling guilty… and hard.

He didn’t know what Rachel meant by ‘making it up’ to him, and he didn’t dwell on it. Her revelations weren’t a complete surprise after Hugo’s funeral, but it was one thing to imagine the kind of relationship she’d had with the departed, and another to hear about it.

Because Rachel hadn’t told him all of that to stroke his desires – she’d told him because it still affected her after all the years since, and because she needed him to understand. And he’d played the part of the supportive boyfriend, but it wasn’t understanding that kept their conversation on a loop in his mind.

In truth, before now he’d treated Rachel’s unspoken past the way he’d treated his early sexual fantasies: Private, slightly embarrassing, and irrelevant. But even a bit of sober second thought tore away the false equivalence - his girlfriend had actually lived those fantasies with somebody else, while he’d only ever enjoyed them with the company of his own hand.

And she hadn’t told him.

Three years, she’d said. Three years of subservience, of bondage, of the constant promise of creative and lascivious punishment.

How did the late Hugo Caine get to be that lucky?

He didn’t see her when he arrived at the apartment after work. He left his keys and wallet on the table beside the door, and plugged in his phone to recharge. He peeled an orange from the fridge, but the taste did nothing to calm his roiling stomach and he left it on the shelf.

The starched collar of his uniform bit at his neck, and he proceeded to the bedroom for a change of clothes, stripping off the shirt as he went.

“You didn’t mean to leave me waiting, did you?”

He heard her voice just as he was unbuttoning his slacks, and nearly fell over as she spoke. Reclined on their bed behind him, she’d have been just out of his peripheral vision – but now she had his attention.

Bertie didn’t recognize what she was wearing. Sure, she had some lingerie that had she’d bought years back, but he would have remembered a black lace bodysuit with cutouts at the shoulders, hips and thighs that showed off her tattoos along with a tempting amount of flesh.

“You like?” She smiled. “I just found it last month while I was sorting donations. I never even got it out of the bag. It still fits okay, right?”

It fit just fine, as far as Bertie could see. Even if it hadn’t been designed for someone as… shapely… as Rachel, as far as he was concerned the look was only improved by how tightly it clung to her curves. There was one part he couldn’t figure out…

“How do you get out of that?”

“Presumptuous, aren’t we?” Rachel laughed. “Tell you what, you can start by parking that bottom of your over my knee.”

Bertie rolled his eyes. “Rachel, I haven’t changed my mind since last night.”

“I know, and this isn’t a punishment. I’ve got a surprise for you, and I think you’re going to enjoy it more with a toasty warm butt. No pressure.”

“Can I get the surprise without the… you know?”

“I don’t know,” she teased. “Can you?”

She batted her eyes in a way she knew that he found irresistible. Even if he could have said no to that, her nipples peeked through the fabric of her outfit, pink and taut. She wanted him, badly.

And what was a sore bottom in exchange for that?

He tossed off his briefs and took his accustomed place across her lap. The lace outfit tickled, picking at his crotch hair. It was an odd sensation, almost as if he was being pulled toward her thighs on little tendrils.

Her hand came down with a loud smack that drowned out his idle thoughts. Without even pausing to let the sting set in, her palm danced from one cheek to the other, a series of slaps that soon had him grunting with each strike.

Pleased at the response she was getting, Rachel changed gears. The same hand that had struck him only seconds ago was still, then started rubbing in circles across his now-reddening butt. Her fingers slipped down his crack, drifting over his hole, teasing at that sensitive spot at the base of his sack.

If she intended this to be her surprise, it would be over very quickly.

Bertie murmured, “I’m going to—“

“Not yet,” she whispered back, and raised her hand again.

As stiff as she’d made him, the following swats bit into him with twice the fury. His reaction was just as strong, twisting over her knees, her closeness only building pressure in his loins.

And then she turned her attention to his upper thighs. The sharp pain so close to his privates had him abandon any thoughts of orgasm.

“Ow!” he hissed. “Honey, that hurts!”

“Are you going to come in my lap now?”

He shook his head miserably. Damn, but he’d been so close…

Rachel brushed her fingers over his buttocks as if warming her hands over a flame. Evidently deciding that he’d had enough, she leaned back so that he could rise.

“I thought this wasn’t a punishment,” Bertie grumbled, giving his backside a good rub. “It kind of felt harder than usual.”

Rachel was a patient and determined spanker, but most of the time she had to be – she was small and had little upper-arm strength. He hadn’t imagined that she’d put considerably more effort than usual, and the way she was massaging her shoulder only proved it.

“Maybe a little,” she conceded. “But speaking of harder than usual...”

Now that the sting was no longer fresh, feeling was returning to Bertie’s lower half. And not all of it was from injury. Rachel pivoted on the bed to face him.

“Does this mean no corner time?” he ventured.

She ignored him, instead reaching out gently toward his swelling member. She tapped the underside of his shaft, her touch vibrating through his entire body and bringing him to full attention. Satisfied at the result, she opened her mouth.

Bertie’s eyes had been squeezed shut since she’d touched him, and it was the wetness of her lips against his cock that forced them open. He stood petrified as she leaned in, engulfing him.

“I should—“ he started, and ended with a groan. He wanted to lie down – but not as much as he wanted Rachel to continue.

Her head bobbed slowly beneath him, her tongue tracing the underside of his glans. Bertie felt lightheaded, unsteady on his feet. Rachel hadn’t given him head in many years, supposedly because she’d accepted that she wasn’t any good at it – though Bertie had always suspected that her jaw just got sore long before he could finish.

But Rachel had a secret weapon this time. As she once more took Bertie deep into her mouth, she stretched out behind him and took his tender bum cheeks in hand. And then she squeezed. Hard.

Her fingernails digging into his braised flesh sent Bertie over the edge. He jerked in place, spurting vigourously. Rachel lost her grip and he fell backward with a crash. She hurriedly swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Honey, are you okay?”

He groaned and signaled a weak thumbs-up. He didn’t resist as she took him by the arm and pulled him back up to his feet, though the smoldering pain in his backside came back almost immediately.

She turned him slightly to the side, admiring her handiwork. “So, did you like that?”

“I was floored,” he replied.

He wasn’t fast enough to dodge the pillow she threw at him. Hugo Caine had never had to deal with this, he was sure.

And he had his answer. Hugo wasn’t the lucky one. His control over a younger Rachel had been ephemeral, depending completely on her lack of independence and self-confidence. Those traits had taken years to develop, and it was Bertie who had been there to help her to realize them.

It wasn’t embarrassment she felt in remembering her relationship with Hugo; it was regret. That was why she hadn’t told him about it for so long, and that was what had her so worried for her sister that she finally did.

“How does that happen?” Rachel was saying.

“Hm?”

“You’re going to say it’s because you work in a café and the smell gets everywhere, but seriously - why does your cum taste like coffee?”

“It’s a sweet-ferment Sumatran roast,” he joked. “The secret is in tasting it before I’m able to shower.”

She grimaced, and Bertie expected her to spank him again – but instead she kissed him on the cheek, leaving a spot of single-origin.

“I love you,” she purred. “Now go wash up and maybe – just maybe – we can find out how to take this outfit off together.”

Hugo Caine would never know what he’d missed.