Big Book of Spanking I

Chapter 8

Amelia’s Reminder

She hurriedly answered the phone, “this is Amelia Carroll.” She was curt and short with the caller.

She’d been swamped with work for two weeks, and with Michael gone on business, she was frustrated and out of sorts.

Amelia wasn’t used to having Michael away, having become such a constant fixture in her life, she was lost without his rules and demands and intrusions in her everyday life. Amelia was submissive to Michael, his s****l submissive. He gave her life order and structure where she needed it, and a spark that excited her; that spark the s****l spankings that turned her aroused fires into hot wild ones, and s*x into amazing adventures.

Being in love with Michael was being in love with an old fashioned gentleman. He was polite, a bit formal, but she liked that. He took care of her and all her needs, a thorough lover, a friend, and when the mood was right, a devilish spanker, giving her body sensuous, and sometimes painful sessions with the palm of his hand or his wicked leather paddle.

Michael met so many needs in her life, though Amelia wanted even more. She wanted to bridge that last space between them, the one that told his old-fashioned sense of manners that it was not proper to spend the night with a lover and that dictated caution in a developing relationship. Amelia would throw caution to the wind in her love for Michael. But Michael would not. It was as if he was biding his time, waiting and watching, making certain that Amelia was indeed the right woman at his side.

Unfortunately on this day, Amelia took an unpleasant detour on the path to having the permanent relationship she wanted…

The phone rang, “Hello,” she heard the familiar voice on the other end, though she didn’t recognize it right off. “This is Michael.”

Letting the fact register for a few seconds, her heart was suddenly pounding more rapidly, though her voice was still terse, as she’d been uncommonly terse for three days.

“Oh, hi,” she responded. “It’s about time you called.” There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“What’s the problem?” he finally asked.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” she tried to perk up.

“I’ll be coming back to town Friday night, there’s a party I’d like to take you.”

“Oh, Michael,” she replied wearily, “I’m too tired, really. I want to see you, but I don’t know? A party? I was hoping just to relax Friday night, why don’t you come by after your party is over?”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, and you haven’t called for two days,” she pouted.

“I’ve been busy too, little princess,” he answered.

“The least you could have done is call. I stay up until midnight hoping to hear from you, and nothing. If I didn’t think better of you, I’d wonder if you found some other ass to spank.” There was a decided edge in her voice, and then nothing but silence on the other end of phone.

She knew in a second, she’d made a mistake. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed.

“Forgive me?” she asked, now being deliberately sweet, even though she wasn’t feeling it.

“Probably. I’ll see you Friday night at ten,” he said tersely.

“That would be fine,” she replied, though she knew something in the conversation was missing. He didn’t like his loyalties questioned. And he wouldn’t like her snapping at him. Her stupid, stupid tongue, she thought. She sighed thinking she’d find some way to make it up to him, even if it was to offer her bottom in sacrifice.

By Friday, Amelia was ready for Michael’s return. Even though she was still tired and stressed she was looking forward to his warm arms and tender kisses. As she prepared to leave her office, she couldn’t wait to get home for a long sensuous bath. She had plenty of time before ten to let the stress of the day subside.

“Amelia, I need you,” Gary said, as he bolted through the room, on his way out the door. Her boss always ran in “high gear.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“Never.” She had to put her foot down.

“Not never, I need you.” He turned and looked at her annoyed.

Gary was a bit of an ass, at one time she’d been his lover, but now they just worked together in his company that shot commercials for cable TV. To his credit, Gary had introduced Michael to Amelia, though Gary had never thought the match would last, and he’d said so many times. Little did he know the secret aspect of this unique relationship that made it more enduring than he could possibly imagine.

“I need someone to help me with this, I can’t do the filming and take care of the lights and equipment by myself.”

He was pleading and Amelia tried to resist.

“Can’t Doris?”

“No. You have plans?” Gary asked.

“No, well yes… Michael’s coming over.”

“What time?”

“Ten.”

“We’ll be done by then.”

“No, we won’t, we never are, you always fudge on these things, Gary.”

“I promise, home by nine thirty so you can freshen your make-up and look your stunning self for Michael.” He was being unnecessarily sarcastic.

“Oh, please no,” she pleaded.

“Please, yes,” he pleaded back. She had little choice.

Gary knocked on the door of her apartment at six, and as usual he was running late and in a hurry. Though taking one look at Amelia in her jeans and a baggy sweater, he shook his head.

“No, no, no, no. This is a special gathering, you can’t wear something frumpy.” He barged into her bedroom and rummaged through her closet, pulling out the sexiest dress she had, a little short red one, with cut-outs across the bodice in all the right places—for men who like to gaze at a shapely female form. She planned to wear it for Michael as a surprise, but thinking it wouldn’t really matter if she wore it just this once without him, she put it on. She flounced her hair and added a little more make-up to match the outfit.

“Ah, that’s better, you look gorgeous,” Gary gushed.

And the two dashed out the door.

Gary’s business brought them to a fund raising event at an old Tudor home in a posh neighborhood in town. After seeing the elegant home, Amelia was glad she’d changed her clothes though she felt a little out of place in a such sexy dress, when the women around her were in more sedate attire. Gary never thought about such things. Michael would. But she decided to forget about it, after all, she was working.

For about a half an hour it was all okay. She had the bartender mix her a stiff drink. Feeling tired and agitated, worried that she wouldn’t be home in time for Michael, she hoped the drink might calm her down. There was really so little for her to do but follow Gary around, a drink wouldn’t hurt.

The little buzz from her gin and tonic made her lightheaded and relaxed, and she enjoyed the feeling, beginning to think that she’d do just fine getting through the evening. Gary was working quickly so they shouldn’t be too long.

While she waited for the shooting to begin, she grabbed another drink, and wandered through the house, absently gazing about the fine mansion and its interesting contents. She was as relaxed as she’d been in days. In fact, she was so relaxed as she stared intently into the bold colors of an enormous oil painting, that she hardly noticed the tapping on her shoulder. When she finally came to, she turned abruptly.

“Oh! My god, Michael!” she gasped, looking into his aristocratic handsome face. He was dressed to the hilt in a formal black suit.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Uumm.. I” she stammered too much. If she hadn’t had that last drink, the right answer would have certainly come to mind more easily. “I’m here with Gary on business.”

“On business?” He didn’t believe her.

“Really, I am. Just look, Gary’s in there filming the little presentation they’re making.”

Michael nodded as he watched his friend on the other side of the double doors.

“You always dress for work this way? I’ve never seen it.” He scrutinized the red dress with a critical eye.

“Oh, Gary thought it would look good,” she replied quickly, forgetting to mention that she’d really bought it for him.

“He picked out your dress?”

“Yes, he wanted me in something nice.”

By way Michael was looking at her, she knew he didn’t find the red dress at all “nice”, slutty perhaps, but not nice. Amelia didn’t like the instant judgment, feeling put on the spot for no good reason.

“What is this? The third degree?” she snapped. She had a burning sensation in her throat and her stomach was beginning to churn. The booze was getting to her.

“You’ve had too much to much to drink, haven’t you,” he guessed.

“No, not at all,” she insisted. She was becoming peeved with his insinuations, “I’ve got to go,” she said, and she briskly walked away. Just for good measure she grabbed another drink off the butler’s tray, her riled nerves needed it. It was her little act of revenge. It was unlike Amelia to forget the nature of their relationship, how he was dominant and she submissive. But with Michael away for nearly ten days, the drink and her exhaustion had gotten the better of her.

As the evening wore on, her eyes met Michael’s several times. His shot judgmental darts at her. No doubt he’d found her too loose for this prim gathering. Once she tried to make conversation with him, but he was so terse, she walked away and attempted to look busy helping Gary.

The hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t stand not talking to him, or wondering what he was thinking, but she had no idea what to say after she’d messed up so badly. Besides, she was ticked with him for being upset in the first place. It was all perfectly harmless and explainable, if he’d only listen.

Another drink she thought, and maybe it wouldn’t matter.

About nine thirty, the party was beginning to break up, and she went outside for fresh air, while she waited for Gary to finish. Michael followed her. “Your work finished?” he asked.

“I suppose so,” she said.

“Then I’ll take you home.”

“Oh, no, I should probably go back to the studio with Gary,” she said, just a little afraid of Michael’s cool detachment.

“Hey guys,” Gary suddenly interrupted. “You taking your girl friend home?” he stared at the slightly off kilter Amelia, “I think you should put her to bed. You know, Amelia, you’d don’t look good when you’ve been drinking.”

Amelia wished he’d shut-up.

“I’ll see her home,” Michael said.

Gary gave them a cursory wave and was gone.

Michael escorted Amelia to his car, and helped her in. Her stomach was churning and she hoped they’d make it home before she got sick. There was an uncomfortable silence as they rode side by side, Michael apparently refusing comment on the evening, and Amelia too sick to try.

“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked, when they reached her door.

“No, I’m not coming in,” he replied sternly.

“You’re angry.”

“I am,” he admitted. “I came back to town angry with you, and you’ve only made it worse.”

“You sure you won’t come in?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t heard his answer the first time.

“No, I’m not coming in,” he said more pointedly. Opening the door for her, he handed her the key and pushed her just beyond the entry. She turned around and looked at his handsome face.

“I’m sorry,” she tried to say.

“Go to bed and get some sleep and we’ll handle this tomorrow.” He was stern, and though still very calm, she could see the fury blazing in his dark eyes.

“Don’t you think it’s better if we talk about it now?”

“No, you’re much too drunk, and I’m much too furious. I’ll paddle you soundly, you can be sure of that, but not when I’m so pissed.”

Amelia felt the familiar rush of expectation flooding through her at the mention of a paddling, though an uncommon feeling of fear accompanied it. She knew she was in trouble, though she wasn’t certain how much, and what he’d do to make it right in his eyes. Michael had never really punished her; she’d never given him reason. All the spankings had been s****l teases. Though they hurt like hell, it was a hurt that turned to pleasure every time. She had the distinct impression that this time it would be much different.

Yet as curious and scared as she was, she couldn’t think about it at the moment. She was much too tired to think of anything but sleep.

The next morning Amelia heard the phone jangling in her ear. Head pounding, stomach raw, she had a first class hangover. Someone once told her once hangovers were caused by guilt, not too much booze; on both accounts, she had good reason for a nasty one.