Bertie sat waiting, even if he hadn’t known where he was. The room was spacious and gray, the carpet was gray (With a spiral pattern if one looked closely enough), and he sat in one of two gray armless chairs that faced a desk.

He assumed it was an office, though he couldn’t tell whose office it was. Not his own, of course, as a restaurant manager he was lucky if he could fit two people seated comfortably. He couldn’t see any windows in the room, but he felt that he was above ground level. It would be some kind of complex, then. He felt for some reason that he should be in his uniform. Instead, he’d arrived in a polo shirt and cargo shorts that still showed off more of his thin and hairy limbs than he might have felt comfortable.

He did not know why he was there.

And as that thought registered, so did another, that if he were to look to his right, he would find the seat beside him wasn’t empty after all. Following that thought, he found a tall black woman of about his own age staring at the floor as he had done, tapping her fingers on her bare knees. Like him, she’d come dressed for the weather, but unlike Bertie she had no compunction about baring her legs. He resisted the urge that drew his eyes toward the brief denim from which those thighs emerged, forcing his gaze upward instead. She looked worried. She looked… familiar.

“Sophie?”

Years ago, they’d been coworkers and the most intimate of friends. There had been a tantalizing flash of something more, but Bertie had found Rachel in the meantime and Sophie had never gone any further than teasing… except once. He’d accidentally let slip that he sometimes spanked his girlfriend, and she decided in the spirit of sisterly fairness that he should know what it felt like. And while Bertie had resisted at first, it was a watershed moment for him, when being over a woman’s knee went from fantasy to realized desire.

It was shocking to find out, months later, that it had never actually happened. Oh, it was true that he’d lost a bet with Sophie and that she’d threatened to spank him, but she never carried through. His recollection of the scene was infallible, but she never brought it up, not even in private. To her, it simply didn’t exist. And for Bertie, the memory faded away in time as he and Rachel indulged in their own little adventures.

He and Sophie hadn’t spoken in years. And yet they were together again, for reasons he still didn’t know. She certainly didn’t seem comfortable with him being there. Something else was going on…

The door whisked open behind Bertie, startling him and admitting a slight, officious-looking woman in a steel-coloured blouse and a white skirt. She moved mechanically, with purpose, to the seat behind the desk. Only once she was still could Bertie get much of a read on her face. She was somewhere between thirty and fifty, if he had to guess. She wore her hair in a severe bun containing a few wisps of white, but her smooth skin and high cheekbones made him wonder if he’d estimated too high.

He drew nothing from her eyes, framed in thick cat’s-eye lenses and made invisible by the glare of the fluorescent lights above them. Were it not for the way she fixed her gaze on Sophie and himself, he might have thought she was blind.

She did not offer any greeting or handshake. “Thank you for coming,” she started, “I’m here on behalf of Designer Restaurants Group, your franchise’s parent. I believe you know why both of you are here?” She waited for a response, but Bertie had none to give. The woman – Bertie saw a plaque on the desk in front of her marked ‘LIST’ – leaned over to the monitor on her desk and turned it around. She pressed a button.

The video was grainy, taken in a dark and cramped room. Squinting, Bertie could see a set of panels against the back wall. They might have been lockers. The only movement he could detect was what looked like a black arm, moving rhythmically up and down. Every once in a while a white foot would enter the bottom of the frame. There was no sound, so he couldn’t tell what was going on. He looked over at Sophie. She gulped and nodded.

Oh, no, he thought. It was real.

List froze the video. “We were made aware of this incident about a week ago. Despite the time that has passed since, both of you are still working for DRG, albeit in different facilities since. You can’t see much in the footage, but if you rewind…” she pressed another button, “you get a much clearer image of the two of you entering the room.”

Fighting down the blush that rose from his throat, Bertie managed to speak. “The restaurant isn’t authorized to film employees in the change room.”

“Normally, you’d be correct. This recording was brought to us by one of your former employees. I’m told that she set up her camera to catch whoever she believed was going through her purse while she was working – it seems she caught this behavior instead. This is you being spanked by your associate here, I’m correct?”

The nonchalant way she said the word “spanked” made Bertie’s throat close up.

List continued. “You don’t need to confirm that. Miss Sophie here admitted to the whole thing already. If you’re going to tell me that this video won’t hold up in court, that it doesn’t contain any crime that is taking place, you’re right. We have no interest in taking this to a trial. But you committed a sex act on company property, and we have a precedent for that – both of you are dismissed. Immediately. Your checks will be mailed.”

It didn’t really happen, it didn’t really happen, Bertie told himself, but his assurances were getting weaker each time.

“Wait, ma’am,” Sophie piped up, “I never said that we were having sex.”

“I can see you removing at least some layers of clothing from your former boss. I think we can extrapolate from there.”

“No, you can’t,” said Bertie suddenly. “I’m sorry, but with respect you’re reading too much into this. There was a challenge made, Sophie had said that my waiting abilities had atrophied since working in the office. I maintained that they hadn’t. The deal was that the winner would, um, assign discipline to the loser.”

List frowned behind her glasses. “And by ‘assign discipline’, you mean spank over the knee.”

“Yes,” said Bertie, blushing furiously.

“And your skills were found wanting, I see.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You lost the bet.”

He caught of glimpse of Sophie’s smirk in his peripheral vision, but he kept his eyes on List in front of him. He nodded, then added, “But it was close, and very well could have gone the other way.”

“You’re lucky it didn’t,” said List, “Considering that you outranked Sophie at the time, that would have been abuse of your position. As it stands, you’re telling me that this is what, horseplay?”

“Essentially.” He saw Sophie nodding in assent as well. “We’re both sorry for any potential embarrassment to the company, but this was in a private setting and there was no damage done. I see don’t see that warranting dismissal.”

List tapped her fingers on the desk, and Bertie held his breath. There was nothing to do but wait as she deliberated.

“I’m tempted to agree. Only two people other than ourselves have seen the video, a member of our IT department and the original complainant, and neither of them can identify the two of you. As far as I’m concerned, DRG is indemnified.”

It took Bertie a moment to parse the woman’s ambiguous corporate-speak. Sophie was the first to break the silence. “So we are we fired or not?”

“Well, that’s the tricky part,” said List slowly, “Both of you were senior staff at the time of the incident, which would invoke serious disciplinary measures. But we can’t proceed with any formal discipline without having to acknowledge that it happened in the first place, which defeats the point.”

Bertie winced, already guessing where she was heading with this. “You said you couldn’t proceed with formal discipline. What about informally?”

For the first time, List smiled, showing impeccably white teeth. He’d almost been expecting fangs. “Very good. Yes, we could settle the matter here and now, or else we turn the evidence of your misconduct over to your respective franchisees to deal with as they see fit.”

“I’d lose my position,” whispered Sophie. Bertie considered his own options for only a second, his position as a manager had already been made redundant when his supervisor had returned from maternity leave. He wasn’t in the most secure position to try his boss’ forgiveness.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Should you consent, I expect that you will both undress and submit yourselves to spankings over my knee. It seems only appropriate.” The movement at the side of her mouth might have been a smirk, he wasn’t sure. “After all, you’ve assured me that there’s no sexual aspect to this kind of punishment. Right?”

He hesitated, but Sophie immediately stood up and loosened the fly on her shorts, shimmying her hips until the tight denim finally gave up its grip.

“Are we doing this?” she asked.

Bertie fumbled at his own shorts, dropping them slowly to the ground. List took his newly vacated chair, giving an approving nod to Sophie’s scant thong, but insisting that Bertie remove his boxers entirely. After a moment’s contemplation, she beckoned to Sophie.

“I think I’ll handle you first, dear. Your friend was the senior employee at the time, even if you both should have known better. We’ll get this nice and over with.” She took the much taller woman by the arm, lowering her carefully into place across her knees. Sophie’s ample behind rose in front of Bertie, a perfect pair of earthen hills split by the narrow strip of pink fabric. His hands dropped defensively to his penis.

“One further matter,” List announced, raising her arm, “All meetings conducted in this office are recorded as a matter of course and saved to my own personal hard drive. This will be no different. Should you require a copy of today’s session, I can provide it for you by end of business this week.” Before Sophie could protest, she brought down her hand with astonishing speed. Her palm met Sophie’s upturned buttocks with a resounding smack. Closing the door was only a courtesy; everyone on the floor would have heard that. 

As they would hear what was still to happen to Bertie.

List continued her task with a grim efficiency, and her victim’s bottom rippled from the force of her assault. For her part, Sophie grit her teeth and rode it out, even as her backside lit up and the noise echoed outside of the office. Convinced that she’d made an impression on Sophie, List changed her approach. She abandoned the breakneck pace with which she’d started, moving onto slower and more deliberate strikes that didn’t overlook the top of Sophie’s thighs.

Bertie was hypnotized. He’d cast more than one offhand glance toward his friend’s posterior in their time together, but the time had long past when he could have imagined seeing her in such a position. As she wiggled and groaned in place over List’s lap, he didn’t even try to look away.

List noticed his fixation.

“Don’t get too comfortable watching, Bertram,” she warned between swats, “Your turn is coming.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded automatically. List never even looked up.

The next few minutes passed in silence, save for the metronome of slaps and Sophie’s squeaks and moans as she fought to keep her composure. By the time that List decided that she was done, the poor girl’s behind was swollen with a scarlet undercoat. Sophie jumped to her feet, her eyes damp, clutching at her cheeks.

List folded her arms across her chest. “I hope that this lesson will stick with you, young lady.”

“Yes, it will,” hissed Sophie. “I don’t think I’ll be sitting until Sunday.”

“Then I’ll suppose you’ll have to stand in the corner until I’m done with your friend here.” She smiled to Bertie and patted her lap. “It’s your turn, young man.”

All of the eyes in the room focused on him. He didn’t have a stitch on, with only a gesture to lend him any sense of dignity. No, not dignity – it was modesty he stood a literal hand’s breadth from losing.

A knock sounded at the door.

List sat up. “Yes?”

A wavering voice spoke up from behind the barrier, “I need a signature for delivery, ma’am.” After a moment, it added, “Whenever you’re able.” There was hesitation in the courier’s voice – he or she must have arrived just in time for Stephanie’s crescendo and wasn’t sure if they should complete the delivery or walk away and pretend they hadn’t heard anything.

“One moment, please,” called List. Discreetly dropping her voice, she turned to Sophie and said, “You may put your shorts back on and take a seat.” She turned away before the girl could protest and fixed her spectacles on Bertie. “And you, get over here. Now.”

Bertie gaped in open-mouthed silence. List sighed, and he could almost see her eyes rolling behind the glass.

“Yes, I realize that you’ll be giving our visitor quite an eyeful. But—and I can’t believe I have to say this—they won’t be able to see your face.” Without further ado, she grasped Bertie by the wrist and pulled him over, delivering a sharp couple of slaps to his fanny as he fell into her lap.

She gestured to Sophie, and Bertie heard the door open. A pair of thick work boots stepped on to the carpet and then froze in place.

“I… I can come back,” stuttered the hapless courier.

List sat up, and Bertie felt his torso shift with her movement. “Nonsense. This will only take a moment.” He felt a tickle from her sleeve as her arm drew over him, and she set a proffered clipboard down on his back. Taking a pen from the courier as well, she made a couple of quick marks and gave both back to their owner.

The courier hesitated. Bertie didn’t have to see their face to imagine the eyes set on the hairy bottom perched in front of List. He tried to draw his head into his neck, to disappear into himself like a frightened turtle.

“You may go,” said List, “I have a very full schedule.” To make her point, she brought down her hand down full force on Bertie’s decidedly defenseless hide. He howled despite himself, and the courier scrambled out of the room, slamming the door on the way.

If List noticed the courier’s exit, it didn’t show. Making Bertie sorry was her only focus, and she delivered. He’d watched as Sophie’s bottom had been reddened, telling himself that he’d been the subject of harder punishments from his fiancée, that the petite woman didn’t have the strength or stamina. But unlike him, Sophie had lived with being spanked from childhood, and he could see that the diminutive Ms. List had made an impression on her.

And she was making an impression on him. What started out as discomfort flared into agony as she began to strike the same spots for the second and third times, then without missing a beat moved to the top part of his thighs. He moaned, fighting with all his strength to keep from sliding off the chair, but the woman was merciless. Sophie watched from the sidelines, averting her gaze in sympathy.

List suddenly drew short. Bertie let out a ragged breath, but his relief died in an instant as List’s pointed fingers scraped against his backside.

“Bertram, is that an erection I feel on my thigh?”

He sputtered as her touch traced down his crack, and he clenched reflexively. He could feel his hardness as he moved, and there was no way that she could not. List tittered and swatted him hard on a well-warmed flank.

“I’m not impressed,” she said in a tone that curdled his stomach. “You assured me that was no sexual implication to this punishment. If you’ve been lying to me, this compromise is off the table. I don’t have to tell you what that means.”

Rubbing her own braised backside on the chair beside them, Sophie leveled a glare that might have cut through glass.

“Friction,” he sputtered unthinkingly. “From... being pressed against…”

List nodded. “I think I understand. Stand up, please.”

He did as he was told. No sooner did he reconnect with the ground beneath him than a new fire lanced up the back of his thighs. He bit his lip, trying not to show, but List was more interested in the reaction of his lower half. She placed a hand against his scalded bottom and whistled. She then leaned over, inspecting the protuberance in front. After a moment, she smoothed her skirt and left the seat.

He dared to hope that she’d done enough damage, that now she was content and he could go home. He didn’t care for the thought of sitting in his car at this point – any sitting at all, really – but his ordeal was done.

“Kneel on the chair, Bertram,” she said, and his hopes evaporated. She angled the seat in front of her, whispering something about the camera, and waited for him to assume the position. His head lit up with a cacophony of warnings, every instinct telling that he shouldn’t listen, that he should run while he can. No matter what the cost or humiliation.

None of those voices stopped him from doing exactly as she told him to do. Facing the wall, he couldn’t see the look on List’s bespectacled face, but he could feel the satisfaction at his compliance radiating off her. A drawer squeaked behind him, and he heard a shuffle as List excavated some unspeakably terrible contraption from its depths. The drawer squeaked again.

She gave his bottom an appreciative squeeze, her nails finding purchase deep into his skin. He grimaced, barely avoiding a yell.

“That’s a pretty flat ass you’re stacked with,” noted List, her voice huskier now. She turned to Sophie and added, “White boys, right?”

Sophie had nothing to say, and List leaned over so that Bertie could see her, a hint of cleavage peeking from the top of her blouse.

“What say we get this started? I don’t like having to fast-forward to get to the good bits.”

The reminder that he was being recorded did little to calm Bertie, but it wasn’t supposed to. She punctuated the question with a flick of her wrist, and a line of pain bit into Bertie’s rear as a hissing smack reverberated through the office.

This time he couldn’t help but cry out, useless though it was. List was ready, pressing her hand into the small of his back, keeping him in position even as she struck again in quick succession, leaving two more tapered marks. He kicked, but he had no leverage to leave that chair until List decided he was done – and that was the furthest thing from her mind.

Less than a minute passed before she told him to lean back, though it felt like a flaming eternity. She prodded his cock with her instrument – a thin wooden ruler, he could see now – and smiled as the limp organ rolled aside.

“I didn’t want you to misinterpret what I was doing,” List smiled. Bertie’s hands flew back to rub his scalded cheeks, but List tut-tutted, rapping him on the knuckles with the ruler. With considerable restraint, he placed both hands on the back of the chair.

There was a beep as the camera disengaged.

“That will be all,” List announced, “You’re free to dress and leave if you like. If you feel the need to compose yourself, I suggest you stand in the corner.”

“Like bad kids?” Sophie grumbled, with more insolence than Bertie would have mustered. He could see her wincing as she moved in her tight pants, but it was clear that she wouldn’t be sticking around.

Bertie, however, was going to take List up on her offer, her infantilizing be damned. His marks were too fresh, his backside too sore to even imagine putting clothes back on. Sophie gave him a curt nod in farewell and opened the door.

A small crowd had gathered, no doubt following the faint sounds that had escaped the office. When Sophie opened the door, her eyes still damp and bracing her steps, she was confirming the thoughts of the wiser or kinkier of the onlookers. Caught, they all spurred themselves into movement, trying to look inconspicuous or at the very least avoid eye contact with the recently punished woman standing in the doorway. But Sophie turned up her chin and strode out of the office like a queen, slamming the door behind her.

Once the echo had subsided, Bertie inched off of the chair, each movement stoking the same raging fire in his backside. He dried his eyes and turned to List, only to find her attention had drifted back to her computer. He was no longer a fixture of her attention. And perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing.

He dressed in silence, save for his boxers, deciding that the risks of going commando were far outweighed by the certain agony of elastic pressed against his aching cheeks. By the time he dared peek out the office door, he saw the coast was more or less clear, with only a few workers at nearby desks or walking the floor. Either List’s subordinates had other things to do, or they too had simply lost interest. He could only hope for the latter, but he knew that there would be suspicious glances and the occasional shushed comment passed his way as he left. There would be more, he reminded himself, if he wasn’t able to keep his blush under control.

He paused at the threshold. Perhaps taking note of his hesitation, List looked up from her monitor. For the first time, Bertie could glimpse the color that the glare had previously hidden – her eyes were green.

“Is there something else I can do to you?” she asked coyly.

It took a further moment for him to make out the words. “You said you could, um, you said you could make copies…”

She turned back to the computer and clicked the mouse once.

“Done. All you had to do was ask.”

***

Bertie rolled onto his stomach, cushioning his burgeoning cock with the sheets. He’d heard those words before, or words like them, back when he’d first blushingly confessed to Rachel that he wanted her to spank him. It didn’t figure it was coincidence that his subconscious was regurgitating them now.

He reached out beside him, to find Rachel gone. It wasn’t unusual for her to come to bed long after he had, he reminded himself. Maybe she just needed a drink of water. He was pressing to talk about the dream he’d had, but thinking of it now, he couldn’t begin to imagine how he would start that conversation. Nor was he sure what he’d taken from it. Was the dream a little erotic detour, a flight of fancy? Was this even something that Rachel would be receptive to?

What if she also fantasized about being spanked for an audience?

He dismissed the thought out of hand. Rachel was a performer, but as vivacious as she seemed, he’d discovered back when they started dating that she was fairly reserved, certainly not an exhibitionist. She’d told him as much after he’d (accidentally) spanked her in front of one of her friends. His own bottom had ended up blushing after that.

Of course, she’d invited him to spank her in front of Maya again just weeks after. Maybe…

Maybe…

What did he know?

He would just have to find out. In fact, he decided, he was going to put it to her directly once she’d settled back in bed with him.

“Are you awake, honey?”

She stood in her doorway, the light from the next room glinting on her bare breasts. She chewed absently on a fistful of popcorn.

“Mm, yeah.” He cleared his throat, “Listen, I just had this weird dream…”

“Really? Me too…”

They both paused, waiting for the other.