From the notes of Dr. Kelsey Ransom, PsyD

Today I terminated my relationship with Rachel and Bertie.

The couple has completed what I would consider the standard period of couple’s therapy, and even though our sessions have uncovered some skeletons in their closet (See previous notes), they continue to look forward to the future. They know that further challenges will present themselves, and they are interested in pursuing further therapy – for the record, I declined.

I told them that further counseling would be counterproductive. While the connection between the two of them is strong, its strength has come at the cost of their other relationships. Loss of contact with friends and family, exacerbated by the still-recent pandemic, risks turning their relationship co-dependent. This is a cycle I’ve seen in several patients their age (Our age, I suppose).

Some discretion here: I informed them that I knew of a support group of sorts for people of their particular interests and could give them this group’s contacts, but it was essential that if they were to attend that I can no longer be their therapist.

Bertie seemed to have some idea what I was implying, but remained silent. Rachel inquired if I would still be accessible to them if they required further counseling later on; I told her this would not be possible. I would be severing my role for them either way – but if they chose, I could introduce them to some people who might help them through the days to come.

They agreed, and we made an appointment – for once, an informal one – for the next Monday evening.

Kelsey examined their hair for a final time in the inactive monitor. They’d just had the side cut trimmed, and it was more severe than they were used to – but they had to admit, the change looked sharp. Authoritative, even.

Good. Just the look they would need tonight.

They’d hemmed and hawed for hours over their wardrobe. As a therapist, Kelsey preferred fleece jackets or sweaters for this time of year – not only was their office never warm enough, but also because the soft fabrics tended to put their patients at ease. They’d lost more than one who hadn’t been able to look past the piercings and general androgyny.

Tonight they’d loosened up – even opened up the top button of their shirt to show off the Victorian locket tattooed on their collarbone. The artist had done such fine work that Kelsey hated to cover it up. In addition, the vest had been a good call, not only in creating air of professionalism, but also in flattering Kelsey’s… “rounded” figure.

The screen on their phone read 6:47. They’d given Bertie and Rachel a time of seven, but if their sessions were any indication it was a toss-up as to whether Bertie’s habitual punctuality or Rachel’s frequent lateness would win the day. Best then to be prepared.

They switched on the monitor. Instantly the screen split into six, each monitoring the feed from one of the security cameras mounted in the shop above. Officially Oubliette closed for six PM, but it would open late once a week for members only. While that would typically be Thursday night… the two guests tonight weren’t members.

At least for now.

Behind the register, Sherrie looked up at the camera and gave Kelsey a thumbs-up. The skinny redhead in the rock band tee had owned the shop for over twenty years, and had run the after-hours club for eighteen of those, but she never lost enthusiasm for meeting new prospects. Her high-wattage grin shone even in the grainy security footage.

Kelsey smiled back and returned the thumbs-up, knowing Sherrie couldn’t see them. The intercom crackled.

“I think I see someone pulling up. You about gussied up down there?”

“I don’t know, Sherrie. Do you think I should go for the turtleneck instead?”

“You got a shell to go with it, be my guest. Over.”

She left the register, vanishing from one screen to the next as she stepped in front of the entrance.

Kelsey had seen this conversation played out before: Sherrie would tell the newcomers that the store was closed, the newcomers would respond by giving her the name of their sponsor, Sherrie would pretend not to know the name, the newcomer would repeat the name...

On cue, Sherrie opened the door.

The resolution of the cameras couldn’t always be counted on, but Kelsey could swear that Bertie turned beet red under his beard as he stepped into the shop. Oubliette’s window display was purposely tame for public viewing – some lingerie, handcuffs, a ceramic bust modeling a gimp mask – but once a customer walked in, all bets were off. The crucified and very naked mannequin on a St. Andrew’s cross tended to grab their attention the way it had grabbed Bertie’s.

Rachel, for her part, acted more comfortable, and immediately started a conversation with Sherrie about her band shirt. No doubt Sherrie was regaling the younger woman about the time she’d seen their act in the nineties when they were just three fresh-faced young brothers from Calgary and nobody knew how big they were going to get.

It was a talent that Kelsey envied, how Sherrie could put even the most nervous or repressed people at ease. Under the wig and garish makeup, Sherrie had the keenest emotional intelligence of anyone that Kelsey had ever met – even in their own profession. And she made it look effortless – Sherrie had described it herself as a “cool aunt vibe”.

Drawing their attention back to the screen, Kelsey watched as Sherrie showed the couple some of the store’s selection of toys and outfits. Rachel in particular seemed to show interest in some of the corsets, but Sherrie would tell her that any shopping would have to be done during regular hours. She turned past a sign marked “STAIRS” and knocked three times.

Despite their following on the screen, they were caught by surprise when the knocks boomed down from the heavy steel door above them. Kelsey hurried to their feet, their role in this play was about to begin.

Rachel and Bertie came off the steps with their mouths agape. Kelsey had the same reaction, so long ago – the aptly-named Red Room appeared massive, as large as the showroom floor above. Much of the space was open for members to move around, but the room was anchored on either side by a trestle bench and a cross much like the one on display above. Stools of various size ringed each scene.

Coat racks dotted the walls, but instead of clothing they were hung with whips, paddles and even more exotic toys. At the far side of the room were a series of unadorned recesses lit with black lights.

“Welcome,” said Kelsey.

Bertie couldn’t tear his gaze from the scenery. “What is this place?”

“It’s a dungeon,” said Rachel matter-of-factly.

“Seeing as she’s my dungeon, I’d rather you called her the Red Room,” Sherrie corrected, “But she’ll forgive you being as it’s your first time.” The soft reprimand drew a blush out of Rachel. “Kelsey, you want to run them through the rules?”

“Thanks, Sherrie. First of all, this is a safe space. No one here will ask you to do anything you don’t consent to, and we make note of everyone’s safe words.” They pointed to a whiteboard beside a row of canes, on which various club members had written beside their names words such as “redline”, “apricot” and “seven”.

“Once you’ve established a safe word, add it to the board. Change it up if you need to. If you violate someone else’s consent, you’re out and you’re banned.” They added that last bit for Rachel’s benefit. She’d been one of Hugo Caine’s girls, according to Sherrie’s sources, and while Kelsey had never met the man himself, his reputation was notorious.

Kelsey moved on. “Secondly, we have cameras throughout the shop for security, but no recording devices are permitted in this space. This includes your phones, and I’ll ask that you put them in the drawer beside you.” They gestured to the curio cabinet at the foot of the stairs. The couple’s body language still read as uncertain, but they both opened their pockets and complied.

“On a related note, during meetings the door will need to remain closed for sound-proofing. Please do not feel trapped here, as scary as it looks, it opens quite easily.

 “The third and final rule is what we like to call ‘Save it for the Bedroom’! Some people find the activities we do here very exciting… but understand there is to be no sex in the dungeon.”

“Don’t you mean the Red Room?” teased Rachel.

Kelsey grinned. “Someone’s paying attention.”

Bertie’s mind was still catching up. “Have you been doing this all the time we’ve been in therapy?”

“I’m more of a part-time member now, but during grad school I moonlighted as a dominatrix,” Kelsey admitted. “One of my clients recommended me for membership. I wasn’t really sure I was member material, but Sherrie took me under her wing.”

“Don’t let the doc sell you short,” said Sherrie, “I vet all of the members here, and this one’s not only kept good standing, but has even taught some classes here.”

“Classes?”

Kelsey nodded. “How to role play, mostly, but I also do a course on shibari. I don’t know if that falls into your area of interest, but we serve all kinds here.”

Rachel’s eyes lit up at the mention of Japanese rope bondage, and Kelsey made a mental note for later. Bertie didn’t seem entirely sold, and his eyes wandered the room.

“Is there a reason you had us bring swimsuits? I thought there might be a pool or hot tub here.”

Kelsey and Sherrie exchanged glances. Kelsey opened, “Well, we were hoping you might like to try some of the amenities…”

Sherrie cut them off. “What the doc’s trying to say is that we know you’re both into spanking, and we’d like to give you a little housewarming present – emphasis on the warming, of course.”

“We’re aware that not everyone is going to be comfortable with nudity,” Kelsey explained, “And more people are likely to have swimwear than lingerie. Your level of exposure is up to you.”

After the last weeks spent with the couple, Kelsey expected further negotiation from Bertie before anything was decided. Much to their surprise, Rachel immediately doffed her jacket and shirt to reveal a bright yellow Pokémon bikini underneath.

“Come on, live a little,” she urged her shocked boyfriend.

Kelsey remembered Rachel mentioning that she had tattoos, but had only ever seen the sparrow inked under her clavicle – their eyes were drawn to the image on her nearest shoulder, depicting a bloodsoaked lovers’ embrace that put them in mind of an album cover.

Sherrie let out a whistle as Rachel shimmied out of her jeans. “Aren’t you just a little cutie! And oh my, the butt on you - I bet you drive all the boys wild.”

“The one, anyway,” smirked Rachel, wiggling her rear enticingly in Bertie’s direction. After a moment’s hesitation, he joined her in trunks that were a size too small, though he’d elected to keep his T-shirt on.

While waiting for the pair to finish undressing, Kelsey and Sherrie had pushed a pair of stools back-to-back.  Kelsey had been considering how to partner themselves up since the last therapy session, but one look at the glow in Sherrie’s face told them that the decision had been made for them.

“Ooh, it’s already getting hot down here,” said Sherrie, fanning her face dramatically. “Tell me, Rachel, honey, have you been a good girl or a bad girl?”

“I try to be a good girl...” Rachel pouted.

“That’s fine, your Auntie Sherrie knows how to treat good girls, too. You go ahead and get over my lap. There you are. Comfy?”

Kelsey forced themself to turn their attention toward Bertie, who still looked as though he was considering a run for it.

“Doctor Ransom… is this some kind of therapy?”

“No,” Kelsey answered, “This is something that like-minded and consenting adults do for… fun, I guess? Everybody brings their own reasons into it. But believe me, Rachel and yourself are far from alone. Remember, I won’t do anything to you that you don’t consent to.”

“Make him ask for it!” chirped Rachel, only to receive a hush from Sherrie.

Kelsey studied Bertie’s expression. Their sessions had revealed that for as much as Bertie enjoyed the activity of spanking, the word itself was a kind of trigger. 

A calculated risk, then. They fixed their gaze with his.

“Do you have something to ask me?”

Bertie smacked his dry lips. “Will you please…”

“Yes?”

“Will you please put me over your knee and…”

“…And?”

It all came out in a rush. “Will you please put me over your knee and spank me?”

Rachel clapped awkwardly from her perch on Sherrie’s lap, and Sherrie picked up the applause as well. Despite his obvious embarrassment, Bertie smiled.  

Kelsey patted him on the back. “Yes, I imagine I can do that.” With a bit of pressure, the pat became something more insistent, and Bertie buckled, falling into place over Kelsey’s knees.

“Are we all set, then?” Sherrie asked.

“Uh-huh!”

“I think so.”

Sherrie and Kelsey raised their hands together and brought them down, eliciting a meaty splat from both of their targets. Both Bertie and Rachel were experienced spankees, but Kelsey had little to go on regarding comfort level or tolerance.

They suspected that Bertie for one was more inclined toward the disciplinary experience, and they kept their smacks firm and spaced out, allowing the impact from one blow to subside before applying the next. Bertie took the spanking stoically, and Kelsey wasn’t sure if they were having an effect or not.

Sherrie, in the meantime, had no such issue. Rachel was a very vocal submissive, punctuating each slap with an “ooh!” or an “ouch!” When Sherrie asked her if that was what she was accustomed to, Rachel eagerly lifted her bottom up for more.

It occurred to Kelsey that Sherrie had picked the better submissive, and then shook that thought from their head. Their first impression of Rachel had been that she was shy and withdrawn – and comparing that image against the grown woman gleefully wiggling over Sherrie’s lap was laughable. The truth was that Rachel, like anyone, could be downright adventurous provided that she felt secure and supported.

 “I’m not sure I’m getting through to you,” Kelsey found themself saying, “Am I getting through to you, young man?”

Bertie perked up at the mention of ‘young man’.

“Yes, sir! Er, ma’am?”

“Doctor will be fine. Are you ready to continue, then?”

Feigning reluctance, he nodded slowly. Kelsey went back to work, concentrating on his sit spots, finally to be rewarded with a startled yelp.

Sherrie decided to let up for a moment, and switched to rubbing her hands over Rachel’s generous backside.

“How was that for a warm-up, darling?”

“Whoo! Auntie Sherrie, can I ask you something?”

“Well, since you called me Auntie Sherrie, I’ll give. What is it?”

“Um… how do I say this? When Bertie spanks me, he always…” She trailed off to a mumble, inaudible beneath the sounds of smacking beside her.

“Kelsey, hold up a minute!” She let Rachel back up to her feet, failing to resist the urge to squeeze the younger woman’s protruding cheek. “Now, what does your boyfriend do? Does he take your panties down, little missy?”

Rachel bit her lip and nodded.

“Are you telling me that you’re going to dare to be bare?”

“Yes…”

“That doesn’t sound like enthusiastic consent to me.”

“Yes, Auntie Sherrie.”

Kelsey watched with awe as Sherrie reached out to an unresisting Rachel and carefully peeled off her bikini bottoms, never breaking eye contact until the material came to rest in a bunch at Rachel’s knees. A foreign sensation nudged them in the thigh, and they noticed Bertie’s full attention had been drawn back to his nearly naked girlfriend.

They gently pushed his head back down as the smacking started up again from the opposite pair. “Rachel’s in very good hands. As are you, if you’re willing to enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll try.” Kelsey raised their hand again, then froze as Bertie added, “You really were a domme?”

“It’s been a long time, but yes. Why do you ask?”

“I just wouldn’t have thought so. Your technique is very… sterile might be the word?”

They blinked. Did he just criticize-

“No, wait. I mean analytical. Sorry!”

-Wait. He was bratting. Now, a brat was something they could deal with.

“Bertie, are you familiar with the parable of the boy who played with fire?”

Bertie wasn’t comfortable taking down his pants – Kelsey could respect that. But they didn’t need a naked target to make an impression. They wrapped their free arm around Bertie’s waist and tensed, letting him feel the muscle that lay hidden under their misleadingly pudgy frame.

Kelsey believed strongly in maintaining the health of the body as well as the mind, and had the hours in the weight room to show for it.

“Are you two going to get any spanking done over there?” Sherrie called over, never missing a beat, “I’ve got this young lady’s back porch just about painted.”

“Oh, I won’t be long,” intoned Kelsey. “This young man needs to learn a lesson in manners.”

Up until now, Kelsey had been purposely holding back until they’d established what Bertie could take. But he’d all but dared them, and that was a challenge they were ready and willing to answer.

Their palm struck so fiercely that they could see Bertie’s skin ripple from under his trunks. He gasped in surprise as much as pain, but Kelsey was only getting started. Not slowing at all, they slapped each cheek in succession with equal fury. Bertie couldn’t move his hands from the floor – they’d both probably fall if he did – but the twitch in his shoulder told him how much he wanted to reach back and stop them.

After maybe fifty hard and fast swats, Kelsey ceased. They were out of practice since grad school – they’d all but lost feeling in their right hand. Bertie slid awkwardly out of their lap and came to a kneeling position on the floor, reaching carefully toward his sore backside.

“What have we learned, Bertie? I don’t need to repeat myself, do I?”

“Ow…”

“That’s right, Bertie, sassing people you don’t know can get you in a lot of trouble. I’m glad you learned that early. Do you think you’ve had enough?”

Bertie was silent, likely still processing the sensation that he’d unwittingly invited into his hindquarters. His gaze seemed fixed on a point on the far wall.

“Does that say ‘Board of Education’?”

Kelsey followed his eyeline to an illustrated school paddle, one among many hanging from the wall. “Yes, it does say that. Is there something you’d like to ask?”

He hesitated, but morbid curiosity got the better of him. “May I have a taste of the paddle, doctor?”

“You may, but I can’t use that one while I’m sitting. If you can stay still, I’ll have you bend over the stool. If you can’t-“ they gestured to the trestle.

Bertie contemplated his options, then bent over the trestle. He then shocked Kelsey further by lowering his swimsuit and placing his wrists in the restraints. His bottom was splotched with crimson, but not the deep red or bruising that Kelsey might have expected. A faint bruise could be glimpsed on his left cheek – not one of theirs, they noted.

Sherrie laughed, “Doc, I think you’ve created a monster!” She resumed stroking Rachel’s hair. The tiny woman was still spread out over her lap and seemed in no hurry to leave.

“Hey, honey. Feels like you still need a moment, but I’m going to need my legs back. Think you might could do with some corner time?”

Rachel groaned, but still gave Sherrie a small nod.

“Now, usually your Auntie Sherrie sends you to the corner with a little parting gift.” She reached into a small basket hanging between the stretchers of the stool and withdrew a small, pear-shaped object with a flared base. “You ever use one of these before?”

“No, Auntie Sherrie.”

“Think you might like to try this one?”

“Yes, Auntie Sherrie.”

“Are you kidding?” Bertie jerked up, yanking at his restraints and nearly bowling Kelsey over. “You told me-“

“This is a safe space, mister, and toys are meant to be played with,” Sherrie’s voice was warm, but hard as iron as she dribbled a spot of lube onto the plug. “Kelsey, add another one from me, will you?”

Bertie turned to Kelsey for support, but they shrugged. “Hey, she’s the boss. I was going to give you six of the best, now I guess it’ll be seven. I still haven’t heard your safe word yet.”

“How about ‘uncle’?”

“Basic, but functional. Ready?”

They tapped the paddle once, twice against Bertie’s flesh. A low moan from Rachel distracted them as they wound up.

“How does that feel, dear?”

“Tight!”

“Sounds about right, then. Go get your pink little butt off to the corner, then.” With some difficulty, Rachel made her way into the one of the black light booths, hands on her head, with only a hint of silicone peeking out from beneath her cleft.

Kelsey almost missed Bertie’s “Ready.”

The crack of the paddle was deafening in the underground room. Bertie jerked forward, but it took a full second before a high-pitched whine tumbled through his lips.

“The paddle’s a beast, isn’t it? Ready?”

“Ready…”

Kelsey planted their feet and swung again. Each time the paddle struck home, and Bertie writhed in his cuffs, unable to dodge the suffering that would come his way. But each time, with gritted teeth, he’d call ‘ready’ again.

The sixth swat drew out a yell. The seventh… just a prolonged, aching sigh.

The rest was cleanup and niceties. Cuffs were unbuckled, toys extricated, and a generous portion of aloe applied to the appreciative couple. Once they’d collected their phones, Sherrie sent Bertie a link with the date of their next mixer, the following Thursday. Rachel indicated that she, at least, would have to work… but was open to coming back some other time.

By nine o’clock, they were gone.

“You made a good call with those two,” commented Sherrie, “Even the young man. He just needs to get out more.”

Kelsey blushed.

“By the way, what’s rule three again?”

“’Save it for the bedroom’, Sherrie.” Out of practice or not, they’d enjoyed the chance to stretch their muscles this evening. Even with their therapy at an end, they hoped they’d see Bertie and Rachel again…

“Nuh-uh. ‘Save it for the bedroom’ is rule four. Rule Three is ‘Put your toys back where you got them, and be sure to wash and sanitize’. Four rules, Kelsey.”

Their mind snapped back. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while, I guess I forgot.”

“I seem to remember how we used to jog your memory. Your safe word is still ‘Spielrein’?”

Kelsey winced. Their night was still far from over.

Grad school had never been like this!