Paging Dr. Steele: Chapter 26: What You Need

This is a work of creativity. As such, you may see words, concepts, scenes, actions, behaviors, pictures, implements, and people that may or may not be socially acceptable and/or offensive. If you are sensitive to adverse and alternative subject matter of any kind, please do not proceed, because I guarantee you’ll find it here. You have been warned. Read at your own risk.

I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy, or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. If something that I say displeases you, please, just leave. If you don’t like this story or me, please don’t spoil this experience for everyone. Just go away. For the rest of you, the saga continues…

Chapter 26—What You Need


I can’t believe I’ve come to this man’s house uninvited wearing nothing but a trench coat and at least $1500 in Agent Provocateur lingerie!

I’ve had this stuff for years, but never found cause to wear it. Now here I sit in Christian’s playroom on his gorgeous four poster bed with satin sheets wearing the Whitney collection—bra, panties and suspender garter belt. The Whitney collection is bondage style. The bra is only a ¼ cup with thick straps that cross the top of the cup right across the center of each breast just above my nipples to allow for easy access. Various thin straps are situated in a cage-effect pattern, strategically placed around each breast where my cleavage is, over the top of my breast, up the middle to another wider strip that connects two final thin straps that go over my shoulder.

The Whitney thong is merely a thick strap that goes around my waist that splits into two straps at my butt and drops into a provocative crisscross “V” that attaches to two narrow straps that wrap around each thigh. The thick strap disappears into my crevice to connect in the front with a small square crisscross of straps that connect to the wide strap at the top and the thinner straps at the bottom.

The Whitney garter belt is made with the same cage-effect pattern as the bra—various thick and thin straps that crisscross and connect to top and bottom straps with hook and eye fasteners in the back for easy release.

“Covering” this ensemble is the Alina Babydoll—a completely sheer mesh, barely-there nightie trimmed in lace around the hem, up the open front, and around the off-the-shoulder sleeves with satin sashes to tie it together just at the bust. Black silk stockings and black patent-leather Giuseppe Zanotti peep-toe stilettos with ankle straps complete the outfit. To say that I look like I’m ready for action is an understatement.

The keyword here is “look” like I’m ready. Inside, I’m fucking terrified.

I don’t know what the hell I’m getting myself into. I have no idea what’s going to happen…

You can still get up and make a run for it!

Just as I was contemplating the thought, the door opens and I see light come into the room from the hallway.

Too late.

He treads slowly over to meprolonging my agony, I think. Fuck, I hope I did the right thing.

“Ms. Steele.” His voice comes out smooth and deep, in such a way that it reverberates through my body and snatches the air out of my chest.

“Yes, Sir,” I say. Good God, I’m panting already.

“Why are you here?” Oh, shit. I think I messed up. In the only voice I can muster, I tell him the truth.

“I thought that Sir may need me.” I heard it in his voice. I know I did. I heard it in every word, every pause, every breath. I can be what he needs; and right now, he needs control. I can do this. I know I can.

“Stand!” he nearly barks at me and my legs respond all on their own. I’m on my feet before my brain gets a chance to send the message to my body. He follows with commands to stand in the middle of the room and turn away from him, to which I comply. “Stay there,” is his last command before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. I let out a breath I was holding and almost hyperventilate.

Why did he leave me here?

Is he coming back?

Did I piss him off? Take control away from him by topping from the bottom?

A thousand thoughts go through my head as I wait for what seems like an eternity for Christian to return. I’m fighting to control my breathing, but I’m not very successful. I can’t let him see me like this. If he sees me all flustered and frightened, he’ll immediately back off and be concerned. This is not about me tonight. This is about him.

Get a grip, Steele!

A few deep breaths later and I’ve relaxed enough to fend off a panic attack or hyperventilating or any other number of embarrassing physical responses to fear. Finally, I hear the door open and close behind me. One last breath…

I hear drawers opening and closing behind me.

He’s choosing his “weapons.”
Oh, why did you have to say that?

I can hear him padding over to me.

“There are rules for the playroom, Anastasia.” Anastasia. Here we go. “First, when you come into this room, I will expect for you to be in one of three positions. The position that you are in now is position one. Get on your knees.” I drop to my knees as easily as I can in stilettos. “Spread your legs and put your hands on your thighs.” I do as I’m instructed. “Wider!” His voice commanding, he startled me. I jump and quickly spread my legs as wide as they could go in this position. “Good. This is position two. Go over to the sofa and sit.” Again, I squirm to my feet and do as I’m told.

“Come all the way to the edge.” I scoot my butt to the edge of the sofa.

“Hands in your lap.” I obey. “This is position three. Do you understand the positions, Anastasia?”

There is a lump in my throat, but I manage to choke out, “Ye-yes, Sir.”

“In this room, you speak only when you are addressed. Do not look at me unless I tell you to. If you make a sound or look at me without permission, you will be punished. Do you understand, Anastasia?”

“Yes, Sir.” I feel chastised. His voice is deep, harsh, and commanding. I feel the breath leaving my body again. Hold it together, Steele. We haven’t even started yet.

“What are your safewords, Anastasia?” he commands, his voice a little gentler than before.

See? You can’t do this. You’re already wimping out and nothing’s even happened yet.
I can do this and I will!

“Bells and whistles, Sir,” I say clearly

“Good. Stand.” I stand as commanded, and he pulls the satin straps of my babydoll to untie it. I watch the satin loosen and I hear My Dom gasp as the babydoll falls open to further reveal the intricate crisscross bondage-style patterns of the ensemble underneath. His fingers only barely touch my skin and I shiver. As he stands closer to me, I now notice that he’s wearing faded, worn jeans that fit him just so right with the button open at the waist.


I want to look at him so badly. I don’t know how long I’ve been here already and I haven’t been permitted to look at him once. I know it hasn’t been long, but it seems like forever. He pushes the babydoll off my shoulders by its tiny straps and it falls to the floor.

Hey! Pick that up! That’s a $700 piece of lingerie!
Shut. The fuck. Up! This is not the time for you to be talking!

“Take off your panties.” Without raising my head, I unhook the suspenders and slide out of the panties, attaching the suspenders back to the stockings when I’m done.

“Yes,” he hisses. “You are a beautiful sight, Ms. Steele,” he says, walking around me and examining me. He’s out of my sight for a moment and I wonder what he’s doing. Suddenly he snatches me from the side and pulls me roughly against him. I gasp as his hand smacks hard against my ass cheek, grabbing and squeezing it roughly. He holds it there as he growls in my ear.

“This is mine,” he says. “You are here for my pleasure. You belong to me. Say it!”

“I belong to you,” I say, my voice shaking a bit from the shock of the smack. “Only you, Sir.” His hand gently rubs the spot where he smacked me. Then it’s gone, and a few moments later, it comes down hard on the other cheek. I whimper involuntarily, then remember that is cause for punishment. Shit. What’s he going to do to me?


She looks utterly exquisite standing there with her back to me when I return in my playroom jeans. She’s here… in my playroom… and she brought me here. I take a few items from the museum chest and place them on top.

“There are rules for the playroom, Anastasia.” I say as I approach her. She compliantly obeys as I instruct her on the three most basic positions in which I expect to find her when I come into this room. She seems like she may be losing her nerve when I discuss punishments for speaking out of turn or looking at me, so I soften my voice just a hair when I ask her to recall her safewords and that seems to bring her back a bit.

“Bells and whistles, Sir,” she says, her voice stronger than it was a moment ago. Good girl.

“Good. Stand.” It’s time for me to unwrap my present, not that I can’t already see the Agent Provocateur set that she’s wearing underneath. Excellent choice, Ms. Steele, I think to myself as I feel my jeans tighten a bit in the groin area. The straps on the bra cup around her tits perfectly like her breasts are bound by silk Japanese bondage rope. The suspender makes you want to grab on to it and fuck her—hard—and she can’t get away.

“Take off your panties,” I command, and she complies immediately, reattaching her stockings to the suspender when she has completed her task. I must touch her.

“Yes! You are a beautiful sight, Ms. Steele,” I say as I circle her, trying to decide which part of her I plan to dominate first. That delicious ass. Yes! I snatch her to me and slap it hard, clutching it to make the sting sink in while relishing the feeling of her skin on my own. Fuck, one hit and I’m ready to come. I’m so going to enjoy this.

“This is mine. You are here for my pleasure. You belong to me. Say it!”

Reeling a bit from the strike, she says “I belong to you; only you, Sir.” Yes, only me, Anastasia. I caress her cheek and slap the other one—hard like the first time. She makes a small sound. Hmm, should I punish her? Let’s see.

I go over to the iPod dock and pick a song for tonight’s session, something I haven’t played in here before. I go back to the museum chest, retrieve my items and put them on the Chesterfield sofa behind her. I need her to be a little mobile but not much, so I also retrieve two of the chains hanging from my suspension system. Adjusting them to her height, I position them where she’s standing. I attach a fur-lined leather cuff to each of her wrists. “Turn around.” She turns around to face me and the Chesterfield sofa.

“Arms above your head.” She tentatively raises her hands above her head and I attach the cuffs to the chains hanging from the carabiners.

“Spread your legs.” Her breath quickens as she spreads her legs. Now she looks like she’s attached to my cross—only she’s standing in the middle of the room. She looks abso-fucking-lutely glorious. Her head is still down and her chest is rising and falling frantically. She reacted the same way when I bound her with my tie. Something about being bound…

“Look at me Anastasia.” She hesitates, attempting to regulate her breathing before raising her eyes—but not her head—to mine. “Breathe.” I put my hand under her chin and lift her head and she takes two deep breaths. When she’s a bit calmer I tell her, “I’m going to punish you, Anastasia.” She gulps. “Do you know why?”

“Because I made a sound, Sir,” she responds.

“Yes, and what else?” She looks at me confused, my hand still holding her chin.

“I don’t know, Sir,” she answers.

“For coming to my apartment and enlisting my staff to help you get into my playroom… without permission.” She swallows.

“Yes, Sir,” she says softly. In the same spread leg position, I put my arm around the front of her and begin.

She once said she could do anything in stilettos. Let’s see how true that is.


He likes music when he plays, I see. A sensual song plays in the background about making love outside. With one arm around the front of me, my arms in the air held by cuffs and chains, my Dom begins to spank me—hard! The slaps are solid, and they sting! I bite my lip to keep from crying out. My legs are spread apart and there’s a certain warmth that I feel in my groin with each smack. I can’t explain it. The moment that his hand lands, the pain shoots through my cheeks and down my legs, nearly causing my knees to buckle. But the combination of the hit and the subsequent caress is shooting jolts of pleasure right to my core. This shit is scary—and HOT! I’m trying to process this pain, this pleasure, this unfamiliar ache and I completely lose count of how many times he hit me. Pretty soon, one sting continues into the next, and the next, and the next. I push my weight back on my heels for fear my legs will give out, but that only sticks my ass out further for the next few hits.

Good Lord, how much more of this can I take?

A woman is making sounds of ecstasy in the song now and I almost want to mimic her. As the strikes reverberate through me sending those same shock waves to my center, I feel the need to release. It’s rising inside of me, spurred by my Dom’s continued punishment, but nothing to bring it forward since there is no stimulation my pleasure center. This is torture. This is punishment. I want to come. Please let me come.

The Bitch dare not speak right now. She knows as well as I do that we are in no way, shape or form in control of this situation. My Dom lands another strike on my tender ass and I now realize that I’m biting my lip almost to the point of breaking the skin. As soon as I release it, he strikes me again and I gasp audibly, releasing my breath that I had no idea I was holding. Though my legs and my blessed stilettos are still holding me up, my head has dropped back to sub position and I’m wheezing trying to drag in precious oxygen. My Dom is still holding me, the hand that was once striking me is now caressing my sore butt and thighs.

“My God, Anastasia!” he says, his voice growling and his breath just as rapid as mine. “I struck you 32 times before you even flinched.” I sure as hell hope that’s a good thing because I’m wet as fuck and I don’t know if I can take anymore spanking! He holds me until my breathing is somewhat back to normal, then he walks around behind me… what is he doing?

He’s braiding my hair! Okay, this is kinky.

I assume he uses a tie or a rubber band or something to keep the braid from unraveling before he comes back around to the front of me. I’m still panting a bit when he reaches his hands between my legs. I gasp again.

“Anastasia!” he gasps in amazement. “You’re drenched!” As he begins to rub the moisture around my folds. Oh, fuck, what am I supposed to do now? I’m on fire! He inserts one, then two fingers into me and I cry out before I can catch myself. Those jolts from before all shoot to my Dom’s fingers and my legs start to shake. “You like being spanked, don’t you?”

“Yes—yes, Sir…” I can barely get the words out. My orgasm is coming. Will he let me…?

“Come on, Baby. Give it to me,” he groans, and away I go.


Thirty-two. Thirty-two strikes and she still didn’t buckle! When she finally gasped, I knew I had to stop. My hand is stinging deliciously and her ass is a most glorious shade of pink… dark pink. I feel marvelous! Every bit of the day’s stress is gone… and we’re just getting started. Her spanking was pretty brutal—I didn’t go easy on her. I wanted to see what she could take, and she took it all. A punishment spanking is much rougher than an erotic spanking. Hell, not only is her ass going to need some cream, but my palm might need some, too. Of course, when I saw how turned on she was from her spanking, I had to reward her with her first orgasm. She was dripping fucking wet! I couldn’t let that go to waste. I move to hold her up as she rides out her orgasm, but she has her legs locked and she’s not buckling.

This woman is right. She can do anything in stilettos. I’m not easily impressed, but I must say—I’m impressed!

I lick my fingers still dripping with her juices—for my pleasure, because she’s not looking at me. Then again, she can’t now, can she? And now for phase two.

“I know that you were afraid, Ms. Steele,” I say, “which is why I didn’t blindfold you.” I pull the blindfold out of my back pocket and show it to her. “What are your safewords, Anastasia?”

“Bells and whistles, Sir,” she says softly.

“And when do you use them?” She takes a breath.

“Bells when I’m reaching my limits and whistles when I want you to stop immediately, Sir.”

“Good, be sure to use the safewords if you need them. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she answers nervously. Once I put the blindfold over her eyes, her breathing changes immediately. She’s always so responsive to the smallest things. A blindfold heightens your senses anyway, but I think doubly so for Anastasia. Beautiful, exquisite Anastasia. Control yourself, Grey, I think to myself as I rub my pulsing cock through my jeans. As I examine her perfect petite frame, her breathing becomes more controlled. I touch her stomach with just my fingertips, and she jumps. She doesn’t know where to expect my caress next. I gently tickle her thigh above the line of her stockings. Her breathing picks up again. That familiar sheen of sweat is slowly starting to form on her skin. I pull down the quarter flaps of her bra, leaving the strap across her breast in place and exposing her nipple. It responds immediately to the release and perks up in anticipation of the next step.

I’m going to recreate the scene she described to me from the BDSM club.

I pick up a pair of adjustable nipple clamps with a chain attached. I fondle her beautiful perky nipples with my finger and thumb. She’s breathing heavily again trying to not make a sound.

“You can make sounds, Anastasia, but no words, understand?” I say.

Yes, Si… ah!” Before she finishes her response, I suck her tasty nipple into my mouth. Her head falls back as I tease and torment her nipple and she moans in ecstasy. From my pocket, I remove a set of adjustable nipple clamps attached to a chain. I attach the first one to her tender nipple, tightening until it holds just enough to stay put. Anastasia’s breathing has become very erratic. She doesn’t know what to make of this latest sensation. I take her free breast in my hand and bring my lips to her ear.

“Breathe, Anastasia,” I whisper before licking the shell of her ear and watching the resulting shudder. I’m teasing her breast and nipple in my hand as I watch her chest rise and fall in anticipation, fear, and arousal. Again, I suck and tease her nipple to prepare it for the clamp while I gently tug the chain on the already attached nipple.

“Aaahhh!” she moans. This is wonderful! Her first time in the playroom and it’s splendid. I attach the second clamp and adjust it accordingly. I step back and take in the sight. Anastasia standing eagle spread in the middle of my playroom in stilettos and sexy fucking bondage lingerie chained to the ceiling—nipple clamps hanging from her beautiful breasts, shooting just enough pleasure and pain to her core to be only just bearable. And her ass is a delicious shade of pink. I rub my dick again as I walk around her while she is panting in obvious arousal. I pull gently on the chain again and watch her breathing respond.

“Do you like that, Anastasia?” I ask.

Ye… yes, Sir… very… much!” she breathes. I swear she looks like she could come again right now. I take my deerskin flogger from the wall. I rub her stomach gently, then her back, then her thighs. Then I strike—just the way that she described it to me that night—strike and pull, so that the straps wrap gently around her body in a caress, but the ends pierce like little pins… pain and pleasure.

“Aaarrrggg!” she cries out. “Oh, God!”


“No words, Anastasia!” he commands, and I immediately bite my lip. What is he doing? What is he hitting me with? Is that a flogger? My mind immediately goes back to the S&M scene that I described and the way the beautiful young girl enjoyed her torment. Before I can finish my thought, he strikes again, across my stomach so that it wraps around my side and pierces my back—also hitting the chain attached to the nipple clamps and sending a myriad of sensation through my body.

“Ah… ah… ah…” I’m trying to catch my breath. You asked for it, Steele, and now you’re getting it. Another strike across my legs wraps around and tortures the tender meat of my inner thigh. I won’t be able to take 32 of these, but for right now…

“More… please… Sir…” He stops for a moment. I hear his breath catch. He’s behind me. His hand falls hard on my ass and I scream from the pain.

“Silence!” he growls, arousal thick in his voice, his erection pressing hard into my back and his hand around my neck holding my chin. “No words! Understand?”

“Yes… yes, Sir,” I whimper. He is feral… and primal… and frightening right now. Fuck, I feel like I’m going to combust! What’s happening to me?

Oh, no, we’re not having it this time.
This ain’t for you! This is for me.
Oh shit, let her fucking talk. You’re gone anyway.

The flogger soon makes contact with my skin again and I writhe from the pain… and the pleasure. My Dom strikes me several more times before dropping the instrument and planting gentle kisses on my shoulders. The air on my skin feels intense—every sensation is heightened. For the first time, I feel my stilettos failing me, like I might buckle any second. I’m so aroused; I almost can’t catch my breath.

“Are you enjoying this, Anastasia?” he says, his hands roughly holding my cheeks.

“Yes Sir… yes…” I say between breaths.

“Good, because I have one more present for you,” he says. He inserts something into me, short and wide, made of rubber. I gasp! It almost made me come.

Oh, Christian.

I feel him attaching straps to my thighs. What the hell is this? Something long and lumpy is between my legs reaching to the back of me. That’s when I feel the lube massaging my rosebud, his finger requesting entry into my ass.

Oh, yes, Christian.

As if he heard the Bitch, his finger breaks past the barrier massaging the sensitive nerves found there.


“Aaaaahhh!” Oh, God, this is delectable! I push my ass against his hand for deeper stimulation and he pulls me against him.

“Still,” he breathes. “I want you still.” Oh, my God.

My body is yours, Christian. Do what you want to me…

I feel something inserted into my ass—rubbery, like what is in my pussy, but not as wide—a little longer, maybe, I don’t know. He adjusts this instrument and now something is also touching my clit. I can now tell that this is one piece—touching my clit, in my pussy, and in my ass.

He removes my blindfold and he’s standing in front of me, his erection freed from those sexy ass jeans, and he’s stroking himself—his eyes blazing silver. This is definitely not the same tortured man that was on the phone with me earlier. He is so fucking hot.

I drop my head almost immediately. He hasn’t given me permission to look at him yet. He raises my chin with his hand, forcing me to look him in the eye. He backs away from me a couple of steps and sits on the Chesterfield sofa facing me and still stroking himself. My mouth starts to water as I watch him pleasuring himself. My muscles start to clench deliciously on whatever this is that he has strapped between my legs. He’s gripping himself hard and stroking deep, his throbbing member engorged as he eyes me carefully. His finger pushes a button on a remote in his free hand and…


“Hhaaaaaaahhhhhh! Hah! Aaah!” I squeal as this… thing… that he has strapped to me starts to vibrate inside my pussy, inside my ass and mercilessly against my clit. I’m watching my Dom grunting and stroking fiercely at his dick while I’m forced to absorb the constant tingling and vibration in my nether-regions.

“Oh, God!” I scream! Fuck silence, this is unbearable! “Oh, God!” My Dom’s face is strained and I watch as he ejaculates, long streams of cum shooting impressively into the air. My legs begin to shake violently as I watch him squeeze every bit of pleasure out of himself, and I grab the chains holding my cuffs in an attempt to steady myself. While he’s panting heavily on the Chesterfield, I freefall from whatever willpower I had previously. I release a piercing scream as my body erupts into an earth-shattering orgasm—the force of which causes the chain to swing and the clamps to pull mercilessly on my nipples, drawing out the sensation even more.

I have no idea what my Dom saw because I have transcended this plane and I am gone—floating around somewhere in Orgasmland. I just know that when I float back down to planet Earth, he has removed his jeans and is holding me around my waist while he’s un-strapping the tantalizing torture device from my thighs. I shudder in pleasure when he pulls it out of my rectum and again when he pulls it from my core.

“Aaah!” I say, releasing a breath I was holding and collapsing into him as much as the chains above me will allow. He carries me to the big four-poster bed and sits me down.

“On your knees, Anastasia,” he commands. Oh, my God, we’re not done, yet?

I obediently scramble to my knees on the bed, the chains above me giving me more purchase to move since my body is higher than it was when I was standing. My arms are at a 90-degree angle now, which provides sweet relief to my aching shoulders. “Face the head of the bed.” Grasping the chains for leverage, I turn my body so that my behind is facing the foot of the bed and I’m looking directly at the intricate headboard far at the head of the bed while my Dom adjusts the chains. He climbs onto the bed in front of me, on his knees. He once again has to lift my chin to look at him as I follow the rules and don’t look at him without permission.

“You’re beautiful, Anastasia,” he says softly, his voice full of reverence before he kisses me softly then deeply. I was spent a moment ago, but now arrows of arousal shoot through my body again. What this man does to me! He breaks the kiss just as he pulls gently on the chain.

“Ah…ohoo…” I gasp. My nipples are getting tender from the weight of the chain and the clamps, but the pain only adds to the excitement. He licks my lips again before he says,

“Don’t come.” Then he slides his head between my legs and the torture begins anew.


I normally don’t jack off with my subs, but this is different. Anastasia is unbelievably desirable standing there with the Stinger attached to her and when I see her body start to shake, I can’t hold back anymore. I have, of course, completely destroyed my playroom jeans and as I stand to take them off, she detonates into an orgasm, the accompanying shrill I’m sure they heard all the way in the Marketplace.

And she’s going down.

I step out of my jeans and move like a panther to get to her before she drops or she may dislocate her shoulder. After I release the Stinger, I take her to the bed for our last activity of the evening. I can’t help but kiss her beautiful lips—first the soft delicious pair on her face and now the ones in the valley below. I’m underneath her so that my hands clasp over her thighs and cup her behind. At the right angle, my nose could tickle her behind while my tongue slurps lavishly at her delicious mound. Her erotic noises fuel me to suck and tease her tender flesh relentlessly. I’m holding her still against my face so she can’t grind, her legs open, exposing her juicy, sweet fruit to my hot, hungry tongue. Her juices slide down to my mouth as I greedily lap every drop, engorging myself on her magnificent flavor. She’s lost in the throes of passion and I feel her clit start to stiffen and pulsate. I know that she’s close.

Not yet, Baby. Not yet.

I slide out from under Anastasia and turn so that I’m lying on the bed facing her.

“Come here, Anastasia,” I command. She again uses the chains to steady herself as she crawls up the bed to straddle me. She knows what’s about to happen.

“Fuck me,” I say. She climbs over me and slowly lowers herself onto my waiting erection. Damn, she feels good. She’s so wet and tight. She rises and falls slowly, her pussy wrapping tight around my dick.

“Harder!” I growl as I grab her thighs. She begins to bounce—hard!

“Yessss,” I hiss as I raise my hips to meet her every time she drops. I pull gently on the chain for the nipple clamps.

“Aahh. Aahhh!” she whimpers and I swear her walls get tighter. Milk me, Baby. That’s what I’m talking about!

“Is it deep enough for you, Baby?” I ask. “You want it deeper?” I grab her hips and slam up into her bring her down hard on my cock and holding her there while I circle my hips.

“Fuuuuck!” she screams, the nipple chain jerking up and down from the impact. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she mumbles.

“Did you say something, Ms. Steele?” I say, digging my fingers into her hips and slamming into her again, circling my hips.

“Aaaahhh. No, Sir!” she screams, panting in ecstasy.

“Are you sure?” Slam! “I thought…” Slam! “… I heard…” Slam! “… you say…” Slam! “… something!” Slam, wiggle! She is shaking.

“Oh, God! No, Sir! No, Sir!” she wails. “Aaaaahhh.” She’s going to come any second. I still and let her catch her breath. I told her not to come.

“Fuck me, Anastasia,” I growl. “Fuck me hard and fast! Make me come.” That’s when she does something that even surprises me. She takes the excess chain from the ceiling and wraps it around each of her wrists where the cuffs are so that she can get a firmer grip on the chain to stabilize her upper body and allow more movement in her hips and legs.

Boy, did that work! She is riding my dick with friction, power and conviction!

“That’s right, Baby. Fuck me!” I growl, my fingers digging deeper into her hips.

“Ah… ah… ah… ah... ah...” Each moan is getting higher and higher and I’ll know she’ll be coming soon. I raise my hips to give her a deeper stroke. Fuck, this shit is good. They don’t make pornos that look like this!

“Yeah, baby! Take it! Sssssss.” I hiss as I feel my release coming. Her head is thrown back and I feel her begin to shake. I stroke deeper with her as I feel her begin to clench around me.

“Oh, fuck, baby, Yes! Yes!” It’s right there, right there waiting for me. “Come, Anastasia. Now!” And there it is. She detonates into untamed screams of passion, bouncing off the walls of my playroom and floating over Elliot Bay and Puget Sound!

“Ah… Ah… ah fuck! Baby!” Three more thrus,ts and I empty violently into her and I collapse onto the bed to catch my breath! Fuck! That was one of the best sessions this room has seen in… I don’t know… ever? Every other session had no meaning, no feeling… but this time, fucking hell! I raise my head to look at her and her head is hanging back while she hangs breathlessly suspended from the chains.

Oh, shit! I have to get her down from there!

She whimpers as I lift her off of my flaccid member. I have to lift her a bit to untangle the chains from her hands and wrists. I unhook the restraints from the chains and her arms drop to her sides while her head lolls on my shoulder. I lay her gently on the bed. She’s going to need a lot after that session. First, I release and remove the nipple clamps and she whines a bit from the release. The lips and tongue are still the best soothing for that discomfort, so I gently lick and suckle her nipples to give her a little relief.

“Roll over, Baby,” I say, and she rolls, the best that she can—nearly unable to move. When she makes it to her stomach, I get a better look at her beautiful ass—still pink from her spanking. She has mild striping here and there from the flogger. I remove the wrist restraints which, of course, left no marks, but she has some pretty brutal bruising from holding onto the chains. I remove her sexy shoes from her tiny feet. Size 5—yes, I will need that information. I unhook her stocking from her suspenders and gently roll them off her legs. The suspender is hook-and-eye in the back so I open it and her bra to examine the damage more closely. Not too bad and nothing permanent. I go to the en suite and get the Arnica cream and begin to massage her back, her behind, her thighs, and her shoulders. She moans appreciatively as I begin to soothe the pains in her muscles and her skin. I massage her feet and her legs and I can hear her breathing change. I know she’s falling asleep. I grab the robe from the en suite to cover myself, then I gather our clothes and put them in a pile to pick up later. I wrap my baby in the satin sheet and carry her downstairs to my room… our room.

That feels strange… but… not.

I lay her on the bed and she just falls like a sack of potatoes. I quickly go to the kitchen to grab some Advil and a glass of juice. She really should take a bath, but she’s completely wrung out.

“Baby?” I gently rouse her from her sleep. “Baby?”

“Hmm?” she whimpers.

“I need you to take these or you’re going to hurt in the morning.” She’s going to hurt anyway. She sits up as much as she can and I put the pills in her mouth. She sips a little juice to swallow the Advil and falls back down on the pillows. Shit! I forgot her hands. I go into the en suite for more Arnica cream and gently apply it to the bruises in her hands. I hope these don’t bother her too much. I don’t want her to not be able to use her hands. Once I’m done, I gently kiss each of her fingers. She just subbed for me… when I really needed it, she subbed for me. She’s probably never subbed in her life, and she did it for me. I turn out the bedside light and lie next to her. She rolls over and snuggles her body into mine, her face in my chest.

My Butterfly.

I put my arms around her and hold her close to me. I gently unravel the braid in her hair and let it cascade beautifully over her pillow. I kiss her forehead and her hair. This is where she belongs. Here in my arms. Always.

“I love you, Anastasia,” I say, right before I fall into a blissful sleep.


Oh, hell! Hell, hell, hell, hell! I’m so sore! I whimper as I try to move my arms. They’re stiffer than I think they’ve ever been… ever! I have patients to see—I can be lying here unable to move! Good God, that was more of a workout than I thought it would be. I definitely don’t welcome the sunshine this morning. No wonder his subs only did this shit on the weekends. You need a whole damn day to recuperate! I’m never going to be able to keep up with this man. I make a mental note to have Marilyn make me another appointment with Luc—I’ve got to rebuild my stamina.

“Oh, God, help me,” I whine as I try to push myself off the bed. I hear the bathroom door open and within moments, strong hands are helping me into a sitting position and rubbing my aching shoulders.

“Oho God…” I whimper as Christian starts to massage the kinks out of my shoulders. I look at my hands. There’s slight bruising from when I was gripping the chains. The memory sends a chill down my spine and straight to my core.

“Too much?” he says, softly while gently kissing my back.

“I may need to pace myself a bit in some areas next time,” I say, rolling my neck. He freezes for a moment. I look over my shoulder. “Christian…?”

“I wasn’t sure how you would feel after your first experience. It’s good to hear you say, ‘next time.'” He kisses my shoulder again. I turn around as much as I can and touch his cheek. Looking him lovingly in the eyes, I kiss him gently. He takes my hand in his and touches his forehead to mine. “How did you know?” he asks. I sigh heavily.

“I could hear it in your voice. I don’t know what happened yesterday, but I knew you needed me… and you weren’t going to ask,” I reply. I wince as he gathers me into his arms and kisses me deeply.

“I knew you would be good for me,” he says between kisses. “I knew you would.” He set me gently back down on the bed. “What’s hurting, Butterfly?” I mentally survey the damage.

“My muscles hurt more than anything. That means I need to get back to the gym.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Klevnar?” he says, tentatively.

“Yeah. He’ll get his shit together and do his job if he knows what’s good for him!” I snap. Christian laughs at me.

“Settle down, killer,” he says with mirth. I smile back.

“My hands hurt a bit,” I say.

“Yeah,” he says opening my palm. “I saw them last night. I knew you might have some problems with them today.” He picks up two Advil from the night table. “Open.” I open my mouth and he put the pills in, then gives me some orange juice. “What time is your first patient?”

“Ten o’clock,” I say, trying to stretch again.

“You have time for a bath. You should soak a bit,” he coaxes.

“If I soak, I’ll never get out of here,” I protest.

“If you don’t, you’ll never make it through the day,” he retorts. I know he’s right. My muscles are way too sore to even get out of bed and my butt hurts, too. Oh, and my nipples are tender.

“Okay, but I may fall asleep in there,” I say truthfully. When he goes into the bathroom and fills the tub, I smell my Banbu lemongrass citrus bath oil. I know you have to order that especially from Wynn. When he comes back into the bedroom, I ask, “Christian, how did you know?”

“I pay attention,” he says, sitting on the bed next to me and kissing my hand again. He pulls the covers down and looks at my body. “You don’t have any bruising from the flogger. How do you feel?” I shiver again thinking about the gentle lashing from last night. He looks at me concerned.

“Was it too much, Baby? Really?” he asks.

“No, I…” I pause and drop my head. He puts his hand in my hair.

“Baby… please, tell me,” he beseeches. I don’t know why I’m so embarrassed by this.

“I… liked it, Christian,” I say, shyly. I know my face is turning every shade of pink…


Hello World, I’m Ana and I’m a closet freak.
Yeah, I think that was you I heard last night calling his name…
Uh… yeah.

Christian takes my head in his hands. “Oh, Baby…” he says with longing in his voice before he plants another dizzying mind-blowing kiss on my lips. His mouth travels down my neck and then to my tender nipples where his tongue gently massages them.

“Ah… Christian,” I moan tangling my fingers in his hair. “We don’t have time, Baby,” I say, dropping my head back and getting lost in his sensual massage.

“I know, Baby,” he says against my breast. “I know they’re tender and I’m just trying to give you some relief.” He’s right, I’m feeling some relief from the tenderness. He switches to the other nipple and I almost leap off the bed.

“Christian, please,” I protest. I swear my nipples are so sensitive I might come any second. He has mercy on me and stops his massage, smiling knowingly at me.

“Better? A little at least?” he asks.

“Better,” I say, taking deep breaths to calm myself. He lifts me off the bed and carries me to the bathroom.

“I can walk, you know,” I tease.

“I know,” he says, smelling my hair before putting me down. “But I like carrying you.”

“Why?” I ask. He shrugs.

“I don’t know. I just do.” He holds my hand as I step into the water. Whew! It’s hot! Good God, this man must scald himself in the bathtub.

“I know it’s hot, but you need it for your muscles. Is it too hot?” he asks.

“No, I can take it,” I say as I lower myself into the tub. Christian stays in the bathroom with me, though he doesn’t get into the tub with me. I guess he draws the line at going into the office smelling like lemongrass. He takes a glass from the sink and kneels by the tub.

“Hold your head back,” he says. I hold my head back and he fills the glass with water from the tub to wet my hair. The hot water feels so good on my scalp.

“Mmmmm,” I purr as he adds his shampoo and massages my scalp.

“Are there still any doubts?” he asks softly.

“Doubts about what?” I question.

“That we’ll know who needs to sub and who needs to dominate and when,” he says. I smile to myself.


It was very hard tearing myself away from Christian and that wonderful bath this morning, but I have responsibilities. I get to the office just in time to grab another coffee before my 10:00 gets there. It’s a new patient since I’ve opened my waiting list to fill my newly opened Mondays and Thursdays. I still haven’t completely filled the days, but it’s a start. My new patient, Melanie, has been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It’s a perfectly curable ailment with a survival rate of 85% if it is caught in time. In Melanie’s case, it wasn’t. She’s now at stage IV and doesn’t expect to live much longer. I normally don’t do dignity therapy since it’s not my specialty, but Melanie was very insistent that I came highly recommended and I was who she needed to see.

When she’s wheeled into my office, she looks as if she doesn’t have much time left at all. She’s very pale and frail, easily not more than 100 pounds. Her clothes are bright and colorful and she has lost all of her hair due to the chemotherapy, even her eyebrows and her eyelashes. She doesn’t bother wearing the customary scarf to cover her baldness. When I asked her why, she answered with mirth, “That scarf is to make others around me feel comfortable. I’m not comfortable. Why should they be?” I have to say that I like Melanie. She reminds me in more ways than one to remember what’s important in life—to grab it with both hands, hold on tight and make the most of it. I can’t help thinking about Ray and Christian while Melanie talks. I see flashbacks of the happy times in my life…

Allen and me jumping off the rocks into the water in the creek behind our house in Montesano…

Walking across the stage with my degree from U-Dub…

The great times I have with my friends…

Being with Christian…

Watching someone recap the events of their life has a way of making you truly think about your own.

I send Melanie out to make another appointment with Marilyn when her session is complete. I realize that my Saturday standing date with the gang will have to be cancelled due to the meeting of Christian’s folks on Saturday, so I summon Siri on my iPhone to mass-text the partners in crime.

**Food and libations tomorrow night. What do you say? **

Within moments, I start to get responses from my familiar five.

**No Saturday this week? **
**My evening’s free **
**Short notice. Let me get back to you **
**Sounds like a plan **
**Stag or drag? **

That last statement made me think. I’ve spent every night this week with Christian. I have no desire to change anything, but he might. Granted, I fulfilled a definite need for him last night, but maybe he was looking for some time to himself. There’s only one way to find out, right? I fire off a text to Christian. Easier to reject someone by text than in person, right?

**Hey Babe. Thinking about doing one of my dinner parties tomorrow. Just me and my friends, do you mind? **

I wait for a moment, thinking that he could be in a meeting or anything right now and I’m sending him silly texts about dinner. He does respond:

**Just your friends? No significant others? **

Hmm… how do I take that?

**Did you want to come? **

There’s a step out onto the plank. You know he’s no good in groups, Steele. Why would you put him on the spot like that?

**Would you like for me to come? **

Is he leaving this up to me, now, or trying to get out of it? Fine—just put it out there.

**Yes, I would. I know all of my friends’ significant others, but they don’t know mine. If it’s not too much trouble. I know about you and crowds… **

Ticky tock. Ticky tock. Ticky tock. Ticky tock. Ticky tock. Ticky tock…

**How about my place? There’s plenty of room. **

Am I seeing this correctly? Party at Christian’s! Heeeeeeyyy!

**Are you sure you don’t mind? I would love that! **

I barely hit send, I get a response.

**Not at all. Just tell them to go easy on me. 😉 **

I’m all giddy! I’m going to have a dinner party at Christian’s fabulous penthouse! I will, that is, assuming I can rally the troops. I fire off another mass message:

**Drag. Tomorrow night at Christian’s penthouse **

Again, barely hit the send button when:

**Oh, count me in! **
**We’ll be there, fa’ sho’! **
**Changing my plans… what’s the address? **
**Oh, hell yes! **


Another dull day at the office. I spend most of the time thinking about Butterfly and the remarkable session that we had in my playroom last night. My hand still stings a bit from that masterful spanking she withstood and I have to adjust my pants thinking about her glorious ass all pink and beautiful for me. I still can’t believe her very first time she just offered herself up to me… no coaxing, no convincing, no prep. And boy did I need it bad yesterday. I just felt like my mojo was off and I just needed something to straighten it back out again. Thinking about what the Pedophile actually did to me has left a bad taste in my mouth for the really hard shit—the whips, the canes, the paddles, the belts—but I’ll admit that I still need some of it. And Butterfly likes the flogger…

Down, Greystone!

I’m lost in thoughts of a beautiful Butterfly fucking me relentlessly on my four-poster playroom bed when my blackberry goes off. Butterfly wants to see her friends tomorrow night, probably because of the Helping Hands meeting on Saturday. I can barely stand going the days without her, let alone the nights. If she hadn’t ignored my request last night and stayed at home instead, I’d probably be climbing the damn walls by now. I can’t keep her from her friends. The last thing I would want is for her to become a recluse like me…

A recluse like me…

She’s taught me so much already. I wonder…

**Just your friends? No significant others? **

Damn! Did I just covertly invite myself out with Ana and her friends? What if she doesn’t want me to come?

**Did you want to come? **

Of course, I want to go! But I don’t want to sound too eager:

**Would you like for me to come? **

Shit… that might not be eager enough. If we keep going back and forth, I’ll let her off the hook.

**Yes, I would. I know all of my friends’ significant others, but they don’t know mine. If it’s not too much trouble. I know about you and crowds… **

Why do I feel like the kid who just asked the most popular girl in school for a date to the prom and she said “yes?” Hell, I didn’t even go to my prom. More of my life just lost because of that damn blonde woman. All the more reason to jump head first into life now:

**How about my place? There’s plenty of room. **

Home court advantage may be a little less intimidating for me. Hell, I’m a little scared, I’ll admit it.

**Are you sure you don’t mind? I would love that! **

And the fear just drifted away:

**Not at all. Just tell them to go easy on me. 😉 **


Later that night, Butterfly and I go to an exclusive adult toy store in Bellevue and shop for collars. She gets to pick mine and I get to pick hers. We can’t seem to decide on just one—so we each get five to test out. My favorites for her have to be the pearl glamorous choker collar (it has matching earrings) and aluminum link collar. I swear I almost nut myself when I see her wearing it. We also get her a pink one, a braided pearl one and a black leather one with white trim. For me, she picks a woven metal and leather collar (I think that’s her favorite), a black leather and chrome collar (a close second), a black and blue collar (of course—blue is her favorite color), a wide black locking leather collar, and a black collar with hearts. I tell her that the last one looks a little girlie. She disagrees. Hey, she has to look at it, not me.

At Butterfly’s prompting, I also got the silk restraints, the deluxe door cuffs, and some liquid latex. As much as I would like to test some of our new toys, I really put Butterfly through the paces last night. So instead, I treat her to another hot bath and a hot oil massage to help with the aches. The massage knocks her right out pretty early. I take this moment to set a plan in motion that I had been thinking about for a couple of days. I pull the business card out of my wallet and dial the number.

“Hello, Allen?… This is Christian Grey… I’m good, how about you?… Yes, I’m looking forward to it, too… Listen, I have something that I want to do for Ana, but I need a little help… are you busy around lunchtime tomorrow?”

After I end the call with Allen, I treat myself to Butterfly falling asleep in my arms yet again.

“Good morning, Gail,” I speak as I’m walking to the breakfast bar.

“Good morning, Mr. Grey,” she says as she sits my breakfast in front of me. “Is Ms. Steele joining you?”

“In a moment, and it’s okay, I know that she calls you Gail.” I begin to eat my breakfast trying to ignore Gail’s knowing smile. “We’re going to be having guests tonight,” I add. Now she’s looking at me like the beast with two heads.

“Guests? Is your family coming tonight, Mr. Grey?” she asks.

“No, friends of Ana’s. It’s a dinner party—she does it all the time. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind sticking around and helping for a while. I know it’s usually your night off and…” She’s staring at me like I just hit her. “If you already have plans…” I continue. She blinks her eyes a few times.

“No… it’s just… a party, sir?” she asks incredulously. “You’ve just never had a party here before.”

“Well, apparently, that’s about to change,” I say as I continue to eat my breakfast, trying to hide my smile and my excitement. I look up to find Mrs. Jones smiling back at me.

“Yes, sir,” she says, “I’d be more than happy to stick around.” She refills my coffee as Ana comes out of the bedroom.

“Good morning,” she says kissing me on the cheek. “Good morning, Mrs. Jones.”

“Good morning, Ana. We can drop it… he knows,” Gail says to her. She looks at Gail and just laughs.

“Good!” she exclaims as she sits on the stool next to me.

“Your bagel is in the toaster. Coffee?” Gail offers.

“Please,” she responds.

“Mr. Grey tells me that we’re having a party this evening. Do you need me to go by the market for anything? I can start hors d’oeuvres before you get back if you like,” Gail says, bringing Butterfly her coffee. She looks from me back to Gail.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I do this alone all the time,” Butterfly protests.

“Oh, I would love to help out. We’ve never had a party here. It would be my pleasure,” Gail assures her.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind… I mean, it’s supposed to be your night off.”

“Oh, no, I’d love to!” Gail says. Butterfly smiles.

“Well, I would really love the help!” she finally agrees.

“Good! Then it’s settled,” Gail says.

“Okay. I’ll call you around 11 when I get a break and we’ll map out a game plan. Today is my short day and I’ll be off at 1.” Shit! I forgot Fridays are short days for Butterfly. I have to rework my plan.

After Butterfly finishes her bagel and coffee, she and Davenport head to her office. I quickly call Forsythe.

“Allen… change of plans…”

A/N: Playroom song: Trey Songz—Inside, Pt 2

I’ll try to get the story right when I discuss Melanie and her illness. I’m not 100% familiar with it, but my little brother died of it, so I’m a little acquainted with it.

Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc., can be found at

You can join my mailing list on the “Contact Me” page. Just indicate in the message that you would like to join the mailing list.

~~love and handcuffs

2 thoughts on “Paging Dr. Steele: Chapter 26: What You Need

  1. Donna Murray-Hill says:

    oh my god, wonderful got me aroused, love how christian made ana a bath and a massage, wish i would get that lol, you are a brilliant writer, please, please continue, love reading it xxxxxxx

  2. Judith Ross says:

    Wow…what a session. Just one of my favorite chapters. Mmmm.. would love a oil massage. Ooohhh soo excited for his first food and libations party. 😆

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