Amelia's Awakening: Expect the Unexpected (Erotic Novella Series: Ultimate Control Book 2)

by Maggie Carpenter

  “I’m just very happy to see you,” I said honestly. “I wasn’t sure where you’d gone, or more importantly when you’d left.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “This is very sweet of you,” I remarked, the delicious aroma already teasing my nostrils, “but could you do me a favor? Next time you take off like that could you please leave me a note?”

  “Oh, of course, you’re right, I should have,” she replied, then with a cheeky smile she added, “you can spank me for that oversight later.”

  “Mmm, and well I might.”

  “Why don’t you take a shower while I get all this organized?”

  “Yes, I think I’ll do that, but first,” I murmured taking her in my arms, “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “That’s what we need to talk about over breakfast, your nocturnal wandering.”

  “Oh, that, yes, I remember coming over here last night. It was weird.”

  “Yes, it was weird, and it is weird, and that’s what we need to chat about.”

  “Thanks for caring about me, James.”

  She’d lowered her voice and rested her head against my chest. There was a vulnerability about her that truly touched me, and giving her a squeeze, I kissed her on the forehead and headed off to the bathroom. Moments later, standing under the hot shower, I thought back to what I’d whispered in her ear as she’d been going to sleep. It occurred to me that when I’d mentioned talking over breakfast the suggestion had taken hold more than I had anticipated, and when she’d woken up she’d acted upon it. My week had been so busy I’d done no shopping and my cupboard and refrigerator were both bare, so with nothing to cook she’d done the next best thing; gone out and bought it.

  Talk about the power of suggestion, I thought, soaping myself. I’d better be very clear about what I say and how I say it in future.

  Dressing quickly, I walked back into the kitchen and saw the delicious breakfast plated and waiting. I was starving, and I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done such a kind thing. Suggestion or not, I was realizing Amelia was a lovely lady, and her cold professional demeanor was a facade.

  “This looks amazing. Thank you.”

  “I finally found the tea caddy,” she declared, bringing my wonderfully old-fashioned porcelain teapot to the table. “You’re too English not to have loose leaf tea around the place.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” I agreed, “and I do make it occasionally but I prefer it with company.”

  “I can understand that,” she said warmly, sitting down opposite me. “I kept everything hot in the oven until I heard the shower turn off.”

  “Honestly, Amelia, this is fabulous, and on such a rainy day it’s perfect.”

  “Like home,” she said wistfully.

  “Yes, like home.”

  We began to eat, and I slowly broached the subject of her unexpected arrival the night before. She was calm about it, so I took it a step further and told her about the first time she’d arrived in the middle of the night; the visit she didn’t remember. She took a swallow of her tea, then let out a heavy sigh.

  “It’s happened before, but I only know that because of the phone calls I received the day after. It’s so embarrassing.”

  “Is it related to sex in general, or when there’s a dominant involved?”

  “I think it’s that,” she said softly, “when there’s a chance for me to, uh, be submissive.”

  “Have you ever had a dominant in your life, besides me, I mean.”

  “No, but I’ve always wanted one. You’re my first.”

  “What about the other chaps you, uh, visited.”

  “As far as I know there have only been two, and I don’t know how to answer that question. They sort of, disappeared.”

  I had to admit I could understand it. I’d almost disappeared myself. The Amelia with whom I was sharing breakfast bore no resemblance to the woman across the conference table, or the one with whom I’d had a rather frosty dinner at Daniel’s. If she hadn’t asked to come back to my apartment that night I may not have called her again. It was only then she’d shown me a glimpse of her real self that my initial attraction had been rekindled.

  “I have a very close friend in London,” I began, thinking I could now raise the subject of having her seek help, “and I told him about you. Not your full name or anything, but this, uh, habit of yours.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a habit,” she said defensively. “It’s just something that happens occasionally.”

  “Of course, sorry, I couldn’t think of the right word.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “You’re trying to help me. I just got a bit sensitive. What did he say?”

  “It’s a rare condition, and it’s called sexsomnia.”

  “Sexsomnia? Seriously?”

  “Seriously. He strongly recommended you find professional help, specifically a person who specializes in sleep disorders.”

  “Like a psychiatrist professional?”

  “That was his suggestion.”

  She sat quietly as she digested the information, slowly finishing her meal and drinking her tea, then laying down her silverware she looked across at me with a very sober expression.

  “Well,” she began, “I’m sure your friend is right. The strange thing is I’m not feeling particularly freaked out. Considering what you just told me I should be. I don’t know why I’m so calm.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. I have a terrific GP here and I think that’s how I’ll start. I call her office tomorrow and insist on talking to her on the phone,” she said stridently. “You know how these offices are. No, you’ll have to come in. Going for an appointment for something like this is nothing but a waste of time and money and I won’t do it.”

  There she was! The tough, take-charge businesswoman. Maybe it wasn’t a facade after all. Maybe her two personalities lived happily side-by-side, but then it occurred to me most people were the same. I have my tough, cool, professional demeanor too.

  “But James,” she murmured, her face softening as she rested her chin on her hand, “can I ask you something?”

  “You say that a lot,” I grinned, “and I’ll give you the same answer I always give you. You can ask me anything you want.”

  “Do you think, since today is such a stay-at-home kind of day, you might be able to take me up to my knees?”

  “Absolutely! We’ll clean up, I’ll have a read of the newspaper, and let’s see what develops.”

  She smiled across at me, and as she did an idea trickled through my very wicked mind.

  “Actually, it just did. Develop I mean. Go into the bedroom, strip naked, and wait for me on the bed.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Wanting Amelia’s anticipation to build I took my time placing the dishes in the dishwasher and wiping down the counters and table. Finally satisfied enough time had passed, I picked up my newspaper and ambled down the hall.

  “What took you so long?” she demanded when I walked in the bedroom.

  “Not a good way to start,” I said raising my eyebrows. “Would you like to reconsider that greeting?”

  She paused, staring at me, obviously trying to think of what she should say.

  “Sorry, Sir,” she sheepishly murmured. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

  “Hmmm, better I suppose. Roll on to your stomach facing the foot of the bed.”

  A slight frown crossed her brow as she positioned herself, and she looked at me over her shoulder with nervous expectancy dancing in her eyes. I had to smile. She was waiting for some hot smacks, but I knew precisely how the afternoon would pass, and for now her bottom would remain untouched. I stood there for a moment, admiring the view, then moved into my closet and changed into a comfortable sweat suit and thick socks. Opening my bag of wicked tricks I selected a blindfold, then reaching into a dark corner behind my clothes I picked up my
very expensive, very long dressage whip. It’s an implement that has a thin feathered tip that can either tickle, or sting like the dickens.

  “No ropes or shackles just yet,” I declared, approaching the bed, “but you will be wearing a blindfold.”

  “Okay.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry, yes, Sir.”

  “Make that mistake again and you’ll learn about the unpleasant side of this,” I said firmly, whistling the crop through the air.

  “NOOO!”

  “Yes sir shouldn’t be that difficult to remember.”

  “I’ll remember, Sir. I’ll remember.”

  Laying the crop on the bed, I placed the black foam blindfold across her eyes and around her head, securing the velcro in the back.

  “Shimmy up the bed a foot or so, then spread your legs and make yourself comfortable. You can wriggle and whimper, but no talking. I’ll be reading my paper and I don’t like to be interrupted. Any questions?”

  “Yes, Sir, Does that mean I’m going to lie here doing nothing?”

  “That’s correct, any other questions?”

  “Uh, no, Sir.”

  “Remember what I said, no talking unless it’s to say your safe word.”

  She started to settle in, but she paused for a moment and raised up her torso. I silently chuckled. Whenever I start a scene this way, the submissive usually finds herself in a quandary; Amelia was no exception. She’d suddenly remembered something she’d forgotten to ask. Some women accept their fate and don’t pursue it, a few raise their hand like a child in a classroom, others risk asking permission to speak, but Amelia being Amelia did none of the above. She turned around and began crawling up the bed.

  I was enjoying the sight too much to ask what she was doing. This incredibly sexy woman was climbing around my bed naked! What’s not to enjoy? I realized she was on a quest for a pillow, and watched her stretch out her arm and flail it about. Finally finding one of the loose cushions she broke into a smile, then turned around and tried to find her way back to her position. The girl needed help. I certainly didn’t want her falling off the bed.

  “Amelia, please stop. I’ll guide you, though I’m not sure if I should reward you for your ingenuity, or punish you.”

  “I didn’t speak, Sir.”

  “No, but I told you to lay down and spread your legs,” I reminded her. “I did say you could wriggle, but clambering around pillow hunting could not be described as wriggling.”

  “No, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

  “I do appreciate that you didn’t speak, but I do think you crossed a line. I’ll ponder this as I read my paper. Don’t move again except for a wriggle or two, and no talking.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  As she placed the pillow under her head and let out what I perceived to be a contented sigh, I sat with my back propped up against the headboard and opened my paper. I often peruse my newspapers online, but there is something about reading a hard copy that I enjoy. The rustling of the paper, the annoying size of the pages and having to fold the darn thing in half at times, carries with it a sense of ritual I find eminently satisfying, but just as I settled in I had a yearning for a cup of tea.

  The question was, should I make it myself, or should I pull my sweet sub from her comfortable resting place and have her serve me?

  Putting off the decision for a moment, I picked up the crop and began to tickle the thin tapered ends against her pussy. Her responsive wriggle was divine, and the accompanying gasp of surprise even more delightful. I continued the torment for a minute or two, teasing not just her lovely slit but the inside of her thighs as well. No, she wasn’t going to get my tea. If I wanted some I’d get it myself, but something told me it would be quite a while before I’d leave the bed.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was about thirty minutes later I gave Amelia a break. Her pussy was glistening, her soft moans had become muffled cries of need, and her wriggling had transformed into gymnastic gyrations. That might be a slight exaggeration, but she was certainly making her point. I hadn’t teased her relentlessly, just between reading articles, but it had been enough to send her into a desperate state of carnal hunger.

  Folding up my newspaper I slipped off the bed, and ambling into the kitchen I set the kettle to boil and spooned some loose tea into my porcelain teapot. Knowing she’d probably be thirsty I retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and carrying it back down the short hallway I entered the bedroom.

  Expect the unexpected.

  To my complete astonishment Amelia was on her hands and knees, and her fingers were against her pussy furiously rubbing. It was an egregious sin.

  Though the hallway had a hardwood floor, in my socks my footsteps had been silent. She had no idea I had caught her, and my immediate reaction was to march forward and administer a vigorous spanking, but I paused. I’d only administered the dressage whip once and that had been by request, but at that moment I considered shocking her out of her pleasure with a decent swish. What was she playing at? Then it dawned on me.

  I was witnessing either another test of my will, or she wanted to know what that whip felt like and she’d decided to provoke me into using it.

  She wasn’t the only one who could be unpredictable. She was going to get a reaction, but it was not going to be what she was expecting. Opening the bottle of iced water, I walked forward and poured it over her naked backside. Letting out a wail she sat bolt upright.

  “WHAT THE FUCK?”

  Wordlessly I walked to my closet and retrieved my spreader bar and shackles. Amelia was going to learn that messing me with me was not a good idea, but when I returned she’d already come to that conclusion. She was lying completely still as if nothing had happened. The only indication the event had occurred was the water still dribbling off her on to my bedspread.

  “Shuffle your knees forward and raise up your backside.”

  “Sir, I—“

  “Did I say you could speak?”

  “No, Sir, sorry, Sir,” she bleated, quickly following my instructions.

  The moment she was in position I deftly cuffed her ankles and secured the pole, then moved her wrists to the small of her back. She began whimpering. Her position was now decadently lewd, and while that may have accounted for her woeful sounds, I suspected they were from apprehension.

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t stripe your bottom,” I said sternly, picking up the whip and sliding it across the center of her backside.

  “I, uh, was just so needy.”

  “You can’t possibly be suggesting that’s an excuse for such blatant disobedience. You know better. Try again.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’ll try a different question.”

  I paused for effect, then began lightly tapping the whip; it was a warning.

  “This time I want the absolute and complete truth. Why did you do something so flagrantly willful?”

  “Oh, Sir, I wanted to, uh, get a response from you.”

  “Because?”

  “Oh, Sir, I’m scared.”

  “You should be scared. I’m not very happy with you at the moment, Amelia.”

  “I’m afraid to say it.”

  “Hmmm, well, let me put it to you like this. You can keep it to yourself, or you can taste my whip and I won’t be merciful.”

  “I wanted to see what you would do,” she said hastily, “and I had this…this…”

  “This what? You really are trying my patience.”

  “This weird thing…I, uh, wanted to, uh, know what that whip would feel like.”

  What that whip would feel like!

  She had whispered the words. Her fear and her need had been walking hand-in-hand, and her need had just won.

  “Now I have three reasons to punish you. The first, disobeying me, the second, not answering my question the first time I asked it, and the third, hmm, why don’t you tell me the third, Amelia?”

  “Um…”

  “Three
seconds. One—“

  “Manipulating you, Sir.”

  “Correction, trying to manipulate me.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I want you to think about something, and take your time. Ponder it.”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “What do you think would have happened if you’d simply said to me, James, I want to know what that whip feels like.”

  “I, uh, don’t know, Sir.”

  “Amelia! I just instructed you to take a minute and consider the question. I told you to think about it. That’s number four. I’ll repeat it, shall I?”

  “No, Sir.”

  I decided to land a few good slaps. She was being difficult and I’d had enough. Smacking forcefully I carried my hand across her bottom until her skin had turned bright pink and her ouch’s and ow’s were appropriately sincere.

  “Now have you given it proper thought?”

  “Yes, Sir. You probably would have talked to me about it, and then given me a stroke or two if I still wanted it.”

  “Correct. Why didn’t you do that?”

  “I, uh, I suppose I wanted to feel it as a punishment.”

  “And now? Do you still want to feel it as a punishment?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s scary.”

  “You have four strikes against you. I’m going to give you three cuts of the whip, but your punishment for trying to manipulate me will be something different. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she muttered, her voice filled with trepidation.

  She was already warmed up, and though I had no intention of landing the crop with any significant force, a sub had once told me that there was nothing worse than a spanking that wasn’t hard enough. She had claimed it left her intensely frustrated and disappointed. Amelia wanted to feel the dressage whip, and I wasn’t going to leave her feeling either of those things.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I landed the first strike lightly. I knew it still carried a decent sting and her yelp confirmed it. Waiting a moment, watching the red stripe come to full bloom, I tapped about an inch below the mark.