She didn’t want to hurt Bertie. But it was coming to the point where that pain would be inevitable.

Two years, Rachel remembered. It had been two years since they finished couples’ counseling, two years since their therapist of all people had introduced them to a community of kinky people like themselves. Since then, Rachel had seen more red or marked butts – her own included! – than she’d ever thought she’d lay eyes on. She’d had hard spankings, she’d had fun spankings, and some that were serious business, and all of it had been an adventure.

But Bertie’s sense of adventure had left him somewhere along the way. Before the counseling, he and Rachel traded roles what seemed like every week, from punisher to punished. Not all of those scenes had gone to plan, when there had been plans at all, but they’d tried. Now they’d settled into a consistent dynamic, her on the top and him on the bare bottom. Settled.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t enjoy the act of hauling her fully-grown lover across her knee and spanking him like a naughty little boy. It was hot, it made her feel powerful, and Bertie never failed to vigourously show his appreciation afterward. But that scene was getting stale, just as manufacturing excuses for him to spank her had gotten stale in their previous dynamic. There were so many other ways to play, and there had been a time where Bertie had been just as into it as she was.

And the weirdest part, looking back on it, was that when they were considering group play, Bertie was sure he wanted to be the one on top. It wasn’t even a question - he had just assumed that would be how it worked. At the time his presumption had pissed her off, but after having some time to cool down and reflect… there had been a certain charm to his unearned confidence. A charm she missed now.

There had been… not a trick, but a test she’d tried a few weeks back. She was up late, and she got the idea to crank up her MuchDance playlist at one in the morning and romp around the living room wearing only her crop top and thong (The cute one with the little bows on it). It was the sort of thing she’d used to do back when they were first dating.

She’d been in the middle of breathlessly panting along to ‘Strange Disease’ when she saw the bedroom door open.

His hair was a mess, his eyes bleary. He must have been sound asleep.

He didn’t look happy.

She froze, caught in the act. Hoping he’d recognize the familiar situation, fixate on her ass all but falling out of her panties, and mentally put the two together, even in his weary state.

Her stomach was doing flips. Goosebumps dotted her all-too-exposed skin. She could already hear him say it: ‘Young lady, do you know what time it is?’

Oh, she was really going to get it now.

His mouth moved…

…His mouth closed. He went back inside without a word.

What did he want, an engraved invitation? Did she need to wear panties with “SPANK ME” in big bold letters on the seat?

(Incidentally, Rachel did have those panties – but they were more than ten years old and threadbare. She only wore them on laundry days.)

What did she want, for that matter? She didn’t know – and that was the fun of having a community. She could explore what she liked, in a safe environment. She was still young enough to take risks while being wise enough to recognize them. There was so much she hadn’t known she could do, so much she hadn’t done, and new ways of approaching old habits.

She would have said, for example, that she’d given being spanked for punishment a fair shake. Both Bertie and her late ex had tried their hand at it (Pun intended), but there had always been something… incongruous?… about them wanting to fuck her immediately afterward, like the discipline was just a ploy to get her naked and compliant.

So what changed? She hated to admit it – and really didn’t want to relive it - but the catalyst was probably her getting spanked by her former boss. In all her pretend-discipline from Bertie, she’d forgotten what real spanking felt like before that, and that memory would stay with her long after the bruises had faded.

But that was the thing – the memory stayed. Even now her knees trembled at the thought of Mr. Hardecker’s meaty hand around her wrist, pulling her into his lap. Was it fear that she remembered? Helplessness? Anticipation? Something else? She couldn’t say for sure.

She was the one on top now. She’d earned that right. But maybe… maybe there was still some part of her that wanted to submit. That needed to submit, even if just for a little while.

Then – in a turn of events she could still barely believe – Leanne happened. Her sister was messy, to say the least. She’d always been that way, as long as Rachel could remember. Now she was taking regular discipline spankings - and from Jeff Frobisher, of all people? Creepy old man Jeff, who dated and got dumped by his sugar baby the year before?

Whatever they had… it worked. Jeff made a stern but fair authority figure, and Leanne was trying her best to be a responsible adult, albeit one who had trouble sitting on a weekly. It was a relationship she both couldn’t understand… and desperately wanted to.

At first, she told herself she was acting for Leanne’s benefit, so she could save her sister from her nonsensical arrangement. Jeff had to be using her, nothing else made sense. Then got a taste of what Leanne was getting. Just like with Mr. Hardecker, it wasn’t a situation she’d teased or planned her way into. She’d crossed a line and was held to account, pants around her ankles, right beside Leanne.

It was an ordeal, it was a release, and it was the closest she’d ever felt to her sister in thirty-five years. Afterward they’d hugged and dried their tears, a lifetime of strife forgotten in a few minutes’ shared experience. Jeff had been as perfect a gentleman as could be expected from somebody who had thoroughly smacked two half-naked women before sticking spicy things where the sun didn’t shine. And Rachel…

…Didn’t hate it? Would do it again, maybe even with Bertie?

Except that she couldn’t, because he wouldn’t – wouldn’t take her in hand, and wouldn’t be comfortable watching somebody else do it. And she wished more than anything that he could just tell her why.

Was it shame? Bertie had gotten his first adult spanking from another woman while he’d been dating Rachel. Maybe the idea of sharing partners brought back the guilt he still felt from that?

Was it comfort? She’d taken her experiences as they’d come, but Bertie had fantasized about this stuff for years. If his imagination couldn’t hold up to the real thing, she could understand why he’d stick to what he knew he liked.

Was it fear? Was Bertie worried that by playing with other people, he’d lose the thing that he and Rachel had special between them?

Was it her?

Rachel had thought long and hard about this, but she couldn’t ignore the worst-case scenario. She and Bertie had been together for ten tumultuous years, it was possible that they’d just grown apart. Bertie got off on the pain and power exchange, but a spanking meant something different to her - surrender, yes, but more importantly, catharsis. She didn’t need to have bruises afterward, just a hug after a good cry.

Well, maybe a little bruising. Just as a reminder.

If they weren’t compatible, then where did they go next? She’d known friends who’d tried open relationships, and the idea was tempting. It was cheating without cheating, right? Both of you could accept that you could have fun with other people and you’d still stay together. You’d still stay a couple. Sound concept.

But it was a good idea, why did she feel so shitty bringing it up?

And what if it was the only thing she could do?

Other than…

Across the table, Jeff sighed and steepled his fingers. Rachel swallowed the rest of her words. She’d already unloaded all of her anxieties on this man and as alien as it felt, she needed to shut up and listen.

“Rachel, I don’t think that I’m the person who needs to hear this…”