The Submission of Amelia Pt. 01

The Submission of Amelia

Part I

She sat at the bar, swirling the swizzle stick in her mostly water rum and coke, idly viewing the crowd. Amelia had come here with one intent, to find someone, take them home, and fuck their brains out. No one seemed to jump out at her as a potential candidate for a night of kinky debauchery. She picked the drink up and quickly swallowed it down, throwing a five on the bar and waving a vague goodbye in the general direction of the attractive bartenders in lingerie and tiny thongs behind the bar.

She checked her pockets as she stood, making sure her cash and ID were still where she left them and started making her way through the writhing, throbbing, lust-crazed crowd on both the dance floor and surrounding table. She looked down for a moment, her forward momentum stopped by an awfully hard, brick wall. Startled, she gasped and looked up into the greenest eyes she'd ever seen, the wall belonging to the chest of well-chiseled man, dressed in a blue button-down shirt. The top two buttons had been freed, showing a mass of dark, curly hair peeking out above the v-line.

Clearing her throat, she looked him dead in the eyes, "Excuse me, I wasn't paying attention." She murmured, going to move around him before he could speak. Before she could complete her hasty departure, a thick hand wrapped around her arm, just above her elbow stopping her in her tracks.

"You should pay more attention to where you're going," he said, his voice like silken butter, melting over her in a rush.

"I've apologized," she sighed out. "What more would you like from me?" She said, glaring into those startling green eyes.

"Well," he said, his gaze intent, seeming to burn to the center of her. "You could start by letting me buy you a drink." It wasn't a request, it was a command, one that sent shivers through her body.

"Sorry," she said, almost defiantly, knowing he wouldn't like her dismissal, but he was the first interesting person she had seen in the club that evening and she wanted to see how far this could go. "I've had my limit and I was just getting ready to leave." She tried to free her arm, but his grip was tight, and he wasn't going to let her go. "Could I have my arm please?" She asked, the saccharine sweetness dripping from her tongue.

He looked at her and smirked, "No, I don't think so," he said, pulling her toward a corner table, the lights very low in that area of the club, a lot of privacy ensured by its location.

"Seriously, let me go, I am not interested." Her voice said the words but there was little conviction behind them, she could hear by the smirk in his next words that he'd seen right through her.

"Oh, you are very interested, and I think I might just be what you've been looking for all night." He pushed her gently into the alcove of the table, sliding in next to her, signaling one of the scantily clad waitresses over. "What are you drinking?" he asked, "and you better tell her, or I will order something for you." His words only a minor threat.

"Rum and Coke, top shelf only, the most expensive rum you have in stock," she said, her own smirk playing on her lips. If he wanted to play this game, she could to.

He nodded to the waitress and placed his own order for a very high-end scotch, before shooing the waitress off. He looked at her, a bit like a tiger looks at its prey before leaning in and brushing his lips over her ear. His tongue tracing the shell of her ear, his breath hot as she felt him exhale. He whispered "so, pretty girl, what is your name?" his silken voice sending chills down her spine, she jerked her head free of his and glared at him.

"Amelia, my name is Amelia," her glare not nearly as potent as she hoped for. "What is your name, might as well know so I can tell the police who held me against my will." She smirked.

"Well, pretty little Amelia, can call me Sir." Was his simple response.

Amelia scoffed, then looked at him again, "not likely buddy." Her stomach sinking a bit, she may have bitten off more than she could chew running into the hard, lean man. "Your name?"

"The only name you will get for now is Sir, we'll see if you're a good enough girl to get more than that," he said, his voice crashing over her like a wave. He moved and that's when she saw the waitress had returned with their drinks. He took them, handing Amelia her drink before taking a sip from his own. "So, Amelia, tell me what brings you out to this lovely club this evening?" He set his glass down, turning to her his hand finding her knee and stroking up her thigh to the edge of her short miniskirt. "What is a beautiful, good girl like you doing somewhere like this?"

She shivered as the words 'good girl' swirled around her, did this man have a sixth sense about her need, her nature? "I came to find someone to take home and fuck if you must really know," she bit out, taking a sip of her drink, the liquor burning her throat as it trailed to her belly, only increasing her internal heat.

He smiled, almost feral in his look, his hand skimming under her skirt to find her pantyless crotch, "oh yes, you definitely had one intent didn't you little one?" he grinned as his thumb brushed over her clit, sending licks of fire through her. She jumped, her hips rising against his thumb. She gulped, fear suddenly creeping in.

"What do you think you're doing?" She gasped; her body suddenly liquid with need. "How dare you, I didn't give you permission to touch me." Her voice sounding weak to her own ear. He leaned in, his other hand coming up to cup her throat, a tiny vise, not painful but showing his intent. "I will be making you beg for me to touch you before this night is over," he said, matter of factly, no arrogance in his voice, just the pure knowledge that he knew he could do what he wanted to her and she would beg for it.

His thumb continued to circle her now throbbing clit, she tried her best to stay still but her hips had another idea altogether. His hand around her throat tightened slightly as he plunged a finger inside her wet center, causing her to moan loudly, hips coming up off the cushioned seat. "Fuck!" she moaned, loudly, not worried anyone would hear with the strong bass of the music surrounding them. He slowly slid a second digit inside her, his hand keeping a steady pressure around her throat.

"Do you like that Amelia?" he whispered huskily in her ear, before taking her lobe between his teeth. "Tell me, do you like my fingers inside you? Do you want my cock inside you Amelia?" He began nibbling his way across her jawline, taking her lips in a fierce kiss before she could respond.

His fingers pumping in and out of her tight body as his tongue delved into the warm recesses of her mouth. He gave her no room to protest, his fingers moving within her expertly, hitting all the right spots as his thumb continued to massage her pulsating clit. Her moans swallowed by him and his kiss. She felt her walls clench around his fingers, knowing her release was imminent, her hips bucking wildly against his hand as he assaulted her. Her brain was a fuzzy mess, no thoughts of objecting anymore present. Just a few more seconds and she would orgasm, she knew it, whether she wanted to or not this man had brought her to the very edge.

Suddenly he was gone, his fingers, his mouth, his hand. She fell back against the seat, panting hard, "what the fuck dude, I was just about there!" she whispered loudly.

He chuckled, that smirk back on his lips, "Oh, I know my sweet Amelia, but you haven't been a very good girl, have you?" He asked, knowing full well she wouldn't answer. "It will take a few more lessons before you're good enough to be brought to orgasm." He licked his fingers off, his eyes never leaving hers, before picking up is drink and taking another sip.

Amelia eyed her drink and grabbed it up quickly, taking a huge gulp of the liquid fire. "Fuck your asshole, let me up, I'm out of here." Her body was wet, aching, and with no immediate release in sight she needed to get out of there and quickly.

He finished his drink, looked at her and smiled, again looking like the predator he surely was. "Amelia, this is only the beginning." He stood, holding out his hand to help her up. Amelia's legs were shaking but she did it, stood up and squared off with him.

"I don't know who you think you are, but you can go to hell," she snarled, "SIR!" Amelia turned and made a beeline for the entrance to the club, not stopping to look back over her shoulder. She heard him laughing in the distance, which was impossible because the music was so loud, but she could hear him.

Reaching her car, she unlocked the doors, and slid in. She locked them as she got settled into her seat, shaking and so very aroused her body betraying her. Who was that man? What in the hell, who in the hell did he think he was? She'd never been treated like that before, never been taken and then denied so forcefully. She jumped at the knock on her window.

"Amelia," he said, his voice soft, "crack the window, I want you to take something." In his hand he had a card.

"Go away," she cried, desperate to calm down enough to escape fully.

"I will leave you once I give you this, then the ball is in your court."

She cracked the window just enough for him to slide the card inside. She grabbed it and rolled the window up quickly, watching as he turned and walked away, making good on his promise.

She looked at the card, it said simply.

"Sir

212-555-0712

When you're ready to continue this, let me know."

She tossed the card into the cubby between her seats, turned the engine over, and got the hell out of there. Like she was going to call him!