Amelia's Awakening

Amelia woke with a start, sweat glistening on her ivory skin, her long black hair tumbled around her face. For a brief moment she thought she was back in the room...the image of the large wooden cross looming in her imagination.

She shivered, pulling the Doona up over her shoulders as her sweat cooled in the early morning air. It was only a dream. And yet...the dream had been vivid, and the feelings she had experienced frightened her; yet also giving her a delicious sense of - she thought for a moment - yes, pleasure!

As she recalled the dream her nipples hardened and her thighs parted a little, with the strange sensations she had experienced; remembered she now realised, from her childhood, and growing into a woman in the convent where she had been boarded and received her education.
She had always lived with this sense of fear: had grown up with the ever-present threat of punishment for a range of trivial misdemeanours: three stripes a week meaning the ritual attendance in the Mother Superior's study. She shivered as she remembered the sensation...the waiting from the Friday when the lists were posted of the girls who were to be punished, to Wednesday, the day of punishment. She did not know what was worse; the actual punishment, or the agonising torment of...lying awake in bed, imagining the pain burning her mind.
Amelia had had many such visits to the study. Unconsciously her hand moved beneath her, fingers tracing the remembered feeling of the vivid welts burning her firm young buttocks.

The vision of the Mother Superior rose before her eyes, a large, severe woman whom she could never recall smiling; the hard bench outside the study; the girls who waited, tears forming in the eyes of the younger ones, trembling at the thought of the ordeal before them, one or two openly weeping.

And then, her turn, the door opening, and a novice calling her name.

The room was still vivid in her mind: the large windows almost to the floor, overlooking the quadrangle; a heavy glass-doored bookcase against one wall, and a large desk to one side of the window.

But the item of furniture which loomed in her memory was the flogging stool:..not really a stool, in that it was higher and wider than a normal stool, sloping forward, so that the upper body was lower than the buttocks, head almost touching the floor, when the girls were positioned for their caning.

Her flesh burning, Amelia recalled with a tremor the terrifying ritual to which she, and so many others had had to submit.
Beneath the Doona her thighs parted a little wider, her hand straying across the rise of her stomach, enjoying the feel of the soft slope of her belly, touching the fringe of pubic hair.
Outside the window, to one side, stood an old gum tree, one branch extending to hide part of the view from the window. She remembered summer days, with the sun streaming in, shafts of light high-lighting the stool, making it appear as an alter of sacrifice, a payment to...Amelia shivered again at the thought; to a merciless god who seemed to dominate every thought and action in their lives.

Beside the stool was a stand, similar to a billiard cue rack, holding a selection of canes.
Shuddering, Amelia re-lived the memory; her fingers opening the lips of her vulva, feeling her wetness, an involuntary moan escaping from her throat.
The novice would take her arm, firmly but gently, almost with a sense of feeling for the pain she was to suffer, to stand before the mother superior, who was reading from a leather bound ledger in which was recorded each girls offence, and the awarded punishment.
"Wainwright! Late twice for mass, and once for PT, and once for being found with hands beneath the bedclothes!"

The mother superior towered over her, arms folded across her huge breasts, enclosed in their starched prim whiteness.

"Have you anything to say?" Amelia shuddered, recalling the cruelty of her voice. She had long since learned that there was no point in saying anything, it only prolonged the moment, and increased the severity of the whipping.
As she relived the fear of her punishment, her fingers caressed her labia, feeling the wetness increasing on her fingers. Her thighs part wider, as she raised her knees and sought the nub of her clitoris, hardening under the pressure of her fingers. Her moans grew louder as the sensation of pleasure coursed through her body, her other hand cupping her breast, the nipple already taut with desire.

The mother superior bent to the ledger, and made an entry.
"Wainwright, eight strokes!"

Amelia tensed, her buttocks tightening as she thrust her fingers deep inside her vulva, anticipating the pain, the tightening of her muscles, remembering the sudden sting as the cane bit into her soft flesh.
"Step forward!"

At this peremptory command the novice tightened her grip on Amelia's arm, leading her to the stool, gently placing a hand in the small of her back, and bending her over the hard wood surface of the stool, breasts pressing onto the unyielding surface, her hair falling in front of her face, almost touching the floor.

When this was done to satisfaction, the novice reached down, lifting her skirt, placing it on the small of her back and baring her bottom, clad only in thin blue cotton underwear, the slender suspender belt just visible above her knickers, holding up the thick black stockings, displaying a few inches of white thigh, vividly contrasted by the black top of the hose. as the hand moved to her ample buttocks, Amelia remembered the sensation of her thighs trembling as the novice's hand lingered on the soft flesh, before reaching for the top of her knickers, and slowly pulling them down, baring her naked bottom, recalling the feel of the sun warm on her body.

Hands pushed her forward slightly, forcing her buttocks higher in the air, now parting
her clenched thighs, forcing them apart.
Amelia resisted, ashamed to show her sex to her tormentors, but the hands ruthlessly spread her, displaying her vulva, the lips forced open, barely covered by her sparse pubic hair.

She shuddered again, remembering her spread buttocks high in the air as she awaited the first stroke, hearing again the whistle through the air, the burning sensation as the first cut burned her flesh.
As she recalled the sudden stab of pain, the burning sensation pulsing through her body, Amelia thrust herself from the mattress, opening herself still wider for her probing fingers, now thrusting in and put of her sopping cunt.
As her orgasm mounted she pushed deeper inside, her buttocks pushing to meet the thrust of her hand, thighs clenching as she strained for release, surges of pleasure spreading within her belly, every nerve taut with anticipation. Removing her fingers, she pressed on the top of her mound, exposing her clitoris, her body arching high in the air, muscles in her vagina clutching and releasing her fingers, a scream of pleasure rising in her throat.

As the aftershocks teased her shuddering body, nerves jumping and twitching, Amelia slowly relaxed, her arms and legs splayed wide, her thighs glistening with sweat and her wetness, she recalled the bitter sweet pain as the cane burned her buttocks, and the strange feeling of pleasure beginning in her vulva.
Satiated, she fell into a doze, a smile at the corners of her mouth...
The sun was high in the sky when Amelia awoke again, her body languid with the thought of her pleasure, recalling the dream which had taken her back to her days in the convent, and the thought of Susannah who had aroused her memories, the forgotten pleasures and pain for so long buried.

The party had been a boring affair to farewell Clive Leonard, a senior partner in the firm who was moving to Singapore to take over the South East Asian office.
She had joined the brokerage firm on leaving university and now, at thirty two managed the securities area. She was proud of her achievements, especially the fact that she had got without relying on her family, or her undoubted good looks. The only disappointment in her life was the sense of something missing: a feeling of...she mused, her fingers straying to caress her nipples; of...unfulfillment.

Even her marriage had been a disappointment. Yes, she acknowledged, Roger had been good looking, and had loved her, yet still there had been the feeling of something missing, particularly in their sex life. She had felt...empty: untouched. She had long ago assumed it was her fault that she never felt pleasure when they made love...she never had, with any of the men she had known.
She had always felt a strange thought that she should be punished, especially when she masturbated secretly, after they had screwed, and she felt anger at Roger's insensitivity toward her own pleasure.
Yet, somehow the little voice telling her it was her own fault would not be stilled.

She had been thinking of this, as the noise of the party flowed around her: Roberta Flack's 'The first time Ever I saw Your Face" was playing softly, the sensuous music tugging her thoughts. As she allowed her mind to delve in the past, she recalled the only time she had ever enjoyed a shuddering orgasm other than by masturbating, had followed an initiation ceremony into a university society; where she had been subjected to humiliation, and forced, although willingly, to degrade herself, and had then been blindfolded and placed over a bench, her arms held by two other women, and told she would be whipped by each member present: two lashes per person.

And, what had filled her with shame, was the fact of being told that male students were invited to watch this final episode of her initiation.
She remembered a pair of hands lifting her skirt, stretching her underwear over her trembling buttocks, recalling her embarrassment that she had worn only tiny, lace briefs and stockings, knowing her sex was displayed for all to see. The hands pulled her panties up into her crotch, forcing the narrow gusset into her slit, parting her lips, accentuating her openness.

And then, the feeling the cold leather of the belt, as it was placed first on her arse, and then pulled down the crack of her cheeks, stroking her gaping sex, as she heard the horrifying words, "open your legs...wider...wider still!" A hand roughly pushed her thighs apart.."Surrender your bottom and ask to be punished!"
She remembered shaking her head, not being able to speak.

"Ask for your punishment, or fail your initiation as being unworthy...ask to kiss the instrument of your pain, before it kisses your bottom!"
Trembling, her body shaking, she answered her tormentors.
"Please, please...whip me..her voice failed her.

The belt was placed on her mouth: she remembered the taste of the leather as she kissed it. And then the long, agonising seconds as the beginning of her initiation was delayed, heightening her fear, her limbs shaking uncontrollably.
Then the sudden rush of air, the burning stab of pain as the belt landed on her buttocks, causing her muscles to clench...again and again it landed, so many times she lost count, the only relief the few seconds it took for another member to take her place.
Yet, as Amelia felt the pain again in her mind, she also recalled the sensation, a delicious warmth pervading her belly, heat stirring in her vulva, limbs trembling as the beginning of pleasure replaced the pain of the repeated lashes.
And she remembered the wetness soaking her panties, her clitoris throbbing to be touched, a sudden emptiness when the whipping ended.

She shivered, and shook her head. She needed another drink.
Encouraged with her drink, she allowed her mind to wander, hearing again the applause and the smiling faces welcoming her into the Soriety.
But most of all she recalled the steel blue eyes of one of the male watchers, piercing her with his gaze.
She shivered again, at the memory of him crossing the room toward her.

"You were magnificent...beautiful!" He had said, "I could sense you beginning to enjoy the pain."
Amelia had wondered at the time how he could have known, for she had indeed begun to experience a pleasure like nothing she had ever known.
He had asked her if she would like a drink, to which she had mumbled a reply, allowing him to take her hand and lead her from the room.
No one seemed to notice them leave.
As they walked from the building in silence, his arm linking hers, to another building nearby, where he had a room. Inside, he had turned her toward him, holding her face in his hands, staring at her for a few seconds, before bending his mouth to hers, his tongue searching for hers.
Eagerly, she had returned his kiss, her tongue caressing his teeth, tasting his maleness.

Her body moulded to his, her nipples hardening, as his hands traced the contour of her body, tensing as he cupped her buttocks, recalling her pain, as his fingers traced the welts, now replaced by a surging in her loins, as he slowly lifted her dress.
He broke of the kiss, and without a word, turned her round and bent her over a desk, one hand exerting a gentle pressure on the small of her back, as he again lifted her skirt. His hands moved slowly up her legs, trembling as he reached the softness at the top of her stockings and pausing for a moment, before moving to gently touch her sex. She recalled the vividness of the moment, as he pulled the gusset of her panties aside, and slowly pushed his fingers inside her.
Dropping to his knees, his hands pushed her thighs apart, stretching her, opening her lips with his fingers, and then, with a shocking suddenness taking her whole cunt inside his mouth.

In seconds she lost control, her whole body shuddering, a scream rising in her throat, as the orgasm raced through her body, causing an uncontrollable writhing, every muscle spasming.
Without waiting, he dropped his jeans and entered her. pushing into her wet, throbbing sex, still sensitive from her orgasm, opening her, thrusting deep inside, his orgasm building as quickly as hers had done, fingers digging into her buttocks as he tensed inside her, jerking as he came. Amelia felt a delicious tingling on the walls of her vagina as his cock twitched, his balls hard against her swollen lips, pulsing as his semen pumped into her cunt.
With a groan, he fell across her back, her muscles clamping his still hard cock inside her.