Chapter 5: An Evening with Fiona

"Good evening, Mister Parker. My name is Liz. I'm a friend of Fiona's. Is she in?"

A man - Fiona's uncle, I assumed - had answered the door. He didn't seem very pleased about my unexpected arrival.

"Fiona! There's somebody here to see you." He called into the house. I could hear Fiona shout, "Just a moment. I'll be down in a second," from somewhere inside.

"Just a moment. She'll be down in a second," Mister Parker echoed.

As he stood there, without having anything else to say, but reluctant to let me into the house before Fiona had arrived, I had a look at the man about whom Fiona had said that he made her quiver with desire.

I remembered one of the few concrete facts Fiona had told me about her uncle. He was teaching maths at a Public School. Standing in the doorframe in his shirtsleeves, his glasses pushed up to his forehead, he perfectly matched my image of a teacher of such a brainy subject.

He was handsome, yes, but not outrageously so. I didn't notice anything spectacular about him which would have made him stand out in a crowd. But I agreed that his energetic chin and his firm, steady look could easily make a woman tremble in her bones - particularly if she knew that she was about to receive a spanking from him.

"Hi Liz, come on up," Fiona said as she took my hand and pulled me behind her.

"You won't forget that we have an appointment at seven?" her uncle reminded her.

"Of course not, Dad. We'll be down at seven on the dot," Fiona assured him with a smile that would be appropriate between lovers but not between daughter and father.

"Your uncle doesn't seem to be very happy about my being here," I whispered to Fiona as she led me up the stairs to her room.

"He doesn't know that you're here to watch my punishment. He probably thinks I've invited you to get out of it," Fiona commented without lowering her voice.

When we got into Fiona's room I couldn't help thinking, 'God, what a mess!' There were clothes, particularly items of underwear, scattered on top of her bed and on the floor. I couldn't resist to ask, "Didn't you say getting spanked has made you a more orderly person?"

"I am an orderly person. I hate disorder. I just do this once a week to give my dad a reason to punish me. In the morning, before I leave I open a few drawers at random and scatter their content all over my room. When I get home in the evening I put everything back in its proper place. Today, Deeply Trouble kept me later than usual. I got here just before you arrived and haven't had any time yet to put my room in order."

Fiona continued her explanation as she picked up item for item and put everything neatly into her wardrobe drawers. I couldn't help noticing that she did have some very sexy underwear.

"You wouldn't believe the kind of things I do just to come up with a reasonable list of misdemeanours every week. Of course, I don't do anything that would really upset my dad or that would interfere with my education. It isn't easy to find things that break a rule and result in punishment, but don't really matter.

"Once, I even went to the movies with Simon, the nerd of nerds..."

"Is that a punishable offence?" I interrupted her, jokingly.

"No," she answered, "that's a severe punishment in itself. Anyway, I wanted to come home late. Disobey the curfew, you know? So I asked Simon to explain the plot to me. I had chosen the film, a science-fiction story involving lots of robots and androids, to give him something to talk about.

"Well, he didn't think there was a good shred in the whole picture. Everything was either logically impossible or based on superseded theories. I didn't understand much of what he said, but I kept him talking. Finally, at about two in the morning, I left his flat..."

"You were in his flat? Until two in the morning? And nothing happened?" I couldn't believe that any male - not even Simon - was capable of spending an evening alone with Fiona without trying to get closer.

Fiona looked at me with an expression of mock seriousness. "Dear Liz, you must think I'm a pervert! How can you imagine that anything could happen between Simon and me?"

I had accommodated myself on the chair next to Fiona's desk while she went around the room picking up things and stowing them away. At one point, my attention was drawn to the wall behind her desk which was covered with photographs.

Particularly one, the largest of the lot, almost poster-size, caught my eye. It showed the back of a naked young woman. Her bottom showed clear signs of a recent spanking. Although the picture didn't show the woman's face, I had a pretty good idea who this young woman was.

I was dumbstruck. Wasn't it enough that he spanked her? Did he have to take pictures as well and hang them on her wall?

"This is you, isn't it?" I asked Fiona who had noticed my interest in the photograph.

Fiona smiled. "Do you like it? Don't you think it looks very sexy?"

I had to admit that the picture gave off some strange sensuality. I could see the story behind it. A young woman had her bottom thrashed and then, to rub it in, the castigator took a picture of her punished backside.

"It's kind of a family tradition," Fiona explained. "Every year, on my birthday, when I have to take off my clothes, Aunt Vera tapes my punishment and takes pictures of the result. I have photographs going back to my sixth birthday, but my video collection only starts at the age of twelve. This picture was taken on my birthday before last. On my last birthday, Aunt Vera wasn't around. So there'll be a gap in my records."

Oh yes! There was her Aunt Vera. I hadn't seen any sign of her.

"By the way, where is your aunt. I haven't seen her around," I asked.

"She isn't here. We don't see much of her these days. She's in Cornwall, looking after her mother."

"What's wrong with her mother?"

"Parkinson's. She needs permanent care. There are four daughters. In the beginning they had agreed to take turns looking after their mother. But then the others gradually pulled out. Professional commitments, family, all kinds of reasons. Nowadays, Aunt Vera spends most of her time with her mother. That's also the reason why she wasn't here on my last birthday."

Fiona paused for a moment, obviously thinking about something.

"Hang on a minute! I've just had a brilliant idea. Do you know how to operate a camcorder?"

"More or less. I've done it a few times," I answered, puzzled about where this question might lead.

"Stay here. Don't go away. I just want to ask my dad a question."

Fiona left the room in a hurry. I could hear her rush down the stairs. There was a short conversation which I didn't understand, then Fiona returned, beaming.

"Excellent," Fiona said. "You can make yourself useful. Earn your admission fee, so to speak. We're going to commemorate my birthday with two months delay and you're going to film it."

I was stunned. "But I only came to watch!"

"You can watch through the viewfinder. And if that's not enough to satisfy your curiosity, I'll give you a copy of the tape."

That closed the subject as far as Fiona was concerned. She started to get undressed.

"I'm going to have a quick shower. I feel much more comfortable when I'm freshly scrubbed," Fiona said as she unhooked and removed her bra and then stepped out of her knickers.

'What a body!' I thought. Fiona wouldn't look out of place on the cover of Playboy or any of the other magazines showing sexy women without clothes on. I noticed that there weren't any white patches on her bottom and around her pussy. Obviously, Fiona had been sunbathing in the nude. And her skin looked so silky-smooth, it just asked to be touched. There was a tiny triangle of pubic hair just above her pussy. Everything else was bare.

Fiona didn't make any attempt to cover herself as she walked around the room, gathering a few things for her shower.

I just had to ask. "What's your secret? How do you manage to have a body like this?"

"My secret? I guess my secret is that I get a good walloping once a week."

"No, I didn't mean that secret. I was asking how you keep your body in such an excellent shape."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. It does wonders for the blood circulation. At least that's my theory."

Fiona left me on my own as she disappeared into the bathroom next door to have a shower.

That couldn't be right, could it? If there were a grain of truth in her theory, then women's magazines would be full of articles about this new form of suffering for beauty. There would be reports with titles like "How I got into shape by being spanked" with 'before' and 'after' pictures. There would be ads by 'beauty spankers' offering their services and by people offering courses in before spanking yoga. The cosmetics shops would offer specially formulated soothing lotions for afterwards. I had never heard anything of the kind.

Whatever the reason for Fiona's beauty was, I couldn't help wondering about all the men who had gone out with her and never made it to a second date. Wasn't she the kind of woman men dreamt of? Weren't those men willing to make an effort to conquer her? Or had Fiona's fixation for her dad made her unconquerable? I was sure that Roger wouldn't have any problem to make her dance to his whistle.

The thought of Roger reminded me that I was supposed to tell him everything that happened. How much of this could I really tell him? The thought left me uptight. I tried to occupy my mind with something else.

My attention turned once more to the photographs above Fiona's desk. Some of them were already showing signs of aging. The pictures weren't in any particular order, but it was easy to see how the little girl on the older photographs changed into a teenager and then into a fully developed woman. In the earlier pictures Fiona was draped over her uncle's knee; the more recent ones showed her bent over a massive desk.

All the pictures showed Fiona's naked behind, just after it had been spanked. None of them, except for one, showed her or anybody else's face. The one exception really looked like a traditional family shot except for the fact that little Fiona was naked, draped over her uncle's lap, right in the centre of the picture.

"That's the first one. It was taken on my sixth birthday," Fiona said. She had returned from her shower, still not wearing any clothes, and seen my interest in that particular photograph.

"I keep this picture wall to remind me of what happens if I misbehave. So that I don't forget to commit a few sins every week," she added with a smile.

Fiona took a video camera from one of the desk drawers and sat down on her bed.

"Come here, so I can show you how this thing works. Just in case you don't remember."

As I sat next to Fiona, our bodies almost touched. After a brief explanation, Fiona got up again and took a piece of paper from her desk.

"This is my confession. I have to memorize it and list all my sins without referring to any notes," she explained.

Looking at her watch, she said, "Time to go down."

As I watched her put on her 'punishment shirt', a flimsy baby doll nighty, I wondered why she bothered.

'This thing doesn't cover anything!' I thought. The material was much too thin to hide the shape of her tantalizing breasts. The dark circles of her areolas and her nipples were clearly visible. On top of that the 'shirt' was so short, it barely covered her sex. If her uncle was watching her as she came down the stairs he would have a clear view of her pussy. I wondered whether exposing herself like this to the eyes of her uncle was one of the sins she was going to confess.

I also started wondering about the reason behind my outrage. Was I in danger of turning into a moralistic bore? My upbringing could not be the reason for my condemnation of Fiona's behaviour. My father's attitude had always been to accept other people's choices, no matter what they were. Was this my way of suppressing a desire I didn't want to admit to? I told myself to be less judgemental of other people as I followed Fiona down the stairs.

The punishment would take place in the drawing room which also served as Mr. Parker's study. One wall of the large rectangular room was entirely covered with bookshelves. Near the other end of the room was a massive oak desk. It had already been cleared of all papers and any other objects which might get in the way. One half of the desk was covered with a plastic sheet.

The dark furniture gave the room a sombre mood, in spite of the additional lights which Fiona's uncle had arranged around the desk. Fiona told me to check that the lighting was bright enough to get a good image of the desk and the person bending over it.

After I confirmed that everything was okay, Fiona told me to start filming. She pulled her nighty over her head and stood there, stark naked, right in front of her uncle. There was enough erotic charge in this room to supply an entire village with electricity.

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to record this delayed birthday celebration. Fiona hadn't told me how the other tapes had been shot. I decided to let the camera act as the eye of a voyeur. As Fiona was standing with her back towards me, I started by panning down her back, lingering longer than necessary on her perfectly rounded bottom. Then I moved around to her front where I let the camera pan slowly upward, but not high enough to capture Fiona's face. As my eyes wandered over this magnificent body, I could feel my own excitement mount. I suddenly remembered that I wasn't wearing any knickers.

"Remind me why we are here," her uncle started the proceedings.

"We are here, because it's seven o'clock on Thursday, the time of my weekly punishment."

"Did you do anything you need to be punished for?"

"Yes, Dad," Fiona answered, looking straight at her uncle. "Many things."

"What are they?"

As Fiona stood there, her hands folded behind her back, reciting a long list of misdemeanours, I got some excellent shots of her beautiful breasts, including a few close-ups of her nipples which betrayed her state of excitement.

I was amazed how meticulously she described each act of disobedience. Most of the sins she listed were the usual things most parents complain about: coming home later than permitted, occupying the phone for hours and running up a huge bill in the process, staying too long in the bathroom, not putting her room in order - offences which I might also be guilty of if my father had established any rules.

There were also some unusual items on her list. One of them struck me particularly: Fiona's confession that she had used her uncle's razor to shave her pussy. I could understand that a man wouldn't be very pleased about such behaviour, but I also wondered what made her do it. I suspected it wasn't only because of her desire to give her uncle one more reason to punish her, it was also intended to raise the level of latent sexual energy even higher than it already was.

As she confessed this particular offence, Fiona pointed at the scene of the crime, and I could see her uncle's eyes follow her pointing finger. I couldn't help it. I had to zoom in on her near-bare pussy to confirm that the shaving had indeed taken place. There was a moment of complete silence when only the purring of the video camera could be heard.

When Fiona had finished her confession, her uncle gave her a sermon about why her behaviour was unacceptable and needed to improve. Fiona promised that she would try to behave better in future.

"Do you agree that you deserve to be punished?" Fiona's uncle finally asked.

"Yes, Dad. Please punish me."

Fiona didn't need any further instructions. She turned around to face the side of the desk which had been covered with the plastic sheet and bent over the top of the desk. As she did so, she stuck her bottom out and spread her legs just enough to let anybody who cared to look have a good view of her pussy - a view bound to drive any man wild with desire.

Before starting with the punishment, Mister Parker took off his shirt and applied some oil to his right hand. As I looked at his upper body, just covered by a thin T-shirt, I started to understand Fiona's infatuation for her uncle. The loose shirt had disguised his impressive torso. Now, the tight T-shirt gave a good idea of his muscular chest and biceps. This was a man who demanded respect. I could imagine that many women longed to be held in these strong arms.

Until this moment, everything I had witnessed had looked like some strange ritual, something these two people went through every week. They had behaved like two actors in a rehearsal. They had learned their lines, but delivered them without much conviction. Mister Parker's admonitions and his demand that Fiona change her behaviour didn't sound like he really expected any change to happen. And Fiona's promise to improve didn't give the impression that she had any intention of changing her conduct.

But when I saw Fiona's uncle's hand come down on her bare bottom, I knew that this wasn't playacting. He was spanking her for real. The sound his hand produced when it collided with Fiona's cheeks left no doubt that this hurt quite a lot. And Fiona's gasp at the first impact confirmed my impression.