It had been an oddly calm day at the café. There had been no inexplicable imbalances in the registers, no clueless trainees in need of babysitting, no last-minute sick calls - even the ever-malfunctioning espresso machine had kept its cool. Bertie had spent the latter half of his shift waiting for something to inevitably go wrong, but he clocked out at four p.m. disappointed.

Typically by this time of the day he’d be exhausted, and it was a shock to have energy in the early afternoon. Maybe he and Rachel could go for a walk before dinner. Hey, maybe they could dine out during their walk – there was a new fusion restaurant that had opened up two months ago that they still hadn’t tried.

As he parked the car and made his way to the lobby door, the uneasy feeling that he’d first sensed at work crept up on him again. He ignored it and stepped inside. It was just stomach trouble, he told himself. He’d switched to almond milk in his coffee, but it didn’t seem to digest any better than skim.

The feeling got stronger as he got off the elevator.

He opened the apartment door to find Rachel waiting for him at the kitchen table. Her short, greying hair was disheveled, her eyes puffy, and she was still in the t-shirt and boy shorts she’d worn to bed. And beside her was… Jeff? Bertie could only see the back of his bald head, but it certainly looked like their older friend with his hand on Rachel’s shoulder. He turned at the sound of the door opening.

“There you are,” said Jeff. “I think the two of you need to talk.”

***

Bertie bit his lip. “Is this an intervention?”

“You can call it that,” answered Jeff, “but right now you need to pay attention. Rachel?”

She whistled out a breath. “I want to… I need to apologize for how I’ve treated you. Ever since this thing began with Jeff and Leanne, I’ve been in a bad headspace, for the reasons you know and some you don’t. I haven’t been a good dominant for you, and I’m sorry.”

Bertie felt a rush to his ears. He’d grown more comfortable talking about their ‘activities’, especially with someone like Jeff who shared the same interests – but this was something more intimate.

“Rachel, maybe we can talk about this in private?”

Jeff folded his arms. “Son, your lady asked us to be here. She brought this to me because she didn’t think you’d listen, and I told her that you need to hear it from her.”

“Hear what?”

Rachel shuddered. “I started to talk about this before but… look, you remember how excited we both were when we first talked about playing with other people? But ever since we actually started doing it, you’ve either choked up or begged me to take the lead. I feel like I’m forcing you to do something you don’t want anymore.”

So she’d noticed. For as long as they’d been together, he supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised that Rachel had picked up on the slow trickling of enthusiasm. And he thought he’d covered it so well—

“Wait. Did you say ‘us’? She asked ‘us’ to be here?”

A hand shot up from the couch in the next room.

“I’m just here for moral support,” Leanne called out. “Ignore me.”

Bertie turned back to Rachel.

“I thought you liked being the one on top,” he said softly.

“I did. I do! I love exploring that part of myself, and it’s hot as fuck, but… come on, is that all? After all the stuff we imagined together, is that where we draw the line?”

“I’m happy with that. Aren’t you?”

Jeff was right - he didn’t want to have this talk. What he had with Rachel wasn’t everything he ever wanted, but it was... stable. After all their experimentation, all their ups and downs as a couple, it was theirs. Wasn’t that enough?

She frowned. “I’m happy, sure. But not fulfilled. I have… needs, Bertie. And I can’t meet them if I’m the one in charge all the time. Sometimes I need somebody to take charge of me.”

“What do you mean, take charge? Like what Jeff and Leanne have?”

Her resulting silence was deafening.

“What?”

Rachel tried to hide in the shallow depths of her shirt. Jeff cleared his throat.

“What she’s too embarrassed to say, is that she was punished a little while back for interfering with her sister's recovery.”

Bertie’s temper flared. “And by ‘punished’, you mean…?”

“I’m sure you can guess. I told Rachel that it should have been you, but she didn’t feel that she could ask you and frankly I understand why. Even so it was the wrong thing to do, and she wants to be accountable. But I think you owe her the truth.”

Truth be damned. It wasn’t any of Jeff’s business to begin with, and where the fuck did the old man get off taking Rachel’s side, when Bertie was the one who’d been left in the dark – again! Who the fuck did Jeff think he was?

“Bertie.” It was Rachel’s voice, cutting through the haze. The woman he loved, even if he didn’t always understand her. He felt the tension slip away from him.

The truth had to start somewhere.

“You know this was something I used to fantasize about since long before we met," he said, his heart pounding. "But for all the time I spent reading about it, learning about it... it was only ever a fantasy until I met you."

“It doesn’t have to be. Not anymore.”

“Maybe. I thought all that preparation meant that at least I’d be good at it. But you… you’ve been a better top than I ever was. Everyone we’ve met had been better. Or at least more experienced, or more confident.”

“You’re selling yourself short, Bertie. Sure, you were… over-enthusiastic as a dominant. Maybe a little conceited…”

“I was an amateur!”

Rachel finally looked up at him, her expression fluctuating between pity, compassion and frustration. No doubt she’d had her theories as to why Bertie had been so withdrawn, and imposter syndrome had been far from her first guess.

Jeff cleared his throat.

“You know what ‘amateur’ means? ‘To do for love’. Some of us have just been doing it for longer.” He sighed. “You and Rachel aren’t the first couple in this position, and you’re not doing yourself any favours pretending like you are. And you, Bertie... you’ve been waffling for two years trying to decide if you’re ready to take the next step.”

Humiliation and rage chewed at the back of Bertie’s mind, leaving only a thin string of patience.

“I’m not waffling,” he growled.

“This isn’t an intellectual exercise, kid. Either you want to take this beyond the bedroom, or you don’t. You don’t have to commit your life to it, but you have to commit something.”

The string snapped. “You know, it’s rich hearing you talk about commitment, Jeff. Weren’t you divorced twice?”

He expected Jeff to get angry, maybe even quit the conversation and storm off. Bertie could take the hit to his self-respect if it won him the confrontation.

But Jeff looked only disappointed.

“I’m going to tell you a story,” he said, an edge creeping into his voice. “I didn’t know thing one about this BDSM business until I met my first wife. I had this beautiful, vibrant, very traditional woman who wanted me to hold her down and spank her. Do you think I knew what I was doing then? I figured it was a phase, and we’d have a wild time as newlyweds and settle down once we got older. But she never lost the spark, she was still the same naughty little girl well into her thirties.”

“Jeff, I’m sorry—“

“I’m not saying this so you know how much of a stud this old man was, back when I had all my hair. The point is, things got in the way of our playtime – I had to work, there were obligations, ‘let’s try for kids’ – and I kept putting her off. We’d save the weird stuff for when the time was right. When we -when I was ready. Do you know what happened then?”

Bertie exchanged looks with Rachel. They’d been in a similar situation not long ago, and they both knew how it could have ended. But it was Leanne, listening from the next room, who answered the question.

“She left, didn’t she?”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah. My point is, you can’t spend your life waiting for the right time. You find it, or you make it. I wish I’d known that when I was still married, but I was sixty by the time that lesson finally stuck. You two are still young. Make your mistakes today, don’t live with regret tomorrow.”

Rachel put her hand on top of his. Even if she hadn’t heard this story from Jeff before, it was clear that she’d seen this side of him. Somehow it had escaped Bertie’s consideration that his friend hadn’t always been this jovial, unassuming old fart. That people could change.

And maybe he could, too.

He turned his attention back to Rachel. They’d been together ten years now, and he was still learning something new about her every day. Whatever she’d done, whatever the reason, she’d bared her soul to him. What was he supposed to do now?

“Do you feel you’ve earned a spanking then, Rachel? A real one?”

She blushed in shock at the question and then gave an embarrassed nod.

“You understand it’s going to hurt, right? It’s been awhile.”

“Not that long,” Rachel murmured. “But I understand.”

Bertie fixed his attention back to Jeff. “Thank you for your help. I appreciate you being there for Rachel when I wasn’t, but I think we can take it from here.”

“No,” Jeff announced firmly. “We were talking about this before you arrived, and we agree that this is a first step in addressing your ‘performance anxiety’.”

“And if I disagree?”

Jeff gave him a lopsided grin. “Do you?”

Bertie looked from him to Rachel. Her embarrassment was still plain, but she managed an assenting thumbs-up.

This wasn’t how he hoped this would happen, and he wasn’t sure he liked how the pair had gone behind his back – but what Jeff said was true, the right time wouldn’t just happen. He’d been given an opportunity, and this time he was going to take it.

“Rachel. I’m going to need your chair, please.”

His voice came out deep but soft – it had been dormant for years, but he’d never forgotten how to speak with that tone. It sounded like a polite request, but there was an authority to it that Rachel felt more than heard. She complied almost by reflex, her body carrying her to her feet before her mind could decide for itself.

Bertie sat down and looked back up at Rachel. Even following her discussion with Jeff, she looked like a deer in the headlights, unprepared and unsteady.

“Are you sure about this, Rachel?”

“Yes, honey.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeff interrupted. “I know you don’t care for ‘Daddy’, but you should address him with respect.”

Rachel repeated, “Yes, sir.”

Poor Rachel. It couldn’t have been easy coming clean to him, knowing and dreading that this would be the outcome. And in front of Jeff – in front of her sister!

“Hands on your head, then.”

Rachel’s fingers had been reaching for her waistband, but rose hesitantly at his instruction. Bertie wasted no time in shucking her cut-offs down her generous thighs, and when the loose fabric failed to bunch at her knees he took them off entirely.

A musky odour hit him as the clothing settled on the floor. Rachel hadn’t changed since the night before, and her bedclothes were soaked with sweat.  

He made a decision.

“The shirt as well, I think. Leanne, do you mind? There’s a hamper in our bedroom.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow, but his reaction was subtle compared to the incandescent shade that coloured Rachel’s face. Still, she squirmed out of her T-shirt and handed it, naked, to Leanne.

Leanne smirked. “Nice tits, sis.”

“You wish you had these tits,” Rachel snapped back.

“That’s enough,” said Bertie, trying his best to stay focused. He’d never fallen out of love with his girlfriend’s body – her soft skin, her generous figure, narrow in the shoulders but wide in the hips. Under different circumstances he’d have dismissed his visitors and taken Rachel to the bedroom (Or more realistically, the shower). But he had a job to do.

He pressed his hand into small of her back, and she assumed the familiar position over his knee. He could hear her breathing, a series of tiny gasps as she waited in suspense for that first smack across her seat.

Bertie considered. If he were in Rachel’s place, he’d want her to start off light and give the sting time to build. Not a hard spanking, but a long one to give him time to grind over her thighs and exchange sexy banter with the woman spanking him. But this wasn’t about what he wanted, this was about what Rachel needed – and what she needed wasn’t banter.

He made another decision.

Rachel grunted with the impact as his hand flattened the far cheek of her bubble butt, leaving behind a crisp scarlet handprint. Satisfied, he applied one to the other cheek as well in quick succession.

“Ow! Bertie, I said I was sorry!”

He heard her pleas, but he didn’t let them stop him. His arm moved on its own time, his hand already beginning to tingle, but Bertie was just getting started.

“I believe you,” he replied, aware that he should be saying something, “but this isn’t a punishment. You wanted a commitment, and that’s what you’re getting.”

He saw Jeff and Leanne out of the corner of his eye. The old man was impassive, watching but doing his best to avoid the appearance of judgment. Good. He’d done enough already. And Leanne was clearly having the time of her life.

“Yeah, Bertie! Turn that fat ass red!”

“That’s enough.”

“Come on, Daddy, she’s seen me get spanked, like, three times now! Can’t I have fun just this once?”

Bertie ignored them, turning his full attention back to the woman over his lap. She kicked as the sting built, and it was taking most of his strength just to keep her anchored in place. The outlines of those first handprints were long gone, lost under a hot pink swath that now covered her entire backside.

“You could have saved yourself from this by being upfront with me,” he chided, his hand unceasing. “I don’t like being the last one to know when something’s wrong.”

“I know, and I tried!” Rachel whined. “I tried to – ooh! – make suggestions! I left – oww! – I left hints!”

“Hints?” Bertie held his palm in the air. “Honey, if you think that you’re going to get my attention with hints, then you need this… more… than… you… know!” He punctuated the statement with hard smacks against the back of her thighs, causing a racket that left even Leanne wincing in sympathy.

“I could have listened better,” he continued, “and I should have been more willing to bring up my own concerns. But it doesn’t change the fact that I gave you control because I thought it was what you wanted – and because I trusted you.”

She twisted under him, but if she had any fight in her it had long since left. Bertie felt he’d more than made his point. Still, he decided, it should be said.

“I still trust you. And I am willing to give back control after this, if that’s what you want.”

Rachel hiccupped. It was an odd sound, abrupt, and in an instant Bertie forgot the rest of what he intended to say. He could feel a twitching in his knees. Was it adrenaline? Nerves? No… it wasn’t him at all.

The hiccup became a high-pitched, almost imperceptible keening, before assuming its final form as a full-body wail. All at once, Rachel let out her pain and fears and anxieties like Pandora’s Box onto the tile floor, until she was hoarse, until Bertie pulled her up from his lap and into his arms.

She buried her face into his chest, and he felt moisture leaking through his work shirt. For a moment they sat together like that, neither one making a sound.

“If this is what you need…” Bertie finally whispered, “… on the regular, or just every once in a while… I will make sure you get that, too. But you’re going to have to tell me.”

He didn't expect Rachel to thank him, not at this time. She didn’t have to. He rested his hand on her burning bottom. Topping like this took a lot out of him. If he was going to assume this role again, he was going to have to get himself in shape.

Leanne’s whistle broke through the silence. “Daddy, can I take a picture?”

“Young lady, I told you enough already.” Jeff sounded unimpressed. “Bertie, pardon us for a moment. Leanne needs a lesson in manners, and when we get back I promise that she will apologize to both you and Rachel.”

“When we get back from where?” The meaning dawned suddenly on her. “Daddy, you can’t! It’s not even Sunday!” she shrieked as Jeff grabbed her by the arm.

“It doesn’t appear you can wait.” He turned back to Bertie. “Do you mind if we take the bedroom? It’ll give you two some space.”

“Fine by me,” Bertie answered wearily. “There’s a hairbrush on the nightstand if you’d like.”

Jeff smirked and hauled his hapless charge out of the room. Once he was gone, Bertie let out his breath, holding Rachel against him so as not to fall from her already uncomfortable perch.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“Sore,” she mumbled. He wasn’t surprised to hear it. “But… better. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

“I’d forgotten about that rush you get from being on top. I didn’t even realize how much I’d missed it. I think I could do this again – even with friends.”

Rachel climbed back to her feet, rubbing vigourously at her fiery bottom. “Don’t get used to it. I’m going to be a good girl from now on, so the next spanking’s going to be yours.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” she said, and kissed him.