Blame it on the Blackout
A 'Sting in the Tail' Story
By Gato Medio

Chapter 2: The Conversation (Part 2)

Shocks, yes! I had promised to tell Fiona a secret about
Roger and me so that she would share her secret with me.
I wondered if that had been a good idea. I wondered if I
hadn't been better off without the burden of knowing
Fiona's secret. But I wasn't going to go back on my word.

"He's got this really unusual idea of foreplay," I
started.

"Like, none?" Fiona interrupted my flow before it had
started.

I didn't respond to her interjection, but my look told
her that I didn't want to be interrupted.

"Roger prepares me for the big event by talking about it.
I still remember the first time he did it. Our
relationship had only just started. He had invited me for
dinner at this fashionable, expensive restaurant.
Scrubbed wooden floors, hi-tech lighting, eclectic
combinations of ingredients from around the world ... you
know the kind I'm talking about. I believe it was our
first dinner date, and I was really impressed by his
choice of place.

"As soon as our starters arrived, Roger asked me, 'Do you
know what we're going to do when we've finished this
meal?'

'You're going to make passionate love to me?' I ventured.
I was pretty sure that this was what he had in mind.

'Wrong answer. I'm going to fuck the living daylights out
of you. I'm going to ram my cock into your cunt as deep
as it goes.'

"That wiped the smile off my face, at least for the
moment. But there was no sign of aggression in Roger's
voice. He had spoken those crude words like another man
might have suggested a walk, hand in hand, along the
banks of a moonlit river.

"Nevertheless, I was shocked - at least initially. My
apprehension soon gave way to anticipation when Roger
described in great detail what he was going to do to me.
He talked about our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. He
described how he would take off my clothes, every item I
was wearing, including my earrings, my necklace and my
watch. He made me swoon with delight as he talked about
how his hands, his lips, his tongue would caress my naked
body and how he would finally worship me with his cock.

"He talked throughout the meal, just about this one
subject, without ever repeating himself. He didn't
interrupt his flow when the waitress came to take away
our empty plates and bring the next course or when she
refilled our glasses. I'm sure she understood every word
Roger said and knew exactly what he was talking about.
But at this point I no longer cared whether she knew. It
wouldn't have bothered me if the entire restaurant knew.

"My pussy was soaking, dripping wet and there was only
one thing I wanted. I wanted Roger to take me to his flat
and fuck the living daylights out of me, as he had
promised."

"Wonderful," Fiona exclaimed. "Your Roger seems to be
quite a smooth talker."

I decided to ignore the touch of irony in Fiona's voice.
Once I had started talking about how Roger made me feel,
there was no stopping me.

"The desire he awakes in me is hardly bearable when I
know that relief is imminent. It turns into torture when
Roger decides to announce his intentions hours before I'm
going to meet him. Recently, he's made it a habit to call
me at lunchtime or in the early afternoon and give me
detailed instructions for the evening. He tells me what
to wear and where to go - along with a vivid description
of what he intends to do when he gets there. It leaves me
in an unbelievable state of excitement. I can't
concentrate on anything, my mind keeps returning to the
phone call and to what the evening will bring.

"Two weeks ago he instructed me to go to his flat, take
off all my clothes, and drape myself over the kitchen
table with my bottom up in the air so that he could see
my dripping pussy as soon as he entered the kitchen.
Roger's got this thing about making love to me in every
room of his flat, and apparently we hadn't done it in the
kitchen for some time.

"As always, I got there long before the specified time.
I'm always close to a nervous breakdown when I think that
my sexual satisfaction is entrusted to the vagaries of
London Transport. The thought that I might be late for
such an important appointment because the Northern Line
is up the creek turns me into a nervous wreck. So I
always make sure that I have plenty of time to spare. I
never take the tube. I know that a bus can be even slower
as it winds its way through the rush hour traffic, but if
it gets stuck, I can get off, walk, run, or take a cab.

"As soon as I got to Roger's flat, I took off my clothes
and positioned myself exactly as he had specified.

"The minutes ticked by so slowly, they seemed like hours.
I replayed the telephone call in my mind, over and over
again. Thinking about what Roger would do to me made my
pussy drip. I was sure a puddle was forming on the
kitchen floor. But my instructions were clear. Once I had
got into position I was not allowed to move an inch or
make a sound.

"When I heard the key turn in the lock, I also heard
voices. More precisely, Roger's voice. He wasn't alone.
He was talking to someone. I froze. The kitchen door was
half ajar. Someone just walking past would probably not
notice me. But what if they decided to come into the
kitchen?

"I nearly panicked. I remembered that, not long ago,
Roger had said, after looking at me for a long time,
'You're so beautiful. It's a pity that nobody else can
see you like this. It's such a waste of your potential.
Maybe I should invite some of the guys around so they can
have a look at you. What do you think?'

"The question had left me shell-shocked. He wasn't
serious about this, was he? But I also noticed that the
thought he might actually do it left me even wetter than
I usually am in Roger's presence. Now I asked myself
whether he had decided to let one of his friends have a
good look at me, maybe even watch as he fucked me. But
then I calmed myself. Roger wouldn't miss the opportunity
of announcing his intention ahead of time, because he
knew that this would leave me even more excited."

Fiona couldn't remain quiet. "You mean you would actually
let him show you to his friends, without a stitch on?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'd probably die of
embarrassment. But if it's his wish ..."

"Anyway," I resumed my narration, "I concluded that the
presence of the other person hadn't been planned.
Something had happened which made Roger bring him or her
with him. My assumption was soon confirmed.

'So it's the material about optical sensors you want?' I
heard Roger say. And a male voice answered, 'That's
right. Everything you've got on the subject.'

'It's all in my desk in the living room. Come this way.'

"That was Roger's voice again. I could hear them walk
past the kitchen door. I held my breath. Would the
stranger see me, lying slumped on the kitchen table?

"Apparently he didn't see me, but he saw something else.
'What's this?' I heard him ask. 'Have you got a female
flatmate? Or are you living with someone?'

'Damn! My clothes!' I thought. Roger had told me many
times not to leave them lying around when I got undressed
to wait for him. I no longer fling my clothes all over
the place as I tear them off. I now put them in an
orderly pile. But nevertheless, they were there, bang in
the middle of the coffee table. And my bra and knickers
were on top of the pile!

'Neither,' I heard Roger say. 'Those clothes belong to
Liz, my girlfriend. I've told her hundreds of times not
to leave her kit scattered around, but you know what
women are like. She probably arrived, changed into
something more casual, and went out to do a bit of
shopping.'

'Your girlfriend, eh?' the other man said. 'She must be
quite a lady, judging from her underwear.'

'Well, yes. She is. I'll introduce you on another
occasion. Today, I'm a bit pressed for time. I won't even
offer you a drink - I hope you don't consider me rude
because of that.'

'Oh good!' I thought. At least nobody will come into the
kitchen to get ice from the freezer. I felt relieved when
I heard Roger close the door behind his visitor. I knew
that now it would only be a short while before Roger
would relieve me of my tension. I imagined that the
puddle on the kitchen floor had turned into a small lake.

"I won't go into details about what happened afterwards.
All I'm going to say is that it was one of the best fucks
of my life."

"Wow!" Fiona said after a while. "That story almost left
me speechless. Your Roger seems to be my kind of guy. Any
chance of me meeting him?"

That suggestion came quite unexpected. Less than an hour
ago, I had concluded that ten out of ten guys would
prefer Fiona over me. What if Roger decided that he liked
Fiona better?

It was in my own interest to let Fiona pursue her
incestuous lust for her 'uncle' rather than giving her an
opportunity to turn Roger's head. I mumbled a
noncommittal "I'll see what I can do," without any
intention of doing anything of the sort.

Fortunately, Fiona didn't expect any firm commitment.

"You know, I think I can relate to that feeling when
you're told what's going to happen, but there's still
some time to go before it actually happens," she picked
up the conversation. "It must be similar to how I feel in
the run-up to a spanking."

"A what?" I gasped.

I was sure I had misunderstood. Well, after Fiona's
earlier revelation I wasn't so sure anymore.

"A spanking," Fiona repeated, smiling. My surprise seemed
to amuse her. "You know: 'bare hand meets bare bottom'.
That kind of thing."

"You get spanked? No, you got spanked, a long time ago!
You still do? Even today, at your age? By whom? By your
father? On your bare bottom?"

Fiona just sat there, almost bursting out in laughter.
She limited herself to nodding and shaking her head in
response to the barrage of questions I produced. I
noticed that I had referred to her uncle as 'your father'
and she hadn't said anything to correct me. There were so
many implications of exposing one's bare bottom to a
man's hands I didn't dare to mention.

"I've been spanked ever since I was this little," Fiona
said, fighting back her amusement.

The distance from the floor to her indicating hand was
roughly ten inches, maybe a foot. That had to be an
exaggeration.

My mind went into a spin. I didn't know exactly how old
Fiona was, but, like everybody else on the course, she
was probably somewhere between nineteen and twenty-two.
Spanking young children was bad enough, but nobody spanks
a young lady of, say, twenty years, no matter whether
she's your niece or your daughter. This was outrageous, a
case for the police!

I looked at Fiona. She was all smiles. My reaction seemed
to be the funniest thing which had happened to her for a
long time. Then it finally clicked. I understood that
there had been some elaborate leg-pulling.

"Very good, Fiona, you've almost fooled me," I said,
giving her a bitter-sweet smile. "You're taping all this,
aren't you? Or is there a hidden camera somewhere? I have
to admit, you were very convincing. I almost fell for
your story. It took me some time to realize that you were
having me on."

"What do you mean 'fooled you'? What makes you think I'm
having you on? Why should there be a hidden camera?"

Fiona's mood had changed. She seemed annoyed. My
suggestion that her revelation had been a hoax offended
her.

"You disappoint me, Liz! When you told me this story
about your boyfriend I thought you were a little more
open-minded than the others. But now I realize that your
views are just as blinkered as everybody else's. I
thought long and hard before I decided to tell you about
my passion for my uncle. I came to the conclusion that it
was worth taking the risk. Now it looks like it was a
mistake. I open my soul, expose my secret desires - and
you think it's all one big joke."

I realized that I had put my foot in it, although I found
Fiona's reaction a little over the top. Well, maybe it
was understandable that she was touchy about the subject.
I had no intention to offend her, and her assessment that
I had blinkered views hurt me. I decided to apologize.

"Listen, Fiona, I'm sorry if I said anything that upset
you. It's just that I saw you laugh at my confusion, and
I asked myself, what's so funny about this, and the only
answer I could come up with was that you had led me up
the garden path, that you had made it all up. I'm sorry
if I jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"And as far as my blinkered views are concerned," I
continued, "you'll find that I'm quite open-minded. I
reacted like this because your revelation came so
unexpected. What you told me didn't fit into the picture
I had of you."

"It's always dangerous to form a picture of someone you
don't know very well."

I could tell from the tone of Fiona's voice that she had
accepted my apology, and that there were no hard
feelings. I decided to carry on with the conversation as
if our little misunderstanding had never happened.

"So, you said your uncle started to spank you when you
were very young?"

"Yes. To be precise, it started on my sixth birthday.
Uncle Sid told me that I was now old enough to be held
responsible for my actions, and that he would punish me
whenever I stepped out of line. He said that it had been
the wish of my mother that I should be disciplined when I
misbehaved.

"And he gave me my first spanking right there and then.
For no particular reason, just so that I'd get used to
it. He made me strip naked in front of everybody who had
come to celebrate my birthday, bent me over his knee and
spanked my bottom."

I felt like exclaiming, "What a monster!" but considered
it wiser to keep my mouth shut.

"On that first occasion I hardly felt any pain, just
embarrassment because it happened in front of all my
friends and relatives. Uncle Sid probably didn't spank me
very hard; I hadn't done anything wrong yet. But ever
since that day, I get a real spanking once a week - and
he doesn't hold anything back."

Fiona probably saw the expression of horror on my face
and was eager to tone down her suffering.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not accusing my uncle of being
unjust. He's never spanked me when I didn't deserve it -
except, maybe, that first time. The routine hasn't
changed much since my sixth birthday. Once a week I have
to appear in front of my uncle. It always happens on the
same weekday at the same time, regardless of who else is
present. I have to list all the misdemeanours I have
committed during the past week. Then he bends me over his
knee and spanks me according to the number and severity
of my offences."

I couldn't remain quiet. "Have you never thought about
complaining to somebody about this?"

"How could I? He's my dad. Or at least he acts in the
place of my father. And besides, I believe that it has
helped me become a better person. I have learned to
always keep my room tidy, to be polite, to control my
temper, to be less selfish and to treat everybody with
respect.

"You see, in the beginning, I really hated it. I behaved
like a saint. I would try to do everything exactly as it
was expected of me, just to avoid having my bottom
thrashed.

"It wasn't only the pain, it was also the embarrassment
of having to strip naked for my punishment. Particularly
when my cousins from Kent were visiting. At that age I
didn't think it was a big deal to take off my clothes and
let people look at my naked body - there wasn't much to
look at in any case. It was their reaction, the way they
giggled and teased me afterwards, which made me self-
conscious.

"Sometimes I had the feeling those little shits weren't
really coming to London to see the sights, they were
visiting my uncle so they could watch my weekly spanking.
Whenever I was punished in front of them, I got so
embarrassed, I would hide for hours in my room to escape
their teases."

I just had to ask, "Does he still make you strip naked?"

Fiona smiled. There was a glint of wickedness in her
eyes.

"I knew you would ask that. The short answer is no. Some
things have changed since that first spanking. When I
grew up and my body started to take shape I felt even
more embarrassed about taking off my clothes in front of
Uncle Sid and whoever else happened to be present at the
time. I didn't want my cousins to look at my budding
breasts and the hair which had started to grow on my
pubic mound.

"So, one day I gathered my courage and talked to Aunt
Vera about it - kind of woman-to-woman. She had always
been very supportive and had told me all the things a
girl who turns into a woman needs to know.

"Aunt Vera agreed that I was a little too old to receive
my punishment in my birthday suit. She talked to Uncle
Sid about it and he agreed that I could wear a punishment
shirt. It's really a short nightgown. It covers my upper
body and can be lifted easily to make my bottom
accessible for punishment."

Oh yes! There was Fiona's Aunt Vera.

"Did your aunt never raise any objections? I mean, it
isn't normal for a woman your age to have her bottom
spanked."

I stopped myself right there. Maybe Fiona wouldn't like
that kind of statement about what was and what wasn't
'normal'.

"Aunt Vera doesn't get involved. She thinks it's nothing
to do with her, and I tend to agree with her. I was
already part of the family before she arrived. I'm much
more closely related to Uncle Sid than she is. So she
feels that what happens between my uncle and me is none
of her business.

"Anyway, you didn't let me finish answering your previous
question. The one about nudity. As I said, nowadays, I
wear my punishment shirt - except once a year, on my
birthday. Then it has to go. On my first naked birthday
spanking I left a clearly visible wet patch on Uncle
Sid's trousers. God, was I embarrassed! I believe my face
turned redder than my freshly spanked bottom.

"Now Uncle Sid no longer spanks me over his knee. I have
to bend over his desk which he protects with a plastic
sheet beforehand."

I gasped. "You mean you still strip naked in front of
your father? ... your uncle? ... Whatever. In front of
that man?"

Fiona briefly closed her eyes. Her face lit up. It seemed
that she had let the scene pass before her mind's eye.

"Yes," she said dreamily. "It's wonderful. I nearly die
of embarrassment. But I also get terribly excited. I have
taken to wearing a tampon so that my wetness doesn't show
too much. That's why I said it's similar to the
excitement you must be feeling when you're waiting for
your boyfriend. And I can tell that my nakedness isn't
without effect on my daddy either."

I decided that it was better for my own peace of mind to
ignore her comment about her father's state of
excitement. I knew instinctively that an outburst like,
'So, that creep is getting his rocks off looking at your
naked body,' would not be welcome.

"You sound as if you're actually enjoying it." There were
at least seven exclamation marks and about as many
question marks behind my statement.

"This isn't the kind of question I can answer with yes or
no. It's not as simple as that. Letting Uncle Sid spank
me is a form of being intimate with him. No doubt about
that. And I wouldn't want to miss it for anything in this
world. But it's also terribly frustrating because he
never gives me any indication that he wants to take it
further than that - except for the bulge in his trousers.

"When he spanks me, it's meant as a punishment, and I can
feel that he wants me to learn from the pain to behave
better next time. It hurts and I never manage to hold
back my tears. But feeling his hand on my bare bottom is
such a delightful experience that I'm willing to accept
the pain that comes with it"

"But didn't you say you hated it?" I interrupted Fiona.

"That was in the beginning. Now I look forward to my
weekly spanking as much as you look forward to being
fucked by your boyfriend. I do what I can to make sure I
have a long list of sins to confess, so that he can spank
me long and hard.

"You see, it all changed roughly at the same time. Or
maybe there actually was a sequence in which things
happened. First, I started to look at myself more like a
woman than like a girl. Then, I developed this untameable
attraction for Uncle Sid and I wanted him to do to me
what men do to women. Not any particular thing, anything
he wants. And from there to enjoying the touch of his
firm hand on my bottom was only a small step.

"And I know that it's not going to stop there. One day, I
... Oh look, the lights are coming back!"

The lights were, indeed, coming back. A humming noise
told us that the air conditioning had sprung back into
action, and the computer on my desk started to reboot. I
had no idea how long we had been talking. It seemed that
the heat had simply turned into a background sensation of
generalized discomfort, but hadn't managed to make us cut
our conversation short.

Fiona looked at her watch. "Gee, it's almost six! Time
flies when you're having fun. I've got to go. Bye, Liz.
See you in the morning." Then she left, seemingly in a
hurry.

I didn't move as I watched Fiona disappear along the
corridor, carrying her lacy bra in one hand, her hips
swaying sensually.

My mind was reeling from Fiona's revelations. I felt like
I had woken from a deep sleep and wasn't able to separate
dream from reality. Had this conversation really taken
place?

The things Fiona had talked about were not new to me. I
had heard about children, even adolescents, being
spanked. I had heard about sex between members of the
same family. But I had always associated these activities
with sleazy perverts, scumbags, outcasts of society. And
now I had stumbled across this well-adjusted,
intelligent, and very good looking young woman who had
talked about being spanked by a close relative as if this
were the most natural thing to happen.

To make things worse, she had told me about the
incestuous desire the spankings aroused in her. And to
top it all, she had shared her suspicion that her uncle
was really her father.

'What is the world coming to?' I felt like asking. Or was
it me who was out of touch with the real world?

There was no way I could return to the project I had been
working on before the power cut. Whatever idea I had had
before was lost under a pile of conflicting feelings.
Sorting those out had become my top priority. My New Age
customer would have to wait until my inspiration
returned.

                    To be continued