Chapter 3: The Aftermath

I woke up in the middle of the night. Fragments of a dream, or maybe several dreams, were still floating through my head. In the scene which I was able to recall most clearly, I was naked, bending over the table in Roger's kitchen. Fiona was standing behind me, not wearing any top or bra. She was slapping my bottom! Her beautiful breasts swayed gently, accompanying the movement of her hand.

There were men watching - a different man in each version of the dream. I remembered seeing Roger. He stood there in his naked glory, his cock ready for action, watching as Fiona's hand castigated my bottom. In another version, the spectator was my father. He was fully dressed, but the bulge in his trousers betrayed how much watching my punishment excited him. The same could be said for the third man, whose face I didn't recognize. He was roughly the same age as my father, so I assumed that it had to be Fiona's uncle-father.

I put my hand between my legs just to confirm what I had already suspected. This had been a wet dream! The image of me getting spanked, naked, with Roger, my own father and a stranger watching had turned me on! What on earth was happening to me?

I had left the North Tower shortly after Fiona had terminated our conversation so abruptly, but I had no recollection of how I actually left. I suppose I must have taken one of the lifts which had served earlier as the imaginary backdrop for our fantasies about what might happen inside a stuck lift.

I had made my way home, but I was unable to tell whether I had taken the bus or the underground. I had eaten something, but I couldn't say what it was or what it tasted like. Then I had joined my father in the living room to watch the Nine o'clock News. I had sat there, my eyes fixed on the television screen throughout the programme, but now I couldn't remember a single news item which had been covered. My mind had been on other things. I realized that I must have come across like a sleep-walker.

I had retired to my room as soon as the news programme was finished, telling my father that I wanted to get an early night. But I hadn't managed to fall asleep for a long time. My mind kept returning to Fiona, the things she had said, and how she had said them; her smile, the defiant tone of her voice when she talked about her passion for her 'Uncle Sid'. The image of her bare breasts kept returning, and I remembered how I had gotten irritated about that. 'Alright, her breasts are more beautiful than mine. Maybe, on the whole, she's more attractive than I am. But there's no need to rub it in, ' I had told myself.

I must have drifted off to sleep eventually, but now I was wide awake again, trying to make sense of my dream. Why did Fiona's revelations leave me in this state of utter confusion? True, she had talked about things which I had so far only known from hearsay. I didn't know anybody who would actually do these things. Fiona's story had turned my knowledge of these practices much more immediate, much closer to home. Too close for comfort, it seemed. How else could I explain the impact her story had on me?

I knew that if I had seen Roger that evening, I would have spilt the beans. I would have told him every little detail of what Fiona had confided in me. But Roger was somewhere up in Scotland, installing video surveillance equipment for a customer, as part of a major contract.

My mind went back to our farewell, only a few days ago.

That trip to Scotland had come unexpectedly. The company Roger worked for had submitted a bid for a contract to supply and install a complete security system in all branches of a major Scottish bank. The bank's managers had indicated that they were willing to accept the proposal, provided that the equipment could be installed before the end of the current month. Roger had been given the assignment to put together a team of dedicated professionals who could accomplish the task in record time.

Roger had phoned me with the news, saying that he would be catching a plane to Aberdeen in a few hours' time. But he wanted to see me before he left. Would I mind coming to meet him at his office?

For me, such a question was equivalent to an order to drop everything and get myself over to his office as soon as possible.

Roger hugged and kissed me and thanked me for having come. Then he stepped back a little, looked me up and down, and said, "You know, we've never done it in my office."

My heart almost missed a beat. He wanted to make love to me, here, amidst the hustle and bustle of people discussing the final preparations for a trip and celebrating their biggest ever contract win!

I was about to remind him that he had already fucked me once in this very room, entering me from behind as I bent over his desk, when he added, "During working hours."

That other time had been on a Saturday, when we stopped briefly at Roger's office to pick up a document he needed. As soon as we had arrived in his office he had told me with his usual "You know, we've never done it... " that he wasn't going to miss this opportunity to add another entry to the long list of places, circumstances and positions in which he had made love to me.

But now I had come to his office for the first time during working hours. And it was clear from his voice that he was determined to carry out his crazy idea.

But how could he? The place was as busy as a bee hive in summer! During the short time I had been there, the phone had rung several times, a number of people had come into the office to ask for Roger's signature. Was he thinking of fucking me in front of all these people?

"Step behind this curtain and take off your clothes," Roger instructed me.

The curtain would shield me from the eyes of anyone entering Roger's office. But on the other side of the curtain was a huge floor-to-ceiling window. There were two other buildings, one on either side of the one in which Roger's office was located. The three buildings formed the shape of the letter U. Anybody looking out of a window in one of the two lateral buildings would be able to see me standing there without a stitch on. The tinted glass would go some way towards concealing my features, but there wouldn't be any doubt that a naked woman was standing there, pressing her bottom against the plate glass.

But there couldn't be any discussion. Roger wanted it.

I went behind the curtain, made sure it was closed all the way, and got undressed. I don't think my heart had ever beaten as loud as it did at that moment. And I could feel that other sensation which usually preceded Roger making love to me: my pussy was leaking like a rusty water tank.

Roger called his secretary. I held my breath, tried not to do anything which might make the curtain move.

Roger instructed his secretary, "I need a few minutes of privacy, Martha. Hold all my calls and don't let anybody walk through this door. Understood?"

"Yes, Roger, understood. Shall I open the curtain a little? It's quite dark in here."

I could hear her walk towards the curtain, ready to carry out what she had suggested.

"No thanks, Martha. I like it this way. That will be all for the moment."

But Martha didn't leave straight away. "What happened to the young lady who came to visit you?" she wanted to know.

"Oh, she stepped out onto the balcony to catch some fresh air."

I was relieved when I heard the door close. I could breath again. But my relief didn't last long. Within less than half a minute the door opened again.

"Balcony? What balcony? Your office doesn't have any balcony."

"It was a joke, Martha. A joke."

"I should have known. You're always pulling my leg."

Roger opened the curtain a little to check that I was ready. It felt so good when he embraced and kissed me. Any fear that we might be discovered was gone.

"This is going to be a new experience for both of us," he said.

Roger told me to stand in the middle of the window, where the two halves of the curtain met, facing the glass and sticking my bottom out. He would stay on the other side of the curtain, opening it just enough for him to stick his cock through.

I started to moan as his hard rod slid into my slippery pussy. As always, the sensation when he pushed deeper inside me was fantastic. It felt almost unbearably good. I put one hand into my mouth and bit on my knuckles to keep the noise down. But I did not manage to stay completely quiet. I wondered if people in the nearby offices could hear my stifled moans.

Roger drove his cock inside me and I pushed my bottom back against him to allow him to enter me deeper. Roger increased the speed and the strength of his thrusts. I could see people behind the windows of the other two buildings, but it seemed than none of them noticed me, as Roger's thrusts pressed my entire body against the tinted glass.

After a few minutes, Roger came and filled my pussy with his wonderful hot cum. I moaned and came in sympathy. It was the best I could expect under the circumstances. But Roger knew that it wasn't enough to put out the flames he had lit. He kissed and hugged me and told me to get dressed.

Before I could even put on my knickers he buzzed his secretary and told her that he was available again. There must have been a queue of people waiting outside. They all poured inside, wanting to know details about their involvement in the project, or asking for his signature on their travel advance forms.

I just hoped that nobody would pay attention to the movements behind the curtain as I put on my clothes and tried to put my hair in order as best I could. When the movement in Roger's office had ebbed down I stepped out of my hiding place.

Roger kissed me as he led me to the door. "I'll call you. I'll think of something special for when I get back."

Something special! That promise made my heart beat faster. I was sure Roger was already planning an elaborate celebration which would inevitably end in a marathon session of wild sex.

I didn't dare to look at Martha, Roger's secretary, but I was sure that her mouth stood wide open as she saw me emerge from Roger's office. I could feel her eyes on my back as I walked towards the exit, the mixture of Roger's cum and my own juices running slowly down my legs.

Sex with Roger was like this. It was always a completely new experience. I don't think there has ever been anything which could be called a 'routine fuck', a situation where we made love just out of habit or because we didn't have anything else to do.

There were two distinct forms to our lovemaking. On one hand, there were the impromptu fucks like the one which I have just described, which usually started because we would find ourselves in a situation in which we had never before made love.

On the other hand, there were set pieces, elaborate celebrations of our passion, which Roger prepared with great attention to detail. Like a theatre director he would prepare the stage, the lighting, the background music, and me, his main actress, for a memorable performance.

The 'something special' he had promised me would be such an occasion. I found it difficult to control my impatience, but I knew it would be a pleasure worth waiting for.

I started to wonder whether the incident which had me lying naked on his kitchen table while he handed an unexpected visitor some material on optical sensors hadn't been planned exactly that way.

Roger would be capable of setting this up. He would let me believe that I was in danger of being discovered, because he knew that this kind of situation was bound to leave me steaming with excitement.

Should I make my own contribution to the upcoming commemoration by talking to Roger about my newly-found interest in spanking? Should I suggest to make my first ever spanking part of the celebration? It seemed an excellent idea, a worthy demonstration of my feelings towards Roger - but something held me back.

In a way, I was glad that Roger wasn't around. Who knows what his reaction might have been. What if he took a liking to this idea of spanking and decided that from now on he was going to give me a good thrashing whenever I misbehaved?

I trust Roger. I just wasn't sure that I trusted him enough to give him ideas about spanking my bottom. It would take all my willpower not to talk about that subject with him when he returned, or when he called. Seeing that it had taken over my mind, it would be nearly impossible to avoid it.

But what if it hurt? What if I didn't get as aroused by it as Fiona seemed to? Once Roger had included spanking my bottom into the repertory of things he did to me, he wouldn't drop it so easily. I had to find out first if I could take it. I needed to find someone who'd spank me on a trial basis - give me a free sample spanking without obligations, so to speak.

'You've gone irretrievably out of your mind, Elizabeth Jane, ' I scolded myself. 'Have you lost your marbles? As if it weren't enough that you let this guy fuck you whenever, wherever and however he wants, now you want to let him thrash your bottom too!

'It hurts! It's meant to hurt! Parents do it because they expect that the pain will make their little monsters think twice before they misbehave again. Admittedly, it's a somewhat antiquated concept of education, but at least that's the idea. There's no joy in having one's bottom whacked. Only people with defective brain cells expect to feel pleasure when they're spanked.'

'Hmm, that's true too.' The hand between my legs which had been performing gentle up-and-down movements, and created a pleasant sensation in the process, stopped moving. Maybe I would be better off if I filed the whole story under 'strange and unusual things which happened to me' and got on with my own life.

After all, what did I have to do with Fiona's wish to get thrashed and then abused by her own father? We weren't even close friends! I had to admit, though, that that conversation during the blackout, our exchange of until then closely-guarded secrets, had brought us closer. But there was no reason why I should let her problems take over my life.

The following day, it almost seemed that I had managed to file and forget Fiona's revelations. I worked very hard, trying to make up for the time lost during the blackout. I even managed to remember my idea for the New Age artist's home page.