The nearly inaudible click of her key in the front door was Bertie’s first indication that Rachel was home. He rolled over in bed to glance at the alarm clock on the table beside him – nearly 4 AM. That was late, even for Rachel, and as he listened he could hear her clomping around in the kitchen, even as she was trying to be silent, punctuating her noisiest moves with a loud “Shh!” and muted giggling.

Bertie had been hoping to get to sleep for hours. He’d been forced to keep the restaurant open late to accommodate a loud and raucous party of elderly hockey fans. He’d been hoping to be home for midnight, with enough energy for a late-night romp with his fiancé, but his expectations had come to a screeching halt after he’d hurried home to find her gone. He’d later checked his phone and discovered that she’d messaged him, deciding that if they couldn’t spend the night together that she was going out to karaoke. He’d been left on his own, alone and still hard. He assumed that once he’d jerked off he’d be able to slip right into sleep, but the orgasm left him unfulfilled. Two hours later, he was still awake, still wanting more.

Another “Ssh! He’s sleeping!” followed the first, and Bertie shot up in bed, his fatigue quickly dissipating. The responding voice was definitely Rachel – and that meant that the first voice hadn’t been. Somebody else was in his apartment!

He lowered his feet to the hard floor as quietly as he could muster and stalked his way toward the kitchen, where he could see the light from the refrigerator. There was some whispering between the two voices, but he could make out very few of the words. Who was Rachel bringing home with her at this hour? And why?

He saw Rachel first, in a sparkling blue mini-dress with fringe that set off her short, platinum blonde hair. And while much of the colour had peeled or bled off since the beginning of the night, he recognized the blue lipstick she was wearing, a shade she had spent hours selecting at the mall. Her eyes were glazed, and as he stealthily approached he could smell the smoke. Rachel didn’t have much of a head for pot, if she was still under its effect, then she must have had a joint just before getting in the door. Her companion was hidden on the other side of the refrigerator door.

“Where do you keep the spinach dip?”

Bertie paused. The stranger was a woman. He hadn’t trusted his own ears over the distance, but from here there was no question. And she sounded young, maybe at a university age.

Rachel sighed. “I don’t have spinach dip, I said we should get spinach dip. You are so fucked up.”

“I’m fucked up? Go to bed, Rachel, you’re drunk.”

“True. But I need to be really quiet, or—“ she looked up. Bertie’s eyes locked with her for a long second, and then her jaw dropped.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry—"

The second girl lifted her head from behind the fridge. As Bertie had suspected, she was in her early or mid-twenties, with long, dischevelled onyx hair streaked with pink and skin several shades darker than Rachel’s. He couldn’t tell if the clothes she was wearing were for exercise or going out, but complimented her sizeable curves either way, with fascinating cutouts that teased the imagination further. Her mouth formed an “O” of surprise as she noticed Bertie as well.

Rachel was still trying to find her voice. “Um, Bertie, this is Maya. Maya, this is my fiancé, Bertie--”

“Bertram,” he interjected.

“Bertram. I’m sorry I woke you up. I had a little too much to drink, so Maya helped me walk home.”

The new girl nodded, and Bertie turned to her, trying to project a tone of authority despite the exhaustion he could feel seeping back in.

“Thank you for that.”

She nodded.

“I assume I also have you to thank for that little pick-me-up?” He sniffed loudly, hoping that made his point.

“Dude, it was just so she could sober up on the way back up here. Besides, she’s a grown-ass woman, she doesn’t need your permission to smoke up.”

As her lips moved, Bertie started to glimpse flashes of blue amidst the purple tar. The colours had blended at the side of her mouth, the bottom of her lip. Not even listening to the end of her sentence, Bertie looked to Rachel and saw the same marks in purple against her cheeks and chin – even some on her neck.

Incredulity broke through his voice. “Were you two… making out?”

The ridiculousness of the words made the question even more laughable, but both women responded with guilty silence. It was no secret to Bertie that Rachel was attracted to other women – that she’d even had one short-lived lesbian relationship – but not while she was seeing him! And then she brought this woman home?

“It’s not what it looks like,” said Rachel.

“So that’s not a hickey on your neck?” he snapped back.

Maya blushed, the glow apparent even against the umber of her skin. “We didn’t do anything. Really.”

“Exactly,” Rachel agreed, “It was a heat of the moment thing. Maya had just finished a song – she has an amazing voice, by the way – and I said to her, I could just kiss you. Figure of speech.”

“And I think, she’s cute, she’s also a really good singer—"

“Thank you.”

“—So I say, why don’t you?”

“It was hot.”

Bertie got the picture pretty quickly: Their impulsive affection had attracted an audience and they’d put on a bit of a show. Their performance had got them free drinks and a toke, and afterward they’d had to stumble their respective ways back home. This had also been the point where hunger had set in, and as Maya started to recount the various restaurants they’d tried to enter, Bertie cut her off.

“Again, thank you for bringing her back, Maya.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now please go home.”

She was only a little surprise. She leaned in to kiss Rachel on the cheek, then thought better of it and gave her a hug instead. Rachel looked crestfallen.

“Wait, Maya. You can crash on our couch.”

Maya looked over her shoulder to Bertie. “Nah,” she said, “I’ve intruded enough. Sorry about the late-night wakeup, Bertie.”

The door closed behind her, and Rachel sighed. After a moment, she perked up and turned back to Bertie.

“So, now that you’re up, you want to fool around?”

“I thought that’s what you were doing with Maya.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Please. She’s a friend. Would I go to bed with her?” She held the silence just long enough to make it uncomfortable. “Maybe. But…“

“Oh, butt is right,” Bertie snarled. Without further ado, he took Rachel by the arm and pulled her with him over toward the couch. Before she could mount any kind of resistance, he had her slung over his lap. Her free hand shot back to cover herself, but the effort was useless – her hands were small, and her backside wasn’t. Bertie brought his palm down firmly on her seat, and Rachel gasped.

“Come on,” she moaned, “You don’t want to do this…”

He spanked her twice more before responding. “I’m pretty… sure… that I do,” punctuating each pause with another slap on her rump. Her bottom wiggled in the tight confines of her satin dress, and Bertie felt his cock harden as she wriggled in his lap. He wanted her, but he was also enjoying the position she was in. She whimpered, and he took it as encouragement to continue. She yelped as Bertie’s hand smacked away at her rear.

“Please… I’m already wet…”

Her husky voice stopped Bertie with his punishing hand in mid-air. A second passed, then he reached down to the inside of her thigh and lightly traced his fingers upward. He brushed up against the thin fabric of her panties, drew against the small bulge of her vulva, and discovered – that she hadn’t been lying.

“Oh, you naughty, naughty girl,” he chuckled.

“So naughty,” she replied, “Are you going to fuck me, or what?”

“I most assuredly am. But I don’t think your spanking is done just yet.”

Taking hold of the fabric, he yanked up the hem of Rachel’s dress, exposing the cleft of her butt cheeks. He heard her shout for him to stop, but he continued to pull, yanking the cover from her bare bottom.

Even in the darkness of the living room, the dark splotch was clearly visible on Rachel’s lightly pinked cheek. She reached back to cover it, but it was already too late.

“That’s lipstick, isn’t it?”

“Bertie, please… just fuck me. You know you want to.”

“Did Maya kiss your ass?”

“We were just playing around, I swear-OW!”   

He rubbed her warm buns, her weight on his groin growing heavier. The tiny thong she was wearing offered her no shelter from his hand, but she looked so adorable across his knee… and after all, there was a tradition to be upheld.

Just as he’d hooked his fingers under the string of her panties, a bright light from the hallway spilled over him. Rachel panicked and flew off his lap, trying in desperation to shove her skirt back over the bulge of her hips. Bertie closed his eyes until the spots cleared, then opened them to find Maya standing in the doorway with what was becoming a very familiar expression plastered on her face.

“Yes?” he growled, unable to stop himself.

“Can you drive me home?”

***

Maya was extraordinarily quiet on the ride back to her dorm. It turned out that she lived some distance from the apartment complex, and Bertie imagined that she’d probably underestimated the walk she would have to make, until she had to make it by herself. She said only a handful of words on the trip, all in regards to direction.

For his part, Bertie didn’t make a peep, either. Despite their sudden introduction, he knew next to nothing about this girl, and had nothing to tell her about the scene she’d unwittingly walked into. Her terror was plain, but there was something else there. After all, if she thought Bertie was abusive, why would she get into a car with him? Maybe she was curious about what she’d seen. Or, he thought, blushing, what if she’d been listening before she’d walked in? That might put what she’d seen in an entirely different context.

If she’d seen the colour in his face, she made no sign of it, and Bertie forced himself to keep his eyes on the road. He reminded himself that Maya was a stranger, a nosy one at that, and he had other things to consider.

Like how he was going to make Rachel’s bottom glow in the dark.

***

Traffic was a non-issue at four in the morning, and Bertie was back as quickly as he left. The apartment was still dark, save for a sliver of light visible from underneath the bathroom door.

“Rachel?”

He reached for the doorknob, but found it locked.

“Honey, come out of there. We have something we need to discuss.”

Her voice came out muffled, “Don’t wanna spanking.”

“I’ve taken Maya home. It’s just the two of us now.”

“Don’t wanna spanking.”

She sniffled, and it hit Bertie that she’d been crying.

“Rachel, are you alright?” He pulled at the doorknob again, and was not surprised to discover it was still locked. “Let me in, please.”

“I’m fine, I just can’t deal with this now. Can we talk in the morning?”

Bertie could feel his hardness beginning to ebb. He’d missed his opportunity when he took Maya home – maybe even before that. The splash rang through the tiny bathroom as Rachel spat in the toilet. Her drinking had probably caught up with her.

Eventually, he heard water running in the bathtub, enough to fill it. He waited for an hour for Rachel to come out, but heard nothing in that time. Finally, his eyes heavy, he retired to bed.

***

Despite the interruptions of the night before, he slept soundly. It was nearly noon when he woke up in terror thinking he’d slept through his alarm. Then he remembered with some relief that he was working a late shift today, and was able to relax. He sat up in bed, smoothed his boxers, and noticed a light stain over his crotch. Somewhere between his late-night masturbation and putting Rachel over his knee, he’d gotten sloppy. He shucked off his shorts and tossed them in the laundry hamper.

The thought of Rachel drew his attention to her customary spot in the bed beside him, but he found it undisturbed. Had she slept in the bathtub all night, he wondered to himself? He leaned out the bedroom door to peek into the bathroom, but the water had been drained, and there was no sign of her except for a oily line near the rim of the tub – one of Rachel’s bath bombs, he’d wager.

His whiskers started to tickle, and he inhaled reflexively. Something in the air…

Coffee.

He followed his nose into the kitchen, where he found a half-full pot and an empty mug waiting for him. As he drew close, the flavours of caramel and cacao made themselves known. It was heavenly.

And to complete the image of paradise, he then noticed Rachel seated at the kitchen table in nothing but a thin bathrobe, open to the waist, her pearly breasts pushing the fabric open. She waved as he entered, but didn’t look up from the book she was reading.

He suspected that she was likely hung over. “Did you sleep well?”

Rachel nodded. “Yeah. I got a couple of hours in the tub, it really cleared out my head.” Finishing her sentence, she put down the book and gestured for Bertie to join her. “Look, about last night, we should probably talk.”

Ah, thought Bertie, now I get to find out why she has a lip print on her behind. This ought to be good. He poured himself a cup, adding milk and sugar. He saw Rachel’s eyebrow rise as she took in his pantslessness.

“Missing something?” she asked.

“I’m thinking of doing laundry.” He took a seat across from her, settling his naked butt on the padded wood of the chair. “So, shoot.”

“I’m sorry that I was so loud when we came in last night. That was inconsiderate, and I can only say that I was drunk and had every intention of making it up to you.”

“You mean with sex?”

She grinned. “Yes, with sex.”

“With me, or with Maya?”

Rachel’s smile vanished. “Can we not bring Maya into this? Yes, I think she’s cute; yes, we kissed and she got really into it, but that was as far as it went. I’ve kissed other people before, I've never seen you so jealous before.”

“That’s because you’ve never brought them home afterward.”

“She walked me home!” Rachel exploded, “It was late and I didn’t want to walk home alone and I was trying to let you sleep! I wanted to let you sleep.” She breathed in calmly. “Yes, we kissed. And she walked me home. Separate incidents, same person.”

Bertie folded his arms, fidgeting in his seat. “And if I’m not comfortable with that coincidence?”

“That’s your right, that’s absolutely your right. But we’re adults, we talk things out, and we set boundaries. Together.”

He sat quietly as she fought for composure, knowing that if he were to talk, he’d be little better. His anger at her from the night before had faded with sleep, he was still - disappointed, maybe? – with how she’d behaved, but she wasn’t being unreasonable. And somehow that made it all worse. If she lost her temper, if she started screaming like a child, then the moral high ground was all his.

Returning to the conversation, he belatedly added, “Talking things out. That’s what we're doing now.”

“Right. After you decided to spank me in front of my friend.”

His face flushed crimson. “First of all, I didn’t know she’d come back. And second, you were the one who staggered home like a drunken club girl, covered in someone else’s lipstick - fine, I'll let it go, but you've been… punished for acting like that before, so have I. Or have you forgotten?”

“I remember just fine. I remember the first time you spanked me was because you were mad that I teased you at my family dinner and you couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t sexy for me, and it hurt. And I remember it was years before I let you do that again, and it was because I wanted you to. It wasn’t because I deserved it, or because you said I had to. Because I wanted it.” She inhaled sharply and rubbed her sinuses. She laid her hand on his leg. She gave him a tender grasp. “Maybe we need to stop.”

“Stop what?” he heard himself asking, but he could feel dread washing over him, implicitly he knew what she was going to say.

“With the spanking. Maybe we both like it – at times – but we don’t get the same things out of it. We sit down and talk when there’s a problem. So here goes: I’m sorry that I made out with Maya last night. Even if it felt harmless at the time, I made that call without you and I understand why you felt betrayed.”

She gestured to him with her free hand, waiting.

“I’m sorry I spanked you, honey. It was… uncalled for—no, it was wrong. It was just wrong.” Inside his head, visions from the night before, him smacking her pale bottom in the dark as she wiggled and pressed against him, darkened and vanished. Those delightful moments had been cheapened, stolen from her, and he knew it.

Silence followed. It was a short admission, but it was all he’d had to say. And as she leaned over and kissed him, he realized that it was all he needed to hear. Her lips were light on his, but behind them he could feel a heat, and he pressed back into her. They battled for a moment, each on the edge of their chairs, and then she stood up and took his shoulders. They broke for only a moment and then she melted back into him, her tongue dancing across his palate.

A moment later, they both came up for air. She brushed a tear out of her eye.

“You want me,” she whispered into his ear. He couldn’t hide the fact that his erection was plainly visible under his T-shirt. He blushed. Even though they’d fought only moments ago, even his loins were feeling the elation of having come out stronger together. And while he’d do anything for her, right now his mind was beginning to focus on what he might do to her.

He stood up, his hands weaving through the folds over her robe, exposing her tightening nipples. Reaching down her back, he clasped her buttocks in both hands, giving them a little squeeze, and then – perhaps pushing his luck – a smack as well.

She grabbed his hands. “I said we should stop.”

“Mm. You said maybe.”

She looked up at him, her breath still heavy. “Bertie, I need to know I can trust you.” She let one hand go and lowered her hand to his shaft, stroking gently. “If I can’t, you’ve got a lot more at risk than not getting to spank me.”

Bertie grimaced, “This is manipulative.”

“This is me having your attention. I know how much you love having me over your knee…” she bit his ear with the last word, and he groaned, “But that gives you a lot of power over me. You have to be responsible.”

He tried again to reach back to the warm flesh of her ass. This time, she didn’t stop him. He pulled her close, his tongue embracing hers.

“Do you want to spank me again?” she questioned. He kneaded her cheeks in his hands, and nodded vigorously if that answer hadn’t been good enough. She grinned.

“Then there’s something you have to do for me first…”

***

The sound of rushing water drowned out any indication of what Rachel was doing in the next room, and the thought continued to prey on Bertie as he worked. In any case, he had a lot of work still to do, and Rachel would have to wait. He gulped. Making her wait might not work best for him.

Scraping the last flecks of shaving cream away, he shut off the sink, staring for the moment as his hair collected in the strainer. He threw it out, then toweled off. It was time.

A moment later, he lay stretched out, his body across and perpendicular to hers. Being much taller than Rachel, his fingers and toes touched the floor, one of the few things keeping him aloft as Rachel adjusted his pose from her chair, trying to alleviate the weight of his body. Ordinarily, she’d have taken him to the couch.

The robe had begun to slip, and he felt the caress of her bare thighs under his own. She hadn’t even needed to take off his pants this time. The shifting stopped. Slowly, she spread her fingernails against his flesh, drawing little circles with the tips.

“Rachel,” he squeaked, “I have to work this afternoon…”

She shushed him. “And I’m sure you can do your job standing up. I’m enjoying this. Don’t rush me.” She smacked his jutting bottom once, just to emphasize the point. The shock rippled through to his crotch, and he stiffened between her legs. He’d made her wait, it seemed that she had decided to do the same. She was rubbing her thighs together, wasn’t she? It was nearly imperceptible, but he could swore— he tried in vain to clear his head. The anticipation was driving him mad.

Without a further word, she began, a hard series of slaps directly on the meeting of his thighs and buttocks. The sting was immediate and intense, and he might have pitched forward had he not pushed out to balance. Of course, with his hands occupied with the task of keeping himself off the ground, there was nothing to protect his tender behind. In the corner of his vision he could see her arm rise and fall, each impact rocking his entire body in a rhythm of heightened agony.

Sometimes, in previous spankings, she had been patient; other times teasing. But this time, she had chosen to be merciless.

He could not have been on her lap for very long. He was much bigger than Rachel, and his awkward pose meant that she was putting almost as much effort into holding him down as she was into punishing him. But none of that felt to him like she was holding back. As she released him, slowly letting him drop to the floor, his ass cheeks were on fire. Kneeling on the floor, he let one hand roam across his seared back end while the other rubbed his wet eyes.

Rachel took his head in her hand and kissed him full on the lips. “Thank you,” she whispered. It seemed that her trust had been won, if not without painful cost.

He managed a weak, “You’re welcome.”

Rachel shifted in her seat, her robe slipping down over her shoulder, revealing the curves of her chest and torso in all of their beauty. She wiped away an errant tear and gently cradled his genitals in her hands. Unbidden, his neglected cock began to swell again.

“It looks like I wasn’t too hard on you after all.”

“Says you,” he replied with a wince, “I don’t think I could take any more of that.”

“Liar.” She shook her head. “I’ll tell you what, if you get back over my knee – right now – then you can have me doggy-style right here on the carpet.”

She spread her legs, and he caught the scent of her moist crotch. He gave the matter only the most cursory thought, but his destination was never in doubt.