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.