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

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

This completes "Blame it on the Blackout". But, quite
clearly, this isn't the end of the story. Something else
is going to happen. We just don't know what. Liz can't
keep sitting on the fence forever. She will have to make
a decision eventually - or someone else might make it for
her.

When I first had the idea for this story, I assumed that
it would be a 'normal' story with a start a middle part
and an end. Then I started to realize that several middle
parts and ends could follow logically from the same
start. The idea fascinated me. I could give readers a
say, ask them to decide how the story should end. Or I
could offer several parallel continuations and let each
reader decide which of them he or she prefers.

This is why I decided to publish this finished but
incomplete story. What do _you_ think should happen next?
Liz mentions a few possible actions she might take. Which
of them would _you_ opt for? There may be possibilities
which Liz hasn't thought of. Can _you_ think of an
additional option you would prefer? Let me know your
ideas and I'll try to work them into the next
instalment(s) of this story.

                         -----

Once more, Peter Z, my editor, has been instrumental in
making this story a smooth read. He has reviewed each
chapter and saved me from publishing a number of
embarrassing errors. Another round of applause for Peter
Z.

I have already asked for your opinion on how the story
should continue. Even if you don't want to interfere in
Liz's fate, I would like to hear from you. Your opinion
matters to me. Please tell me what you liked most and
what you enjoyed least. It gives me a chance to write an
even better story next time around.

Gato Medio
