Chapter 6: The Day After
So, here I am, back in my room, a nervous bundle of indecision, waiting for the phone to ring.
I spent the whole day without wearing any knickers, but that made only a very small contribution to my confused state of mind. I didn't get a wink of sleep all night and now I'm dead tired. Too many things happened to let me find the restoring sleep I need to function properly.
In a few minutes Roger will call me and he'll want to know in great detail what happened last night. Of course he'll notice from the sound of my voice how tired I am and he will draw his own conclusions about the cause of my tiredness.
I have decided to be brave and confess everything Fiona and I got up to last night. Well, not exactly everything. I'll leave out Fiona's punishment. That means I can't tell Roger that it all started when I treated her sore bottom with moisturiser. I have to come up with another reason why she came to be lying naked on her bed, asking me to touch her.
But my mind's gone blank. I can't come up with any plausible story. Maybe: Fiona slipped and fell down the stairs as she went to answer the door. Then, when we got to her room, she took off her clothes, lay on her bed and asked me to check if there was any damage. And then one thing led to another. That should solve the immediate problem of Roger's phone call.
I'm worried that Roger may not like what I'm going to tell him. But he can't be too harsh on me. After all, it was he who told me to 'see what develops'.
But that's not my only problem, maybe not even the biggest one. There are so many open questions that I don't know where to start.
I can't understand how I got into this state of utter confusion. I don't seem to be able to think clearly for longer than ten seconds. Is it because Roger isn't here? I don't think that's the reason. He's been away on business in the past and I've always coped very well. I'm pretty sure that Fiona is the reason for my mental turmoil. I haven't been my usual self ever since the two of us stayed behind on the day of the blackout. Why on earth didn't I leave straight away like everybody else? No, I had to act the dedicated professional who carries on working in spite of adverse conditions. Now I'm in a mess.
The crazy thing is that I've never before had any problem reaching a decision. It's easy. You enumerate all your options. You list the positive and negative points about each option. Then you identify which of the positive points attract you and which of the negative points put you off most. And you go for the option with the balance of positive and negative factors which suits you best. Simple. No rocket science.
I have done it many times since my father taught me how to do it. Sometimes I think that this is the only thing my father ever taught me, but that would be unfair. He taught me mostly by setting an example, not by telling me what to do. By imitating him I have become an honest, decent, upright citizen. I learned from him how to behave in such a way that I never need to be ashamed of my actions. But now it's all falling apart.
As soon as I have started to list my options for one problem, another problem demands my attention. As hard as I try, I never manage to get past the first step. Not only have I lost my ability to make rational decisions, I've also been involved in actions which I can't possibly be proud of.
Last night, before I left her, Fiona made a copy of the tape I had recorded, and handed it to me.
"This is your copy. You deserve it. I think this should answer all your questions," she said.
In fact, I never got around to asking her any questions, as I had intended. Fiona's punishment had left both of us in such a state of excitement that we lost control and engaged in this regrettable act. And then, when she snooped in my handbag and found Roger's picture, our conversation had taken a different direction.
As soon as I got home, I popped the cassette into the VCR and played it. Then I played it again. And again. I have lost count of how many times I've played the tape. I've watched it at normal speed and in slow motion. I've sat there and stared at the close-ups of Fiona's breasts with the erect nipples, her dripping pussy, and her punished bottom in freeze-frame mode. And I fingered myself without taking my eyes off the screen. I only stopped watching the tape when my alarm clock went off, telling me that it was time to get up and go to work.
Watching the scenes on this tape had a devastating effect on me. I wanted two things, I just couldn't decide which one I wanted more. I wanted to return to Fiona's bed and repeat everything we had done, if possible with even more passion and abandon. And I wanted to take her place on her uncle's desk. I wanted to expose my naked body and my dripping pussy to his eyes, and my bottom to his castigating hands.
When I watched the tape, I couldn't help feeling excited seeing the close-ups of Fiona's breasts, her dripping wet pussy, even the shots of her bottom being hit repeatedly by her uncle's hand.
Ever since Fiona exposed her bare breasts to my eyes, back at the office, I knew that she had a magnificent body. The kind of body men drool over. But I can't possibly admit that I feel sexually attracted to her, that I desire her. Because that would be wrong, wrong, wrong!
It's wrong because women are attracted to men and men are attracted to women. That's the law of nature. Everything else is unnatural. It's wrong because there have to be rules. Without rules our lives turn into chaos. Having no rules spells the end of civilization as we know it.
What happened last night between Fiona and me must never happen again. We both lost control. We let our excitement take over. Who knows, Fiona might have done it so that she can give her uncle another reason for punishing her. But I had no reason, no justification, other then my uncontrollable lust. Confessing to Roger what I did will help me avoid similar situations in future.
'But it was nice, wasn't it?'
'Well, no. 'Nice' isn't the word for it. It was fantastic! It was incredible, awesome, indescribable! It was my best ever experience which didn't involve Roger.' But that doesn't make it right! I have to learn where to draw the line. I can't let such an unnatural desire take control of my life.
When I arrived at work this morning, I took care not to walk past Fiona's cubicle - just in case she had already arrived. I haven't had enough time yet to think about what happened between us. My mind is occupied with so many things, I haven't been able to focus on any one of them. I didn't know how to face Fiona and thought it best to avoid her. Luckily, Fiona was tied up all morning in a meeting to discuss a possible solution for her Heavy Metal site.
At lunchtime, I went to one of the tables at the far end of the dining hall, hoping that I would get a chance to bring my thoughts into some kind of order. In hindsight, it might have been a better strategy to share a table with other colleagues who had already started their meal. As it happened, Fiona spotted me sitting on my own and joined me.
Fiona was beaming as she came towards me in long, energetic strides. I could tell that something had happened which pleased her immensely, and that she was dying to tell me about it. But she didn't immediately come out with her news.
"Hi Liz, how are you today?"
I mumbled a noncommittal, "Alright. How are you?"
"Oh! Still tired after last night's exertions? I can understand that. You were fantastic! It was a night I won't forget for a long time."
I remained quiet. At least she hadn't said, "We've got to do this again some time soon."
"Are you going to tell Roger about us?" Fiona asked with a wink.
Her question took me by surprise. The way she asked me sounded as if we were having an affair and I now had to tell my ex-lover that it was all over because I had found somebody else. Probably that wasn't what she meant, but I still thought this was a good opportunity to put things into perspective - my perspective.
"Yes. He'll want to know what happened. It was his idea that I should masturbate in front of you and 'see what develops'. Now, I'll have to tell him what developed."
It was Fiona's turn to be surprised. "He told you to masturbate in front of me? And you did it because he told you to? Are you saying that everything between us happened merely on Roger's request?"
I felt tempted to confirm her suspicion, but I didn't want to hurt Fiona unnecessarily. I also knew that it would have been untrue.
"No," I said. "Roger's suggestion just gave me permission to follow my impulse. What happened took place because we were both very excited. And you are very beautiful. So I lost control."
Fiona didn't pay much attention to my compliment. Her mind had already moved on to the reason for her cheerful mood.
"You know, I had a brilliant idea this morning. I figured out a way of getting him to eat my pussy."
I didn't need to ask which 'him' she was talking about. I was shocked by the frankness with which she expressed her incestuous desire. But one part of me seemed relieved. If she continued to pursue her objective to have sex with her own father, then she might forget about her other crazy plan: that of 'borrowing' Roger for a night.
"I'm going to get myself a nice big carrot. I'm going to go to my room and take off my clothes. And I'm going to masturbate. I'm going to fuck myself with that carrot and I'll imagine that it's my dad's cock. And I'm going to come all over that carrot. I'm going to come until it is completely covered with my juices, until it's impregnated with the taste and scent of my pussy.
"I'm even thinking of taping myself as I do it, and keeping the tape as evidence.
"Then I'm going to grate the carrot and serve it to my dad as a salad. I know that my pussy is going to be soaking wet as I watch him eat my offering. If he asks about the unusual taste, I'll tell him that it's a new dressing made with a secret ingredient."
I was speechless. This was disgusting! Was there no limit to her perversion? How could anybody plan to do something like that? And then go around boasting about it? She wasn't expecting me to congratulate her and wish her success, was she?
"The best thing is still to come." Fiona's eyes sparkled as she continued. "Next Thursday, when I have to list my sins, I'll confess this one as well. I'll tell him what I did and why I did it. Then he has a choice. Either he'll eat my pussy for real, or he'll spank me like he's never spanked me before. Either way, I win.
I didn't know whether I should feel outraged or sorry for Fiona. Quite clearly, her desire had affected her judgement. How could she say 'I win' faced with the possibility that her uncle might spank her harder than ever before?
"I have to do it tonight, because I'll be working on Saturday. The Heavy Metal group has agreed to foot the bill for the server upgrade and for establishing mirror sites. It's going to be a long session, probably lasting until the early hours, until we have set up and tested everything. But I'm not going to tell my dad that I'm working. I let him think that I'm coming home late after having been out to enjoy myself. That way I have another sin to confess on Thursday."
I asked Fiona if she didn't mind having to work on a Saturday.
"No, not at all. You see, I'm coming out of the whole thing smelling of roses. I had warned them before. They wouldn't listen. Now I'm going to be the hero who'll solve their problem by my selfless action.
"Seriously, though: I'm going to do something which I only know from theory. Now I've got a chance to do it for real. That's quite exciting. And it can't be bad for my CV either."
I was happy that Fiona would be occupied on Saturday. At least she wouldn't be able to suggest that we repeat our indecent deeds of last night.
My mind is going round and round in never-ending circles. Every time reason seems to win the upper hand and I decide to banish the thought of having my bottom spanked from my mind, another voice implores me, 'Just think what you might be missing! A little pain isn't too high a price to pay for such an exciting experience. Didn't you see with your own eyes how much satisfaction Fiona got out of it?'
But Fiona doesn't get this excited just because a hand collides at high speed with her naked bottom. She gets excited because that hand belongs to her uncle and she has a crush on him. From what I can tell, Fiona is so infatuated with her uncle, she would get just as excited if he were to sandpaper her nipples or pull out her toenails one by one.
And that's where I'm stuck: at the ever-returning question, "What if it hurts?" I know already that the tape won't answer this question, no matter how many times I watch it. The tape doesn't show pain, just excitement. True, Fiona cries as her uncle thrashes her bottom. But her tear-filled eyes sparkle, and she smiles as the tears roll down her cheeks and fall on the desk.
I know that there's no point in asking Fiona about the pain. She'll just confirm that it hurts, but she'll declare emphatically that the excitement more than compensates for the pain. There seems to be no way of finding out, at least not without having my own bottom whacked.
I wish the damn phone would ring and I could take comfort in hearing Roger's voice. But I can't ask him for his opinion. Not until I'm sure I want to go through with it. Nevertheless, just talking to him would go a long way to calming me down. And he promised me a session of long-distance sex. That's something to look forward to. But the phone stays quiet. And I'm getting more anxious by the minute.
When I'm not wondering whether I should drop this stupid idea altogether, I try to work out who would be the most suitable person for administering my trial spanking.
First there is my own dad. I didn't follow up on the conversation I had with him. I don't think he'll go back on his promise, even though it wasn't very explicit. I believe that he would actually spank me if I'd asked for it. But would his heart be in it?
It's one thing to spank your daughter because she asked for it and a completely different thing to thrash her bottom because you think she deserves it, or because you believe that it will help improve her behaviour. Fiona's uncle clearly belongs into the latter group. And he's experienced; he knows what he's doing. (I notice that I have gone back to referring to Mister Parker as Fiona's uncle because I just can't contemplate the possibility that he might be her father.)
But I couldn't possibly ring his doorbell and say, "Good evening Mister Parker, could I ask you to spank my bottom? I'd like to find out what it feels like." No, that doesn't sound likely. But I could provoke him, do something that infuriates him so much that he loses his temper, bends me over his knee, pulls down my knickers and spanks me.
Fiona has mentioned a few things her uncle absolutely hates. Smoking is one thing. Bad manners is another one. Ever since his doctor told him to stop smoking he gets furious when anyone smokes in the house. And if I were to light up without asking for his permission that would be a sign of bad manners, wouldn't it?
Problem is: I don't smoke. I never liked the taste. But I could make an exception, just once.
But how would I manage to get into his house and make him mad at me? I wouldn't want Fiona to be there when it happens. I could go and return the tape of Fiona's spanking. No! I want to keep that tape. I need to watch it a few more times.
There's an idea: On Saturday, Fiona will be working, but she isn't going to tell her uncle. I could go there as if I expected Fiona to be home. If I tell Mister Parker that I have an appointment with Fiona, that she had asked me to come by, he'll probably let me into the house to wait for her. Then I could just light a cigarette without asking for his permission. If he tells me to put it out, I'll start a discussion about the exaggerated fears some people have and about the unfair media coverage smoking is getting.
Hopefully, that will make him mad enough to bend me over his knee. At least, if he spanks me because he's mad at me, there won't be any playacting. He'll do it for real, to teach me a lesson.
'Damn right, you stupid fool!' the voice of reason intervenes. 'He'll teach you a lesson alright. But he'll only stop when he thinks you've had enough, not when you ask him to because you realize how much it hurts. Spanking isn't like ordering some strange dish, tasting a forkful and then sending it back if you don't like it. Go ahead, let him turn your bottom into a red hot bun.'
Somehow, the prospect of pain doesn't frighten me as much as it used to. Fiona survived it, why shouldn't I. Also, if I provoke Mister Parker, he'll spank me just this once. If I decide that it hurts too much I can forget the whole thing and never mention it to Roger.
Thinking of Roger reminds me of Fiona's interest in meeting him. That bitch wants more than to just 'meet' him. Don't get me wrong: I'm not as jealous or possessive as Fiona seems to think I am. I just don't want to lose Roger. I wouldn't know what to do without him. But if Roger wants to fuck her, I won't do anything to stop him.
I'm still not sure that I want to mention my curiosity to Roger. I'm afraid of talking to Roger about it because I don't know if I can stand it. Maybe it would be a good idea if Fiona talked about her getting spanked to Roger. Then he can decide if he wants to try it out on me. Maybe I should let the two of them decide what I should do, or what they want to do with me. It's all so bloody difficult. Why did I have to get curious about spanking in the first place? Why did I have to get involved with Fiona? That conversation with her has turned my world upside down. And that conversation only happened because of that goddamn blackout!
The End