THIS IS PART II OF PAGING DR STEELE. DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ ALL 70 CHAPTERS OF PAGING DR STEELE OR YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ SEVERAL SPOILERS.
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. I hope you—as a fellow fan—enjoy it, too.
Chapter 10—You Do Me and I’ll Do You
Janet Jackson sings about licking, kissing and sucking as I take Anastasia on a sensual ride in my playroom. Her first orgasm came quite quickly as I pinched and sucked her perfect tits until they were pebbles in my mouth and hands. Touching her nowhere else, I worked her beautiful nipples into painful bliss concentrating my efforts solely on the sensitive nerves there. She tried so hard not to succumb, but her bud is fully exposed and unprotected, meaning that there is no way for her to fight off the pleasure. Not only is it intense, but she must endure it with no relief. It will be excruciating, and she will never forget it.
As she begins to come down from her first orgasm, I immediately go into her next touch sensation. Her whines nearly sound like sobs as I tease her trembling body with feathers—harmless little things, but so powerful when you are unable to move and still shuddering from an orgasm.
This is my body, my woman. I will do to you as I please.
I slow down and ease up a bit when her breaths become uncontrolled. I want her close, nearly reaching her limits… not going over until I’m ready. Just when she starts to relax, I start with the feathers again. Her stomach muscles flex as she endures the combination of pleasure and discomfort and again, I can’t help but gaze in awe at her exquisite beauty, her intimate helplessness. I satisfy my urge to touch her by running my whole hand over and through her beautifully exposed sex—just once. She cries out in pleasure. She sounds like a caged animal crying to be free, and I love it. I love the power and control of holding off her orgasm, then making her come so hard that she wants to cry.
I miss this. I really do.
Once I feel that I have tortured her enough with the feathers, I nestle myself between her legs and follow Janet’s instructions:
I just wanna kiss you suck you taste you ride you make you come too…
I suck her delicious fruit with abandon. Her flavor and scent spurring me on more and more, her cries of passion pushing me further. My erection is fighting to get free as I watch her struggle uselessly against her restraints.
It’s no use, Baby. You belong to me.
I slide my hands underneath her so that each one of them cups a deliciously tightened ass check then bring my thumbs back up to her core—one on each side parting her lips and exposing her delectable, protruding bud. I rub my tongue against her clit—deep and steady. Come, Baby. Come for me again.
She screams as her second orgasm rips through her body. Even in her restraints, I feel her stiffen. She is breathless and panting, and I feel like my manhood is going to explode. I have to have her… just once if I’m going to continue…
I nearly tear off my T-shirt and release myself from my playroom jeans. I climb up to her mouth and drop my balls on her lips.
“Lick!” I command. She sticks her tongue out and, upon recognizing what is in her mouth, hungrily runs her tongue over the surface of my balls. Shit, I love when she does that! I was hoping it would give me some satisfaction… just a little relief from the contact. I don’t know what made me think that—it’s only spurring me on more. I shift and stick my throbbing cock into her mouth. She sucks me in powerfully, moaning in pleasure making her jaws and throat vibrate against me.
“Aw, fuck!” I gasp, and before I know it, I am fucking her mouth relentlessly. That burning, tugging feeling is rising at the base of my dick and before I can stop myself, I am coming fantastically down her throat. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” My dick won’t stop throbbing! Her mouth is so hot and she has worked me into a fucking frenzy just watching her come. It’s insanity. I pull my tender, pulsating member from her mouth then kiss her deeply, tasting our juices as they mix in our mouths.
“You are irresistible, Ms. Steele,” I growl against her cheek. “I wish you could see what I see… how beautiful you look right now.” She is breathing heavily again and sweating profusely. Fuck, she is so aroused that she can hardly stand it. Her nipples are standing at attention and her clit is, once again, pulsing out of her lips. I crawl off of the bed and get our favorite toy—the flogger.
I bring the flogger back to the bed and caress her body with it. Again, once she realizes what it is, she gasps and tries to prepare herself. Ironically, Janet starts to sing about being a bad girl and needing to be punished just I begin to rain blows against Anastasia’s body.
“Ah!” she cries out, tortured and sensual. She is pulling on her restraints again but to no avail. After several blows with the flogger, I use my flat fingertips to spank her soaking wet pussy.
“Aaaaahh!” She screeches loudly at the surprise, high and sharp. This is something that I have never done to her before. Again, it is highly arousing! I actually saw her juices splash from her core against the slap! She’s going to make me lose my mind.
“Oh, Ms. Steele. I think you like that,” I taunt.
“Yes… Sir…” she can hardly breathe through her arousal.
“Shall we do that again?” I almost sing.
“Yes… Please… Sir…” She is gasping now. I strike her once again with my fingertips and I swear she would rip these ropes from the metal frame if she could. She groans deep in her chest and her fists clench as she withstands the agonizing vibrations of the smack.
“Aaahh haa haaaa!” A tortured cry rings from her throat and I continue to punish that pussy, smack after smack after smack. She is wheezing now, animalistic sounds ripping from her delicate lips. I am lost in the floor show, watching her body jerk from the blows as much as the ropes will allow; her mouth hanging open in a silent cry until the next blow rings yet another orgasm from her. As I watch her come again, I strike her pussy softer and faster, continuous rhythm to draw out her orgasm, and she speaks her first transgression.
“Oh my Goooooooooooooooooooooooood!” She cries mindlessly, digging her head into the bed. Again, her body stiffens and stays that way for several moments. I don’t stop the rhythm until her body relaxes. Now, her breaths are coming so short that I am afraid she will hyperventilate.
Not yet, Ms. Steele. We haven’t done our finale.
I go the en suite and get a cool washcloth. I remove her blindfold and gently wipe her face to cool her. After a few minutes, she is breathing normally… and I manage to snatch her breath away once more.
Her eyes grow large and she starts to tremble slightly. I take the straight razor and cut the ropes on her ankles, freeing her feet. I then loosen the ropes on her knees just enough to get pillows underneath her hips again. I know she’s remembering the directional stroke from last week.
No, Love. This is worse.
“You are about to be punished,” I warn. “Why are you being punished, Anastasia?”
“Because I spoke without permission, Sir,” she breathes.
“Exactly. You will remember that your mouth is my mouth. Your body is my body. Your pleasure belongs to me, and if I tell you not to speak, you. Do. Not. Speak.” The words are definite and harsh, and her blue eyes flash a sign of fear again. I thrust myself into her—hard and unforgiving. She jerks away from me, the first time that she is able to move at all the whole night. Her breath catches in her throat and I tell her “Don’t come until I tell you to.”
Her eyes grow very large and fearful. I’ve got you now. I thrust and grind into her with exquisite precision, bringing her and myself higher and higher. I won’t do to her what I did in Anguilla, but I will bring her to the edge of her sanity. I masterfully thrust into her, grinding against all of her walls and intensifying her pleasure with each stroke. Her eyes close and she is lost in her ecstasy. When I feel the sweat start to form on her skin and see her pert nipples pointing at me again, I reach into the nightstand and retrieve my final instrument of torture.
Anastasia’s eyes fly open violently as she hears and feels the wand vibrate against her core. She gasps loudly as she tries to absorb the pleasure of my continuous, rhythmic, deep thrusts and the sensuous deep vibrating stimulation of the wand.
The reaction is immediate—hers and mine. I’m thrust into her and her muscles are squeezing my dick in agonizing pleasure. I can feel the vibration of the wand as well as her wildly contracting muscles. It’s insanely intense.
“Oooooooohhhh…” I groan deeply before I realize I have done it. I throw my head back briefly and relish the feeling of being inside her, wanding her delicious, tight, pink pussy and knowing that she won’t be able to control her reaction for long. I look down at her helpless, aroused form—sweat glistening off of her beautiful breasts now standing at complete attention.
“No…” she whispers, looking into my eyes, pleading. Oh yes, Baby. You are all mine. How much can you take? How long can you endure before…
“No! NO!” she cries as I push the wand into her clitoris and against my shaft so that I feel it against myself when I withdraw and against her when I am buried inside of her.
“Yes. Ssssss, oh yes!” I groan, and the feeling is intense and magnificent.
“Please! Nooo! Please!” she begs.
“Can you… feel it, Ms… Steele?” I can hardly withstand the pleasure myself. It is fantastic torture. I am certain that she is going insane. “It’s exquisite… isn’t it…? And I… told you… not… to speak!” I thrust into her hard and deep on every pause, but I am aware that the only way that she wouldn’t speak right now is if I gagged her. She whimpers loudly, still begging for mercy and I continue to thrust, my knees nearly buckling under me from the unspeakable pleasure.
“Pleeeease… stooooopp!” she cries.
Oh no, Ms. Steele, I am reaching down into that place where no one is supposed to be. I am dusting out the cobwebs and pulling you out of your hiding place, and when I am through with you, you will be completely and undeniably, wholly and unmistakably, irrevocably and unarguably MINE!
“Please! Oh God, pleeeeease!” she continues to cry. I continue to grind into her mercilessly, filling her over and over again. She’s actually getting wetter… as if that’s even possible right now. And the heat… oh hell, the heat! Fuck, the vibrations from the wand and the tightness and wetness from her velvety soft core are almost unbearable!
This woman is fantastic and remarkable… and Greystone is cursing me out right now!
“I… I…” Her breaths are shuddering now. I don’t think she can take any more. “I ca… I…”
“Come, Baby!” I command her. “Give it to me! Come on, Baby, let me feel you come.” I press the wand hard into her core and stroke so deep that even I can barely feel myself moving as the pleasure is so intense and continuous that I can’t distinguish the feeling of the stroke. Her chin buries into her chest and her juices burst from her in mad squirts that match her tears as she weeps out an earth-shattering release. Her body quakes and quivers from the inside out and I continue to stroke her until…
“Oh, fucking hell! Fucking shit!” Greystone has a mind of his own and I swear that he has Hulked-up inside of her and is beating violently against her vaginal walls, punishing me for punishing her. She is still weeping, shivering, twitching, and coming as Greystone continues to scold me for my insolence. He’s inside of her doing a taunting dance as Anastasia and I tremble out crippling orgasms.
So you thought you were in control, huh? Guess what? You were wrong!
Yes, Master. Stop, please!
I’ll stop if you take that wand off of her.
Oh yeah! Shit! What was I thinking?
I turn off the wand and fling it onto the bed. Ana’s chest is heaving violently and her head falls helplessly to the bed, her hair drenched in sweat and she is coughing just a bit trying to catch breath.
“Lady… bug… (pant)… (pant)… lady… bug… (pant)… (pant)…”
“Yes, Baby,” I respond, grabbing the straight razor and cutting the four remaining ropes with quick precision while still inside her.
“Lady… bug…” she repeats, even though she is free now.
“I know, Baby,” I say, taking her in my arms, a little concerned now.
“Lady… bug…” She is catching her breath now, and she tangles her fingers in my hair, pulling my head down so that my lips meet hers in a searing kiss…
We cuddle in our bed, silent after the playroom session. We are both truly sated, I know, but the continuous safeword has me a bit concerned. I know that she is not asleep and just as I am about to speak, she says, “Why did you want to go to the playroom tonight?” I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t tell her that I need her to be safe, to do what I tell her to do… even when I know that she’s not going to do it. “It was because I went to El Nido, wasn’t it?” I sigh heavily.
“I didn’t want you to go, but I couldn’t stop you,” I admit. “Even though you told me every little thing you were doing, agreed to all of my terms and arrangements, I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to protect you from the person who orchestrated the worse thing that ever happened to you, and I couldn’t stop you from going… and I felt every little bit of control that I held leave my body. When I got to GEH—I can’t explain it—I was king of the hill. I had to run my empire and when it comes down to that boardroom, nobody can touch me. The sky can be falling outside of Grey House, but as long as I can go into that building and run that business, all is right with the world. When you texted me and told me that it was over, I couldn’t wait to get home to see you. As soon as I left the walls of Grey House, all of my control left again. I went to Dr. Baker and told her the truth about what I was feeling.”
“What did she say?” Butterfly asks.
“She said a Dom never stops being a Dom. She says that we may be different people at different times but we never stop being Doms.”
“Well, hell, I could have told you that.” I look at her in surprise and her gaze matches mine. “Were you trying to stop being a Dom?”
“I think so… a little…” I confess.
“Why?” she almost shrieks. Do I tell her it’s because I thought it was stopping me from effectively dealing with my emotions? Do I confess that I buried my feelings behind my dominance as a way to control my emotions or not deal with them at all? I felt that I had to expose myself in order to deal with them… to be ready to ask her to marry me. Now that I’m dealing with them…
“The whole idea is to find a happy medium, not deny who you are,” she scolds softly. “Why did we go to that BDSM club if you were going to shut down your Dom completely?” I look at her feeling a little confused.
“I don’t… I don’t want to shut him down,” I finally confess.
“Then don’t!” she says, her voice almost beseeching. “You have to control him, but you don’t have to shut him down.” She puts her hand lovingly on my cheek. “I need him, too.” Her voice is almost cracking. That’s why she let me take her to the playroom. That’s why she trusted me even though I knew that she was afraid. She needed this today as much as I did.
… And it was absolutely perfect.
“I’m glad you safeworded,” I tell her, kissing her hands, “although it wasn’t like a safeword… it felt different.”
“It was different,” she said softly, nuzzling her face in my chest. At that moment, I knew that I was right about what I felt. When she used her safeword, she wasn’t saying “stop” or “enough.” She was saying “thank you.” I pull her against me and kiss her hair. She looks up into my eyes. “Sir, I need my Dom as much as my Dom needs me,” she adds, her eyes begging me to understand. She didn’t have to say anymore. I completely understand… because I need my Domme, too—and my sub.
“I love you, Butterfly,” I whisper.
“I adore you, Christian,” she responds.
“Very nice choice, Mr. Grey, and when do you want it to be ready, Mr. Grey?” Marvin asks.
“There’s no rush at this moment,” I tell him. “I want it to be right, not fast. The other items that I ordered are ready, I assume?”
“Yes, Sir. If you would just follow me to the VIP room…” One thing about Marvin—he knows that every time I come into Cartier, he’s about to make a mint of a commission. I had another associate that used to wait on me when I came into this store, but he made the mistake of selling information to the press about my purchases. I asked the store not to fire him because I had a better idea. I made him—and everyone else in the store—sign an NDA. Well, actually, I told the manager that I wouldn’t buy from the store again unless they signed an NDA. So I guess I should say that I persuaded them to sign an NDA. My only other prerequisite was that Mr. Blabbermouth be present every time I make a purchase from Marvin, which is usually three or four times a year—more since I’m with Butterfly now—and never less than $15,000. Hell, the Love Collection alone was nearly $100,000! I just wanted Sir Loose Lips to see what he was missing. He always turns a lovely shade of chartreuse when I leave the story with my purchases. I’m surprised that he hasn’t quit yet. Maybe he’s a glutton for punishment.
I’ve checked over the items that I purchased for Ana, Mia, and Mom for Christmas and thanked Marvin for his assistance once again as I throw a fleeting glance at Press Boy before I leave. Ana and I are meeting at Macy’s to review the final items that we have purchased for the Martin family. The children had very modest wish lists as they are so young, while Rashon and Joseph’s wishes were mostly functional. They are a young couple—around the same age as Ana and I—with three young children. They just seem to have fallen on a patch of bad luck. Rashon is about 26 years old and had been going on several interviews trying to find work hopefully as a receptionist or assistant while Joseph works two jobs—one for a janitorial service and one in a warehouse—to try to make ends meet. They live in a large house in Rainer Beach, though fairly run down and the bills are starting to be more than they can handle.
I wasn’t sure what adopting a family actually involved but my mother says that you basically provide a nice Christmas for a family who otherwise wouldn’t be able to do it themselves. Ana had the idea to go and meet the family before we actually did anything and I’m very glad that she did. Joseph is a proud man, but not so proud that he would want to see his family suffer just so that his “manhood” can stay intact. However, he flatly refuses welfare of any sort and Rashon agrees with him on that. They will accept assistance from a food bank or a local church or charity, but they will not take food stamps of federal money as long as Joseph has a job and can provide the basics for them. Luckily, their living situation is secure enough in that they are not facing eviction or homelessness. However, it is becoming difficult to provide for their family.
Ana noticed that their appliances were lacking—just the things that save time and make life easier. So we got them some things for the kitchen—blender, toaster, microwave, mixer—as well as a new washer and dryer as the dryer they have is touch-and-go when it wants to work. In addition to buying the children some much needed clothing, Ana thought it would be a good idea to get Rashon some more business-casual clothing for when she found a position as well as three more interview suits with sensible shoes so that she wouldn’t have to wear the same suit over and over again. We also bought some Dickeys pants, shirts, and thermal hoodies as well as work boots for Joseph as a warehouse can get to be pretty cold this time of year.
It’s a frigid Saturday afternoon as the SUV’s drive down the quiet street in Rainer Beach. You can tell that is one of the less swanky parts of the world, but the residents have clean shoveled walks and driveways as well as nicely trimmed houses, all in the Christmas spirit. You can tell that even though they may not have much, they take care of what they have. Even though I’m wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with hiking boots and a simple winter jacket, I feel a little out of place stepping out of a late model Audi in this neighborhood—almost like a pretentious fuck showing off his wealth. I certainly hope the Martins don’t feel that way.
“Ana! Christian! Hi. We didn’t expect to see you until Christmas Eve. Come in.” Rashon invites us in.
“We thought it would be better if we came by today. This way, you can relax on Christmas Eve and spend that time with your family,” Butterfly says sweetly. “I hope we are not intruding.”
“Christian! Ana!” Joseph comes into the living room at that moment. “Not at all! Please, come it. Sit down. Let me take your coats.”
“Hello, Joseph,” I say, shaking his hand firmly before removing my coat. “Thank you.”
“Hi, Mr. Christian. Hi, Ms. Ana.” Kimberly comes from the same area as her father, a huge smile on her beautiful little mocha-colored face. She is the oldest of the three children and her hair is done in two long, braided pigtails with ribbons at the base and the end. At five years old, she is very motherly and protective of her little brothers. The middle child, Johnathan, clings to his sister’s hand while the youngest, Ronald, rests comfortably on her hip.
“Well, hello, Kimberly,” I say in my friendliest voice. “I see that you are taking very good care of your brothers today.” She giggles softly and her beautiful little blush shows through her cheeks.
“Yes, Sir,” she answers sweetly. “I’m helping Momma so she can hang the clothes. The dryer broke again.” Rashon almost throws a scolding look at Kimberly for her announcement, but then sinks a little into what looks like embarrassment. Ana puts her hand gently on Rashon’s forearm.
“Don’t worry,” she tells Rashon, “you’ll have a new one in the morning.” Rashon’s eyes grow large. She looks at her husband who is just as stunned as she is.
“Really?” She says looking from me to Ana.
“Yes, really. You have these beautiful children and your husband to care for. You need a working washer and dryer.” Rashon almost chokes.
“Washer… and dryer?” She’s almost in tears.
“Yes, Rashon. Washer and dryer.” Ana says with a smile.
“I don’t… I…” Joseph stands behind his wife and puts his hands lovingly on her shoulders, giving her the strength to speak. “I don’t… know how to thank you…” she finally says. Oh boy, she’s going to be a blubbering mess by the time the day is over because there is so much more where that came from. Jason, Davenport, and Lawrence are all outside just waiting for our signal.
“Maybe you should sit down…” I say to Rashon before signaling my security team.
The Martins’ modest but beautifully decorated Christmas tree is now bursting with presents for the five of them. Joseph and Rashon allowed the children to open two gifts each and save the rest for Christmas. Rashon has served us some delicious homemade spiced eggnog, and Ana has taken this opportunity to whisk her away to the bedroom to try on some of her suits and work clothing. The children are playing quietly as Joseph takes this time to offer me something a little stronger.
“I’m not much of a drinker, Christian, unless you count the occasional beer—but I do have a little rum that we save for special occasions if you would like to put some in your eggnog.” He has actually said exactly what I wanted to hear, and not because I want a drink.
“I’m not much of a drinker either,” I confess, “and the eggnog is delicious.” I take another sip and set the holiday mug on the coffee table. “You have a beautiful family, Joseph, and you take very good care of them.” He nods and his head drops.
“Thank you. I really try. Times are hard and I hate to see her trying to find a job and getting doors slammed in her face. She’s getting discouraged and a little depressed.” He looks longingly off in the direction that his wife went with Ana. “I promised her more than this, Christian. She’s the most wonderful, amazing, beautiful woman in the world. She gave me three beautiful children and I promised her more than this.” I can hear the pain in his voice. I can only imagine what it would be like to feel like you can’t care for your children and the woman that you love.
“Do you think you have failed, Joseph?” I ask almost incredulously. He doesn’t answer. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Far from it, my friend! It’s obvious that you love them. You made a wonderful home full of love with what you have. You’re working two jobs to provide for your family. Anybody can see that your wife and children adore you and you adore them. You are the definition of success—not money or power or possessions, but what you have here.” He nods.
“They’re my life, Christian,” he says just above a whisper. “They’re my whole life.”
“I know. I know they are…”
We talk some more and I feel him out, pulling him out of his shell a bit about what he has done and what he can do. His background is mostly in general labor, but he’s a young, strong man.
“Listen, I know that you don’t take handouts, but I will be honored if you allow me to do something for you,” I say. He looks at me with trepidation in his eyes.
“Christian, please. It took everything in me to agree to sign up for Adopt-A-Family. I can’t take any more from you,” Joseph protests.
“Then you’re not going to, but just hear me out. I want you to spend these next few days with your family. I don’t want you to go to work at all…” A look of sheer horror comes over his face.
“I can’t do that!” He exclaims. “I have to be at both of my jobs between now and Christmas and one of them on Christmas day! I’ll lose my jobs!” Wow, they can’t even give him Christmas off. That’s pretty sad.
“I figured as much. I will pay you for the days that you miss.” He starts to protest, but I put up my hand to stop him. “It’s not a handout. It’s an investment.” I take out my phone and snap a picture of his bewildered face. “The day after Christmas, I want you to come to Grey House. Wear some of your new, warm work clothes and be ready to work. We’re going to bring these two jobs down to one that will allow you to support your family as well as spend more time with them. We’re going to get you some benefits, too. I pay my employees very well, but I pay them well because they work hard and they are loyal. I will confess that I have done a background check on you and your wife, but don’t take that personally. I do background checks on anybody that I come in contact with.”
I tap out an email to HR and Security about Joseph’s pending visit and let them know that I will confirm his hire in person to avoid the mishaps that followed the hiring of Lincoln’s fucking mole. Heads rolled when that situation came to light and some departments lost employees after the investigation and housekeeping that followed. We won’t have that happening again.
“My employees all have to sign a non-disclosure agreement because of the amount of proprietary information that circulates through my company as well as the fact that the press always wants to get some dirt on me. So unfortunately, it’s a necessary evil.” He has sat there dumbstruck for quite some time before her finally utters one word.
“Why?” I sigh heavily. What do I tell him? I don’t feel sorry for him—he honestly has everything he needs even though he has to work so hard for it. His background check shows that he and his wife have both been continuously employed until Rashon got laid off. When she still hadn’t found a job once her unemployment compensation ran out, Joseph secured two jobs to cover household expenses. Thinking about his situation, I found my words.
“I admire you,” I said, and his eyes grow large. “What you have with Rashon, one day I want to have that with Ana—a beautiful family, a happy home, and a love that withstands any trial. If I can be a part of ending this particular trial for you and your family, I ask that you let me do it. Like I said, it’s not a handout. I expect you to work hard and earn your pay—maybe even grow in the company—but when it comes to my business operations, I definitely don’t do charity. What do you say?”
Several emotions cross Joseph’s face as he finally settles on one. A single tear falls down his cheek.
“Thank you,” he squeaks as he extends his hand to me. I give him a firm shake and he sighs a heavy sigh of relief before breaking down into a mound of sobs. Ever the maternal figure, little Kimberly slowly wanders over to her father and puts her hand on his shoulder.
“Daddy?” she says in the softest concerned voice. “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Joseph envelopes his daughter into his big arms and sobs into her hair. He’s not a bear of a man, but he has the arms and hands of a man who works hard—veins rippling through his mahogany skin as he gently embraces his small daughter. I put my hand on his back just behind his shoulder in an effort to calm him. As Johnathan starts to creep over to his father to investigate the commotion, Ronald sees the tears in his father’s eyes and starts to cry as well. This, of course, brings Rashon and Ana out of the bedroom to tend to the crying baby, only to find a man weeping on the sofa. Rashon is horrified, which leads me to believe that Joseph doesn’t cry often if ever. She runs to her husband and drops to the floor on her knees in front of him, grasping his face around their daughter.
“Baby! Baby, what’s wrong?” she asks him frantically. She looks over at me with big, brown questioning eyes.
“Joseph is going to spend the next few days with you and the kids,” I inform her. “On the 26th, he’s going to start working for Grey Enterprises so that he doesn’t have to work two jobs anymore.” Her eyes grow large as she looks from me to her weeping husband and back to me. “I also want you to give me a copy of your resume. I’m sure someone in that big building needs an assistant, and we have childcare and all-day kindergarten on-site if you want to bring the children with you.”
She gasps and her hand flies to her mouth as silent tears fall down her cheeks. Butterfly comforts little Ronald who is shuddering a bit in his baby tears and before either of us know what happened, Rashon launches herself at me and throws her arms around my neck, holding me in a crippling embrace.
He’s sitting there with all 10 of his fingers spread out and he can move. He is frozen, a look of utter terror marring his face. She’s touching him. She’s touching him and he’s freaking out. I begin moving towards him.
“Chri-” He quickly put his hand up to silence me. Slowly, he pulls Rashon into an awkward embrace. I am stunned by what I am seeing! I can tell that he is holding his breath, but only a handful of people have been able to hug him in his whole lifetime. Now, he is allowing a stranger to hug him. I know that it is torture for him. I can see it in his face, but Rashon needs this now and he is determined to give it to her.
“Thank you, Christian. Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me… to my family…” Rashon gushes.
“Yes, he does,” I say softly to Rashon. “That’s why he did it.” I know that he can’t speak right now. He’s doing everything that he can not to go into a full-blown panic attack. Rashon pulls out of his embrace and he gives her a soft smile. She squeezes his hand and smiles back.
“You’re a good man, Christian, with a good heart,” she says, her eyes filled with admiration.
“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice sounding almost normal. “Please excuse me for a moment.” He could barely get the words out of his mouth before he dashes out of the door. Rashon looks at me as if to ask if she had done something wrong. I hand Ronald to her with a reassuring smile.
“He doesn’t like anyone to see him get emotional,” I lie. “I’ll be right back.” She smiles and nods.
I try not to trip over my feet as I scramble out of the door. I’m glad that I wore my Marc Jacobs snow boots because Christian has walked quite a way down the sidewalk with Jason behind him and I have to run to catch them. When I get to them, Christian can barely catch his breath. I grab his wrist and he snatches my arm in immediate defense. He calms the moment he turns around and sees that it’s me. He puts my hand to his cheek and begins to take deeper breaths. I put my other hand on his other cheek and start to breathe deeply with him. The air is frigid and it’s actually hurting my lungs, but I’ll warm up later.
“I’m… sorry…” he says as he begins to calm. I pull his face close to mine.
“You did good!” I say, looking into his frightened white-gray eyes. “You did really good.” He nodded quickly.
“I tried. I did. I just…” His words are failing him.
“Baby, don’t. Last Christmas, no one could touch you, and now…” I put my hand on his chest and kiss him tenderly. Just like that, my Christian is back. He puts his forehead to mine.
“I love you so much,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. I put my arms around his waist and pull him to me, laying my head on his chest.
“I love you more than you will ever know, Christian,” I say with my eyes closed, absorbing the warmth from his body. He wraps his arms around me and we stand there in the snow for a moment, just holding one another.
“Now, I want you to come back inside because we’re not wearing coats. I’m freezing and I know that you’re sweating and I don’t want you to catch cold, okay?” I say softly. He nods before kissing me gently two times and allowing me to lead him back to the Martins’.
When we re-enter the house, the children are back on the floor playing with their Christmas gifts while Rashon is nestled in Joseph’s lap, comforting him and talking sweetly into his ear. Christian pulls me to him close to him and wraps me in his arms, my back to his front, and nuzzles my hair while we watch this tender exchange.
“He loves her very much,” he whispers in my ear. “She is everything to him… her and the children.”
“I know,” I say. “You can see it in his eyes, and she absolutely adores him. The way that she speaks of him, no one else in the world exists for her.”
“I know the feeling,” he croons. I turn my head around to look at him over my shoulder.
“So do I,” I whisper back as we share a private moment and a gentle kiss in the Martins’ small foyer. Christian sighs heavily and brings my hands to lips before escorting me back into the living room.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes upon entering. “I didn’t mean to be such a wimp.”
“Are you kiddin’?” Joseph asks incredulously. “Did you not just witness this mountain of blubbering sobs?” Joseph laughs at himself and Christian soon joins in. Rashon and I look at each other to confirm that all is now okay with our two “emotional” men.
“Right there, Baby. Can you feel it?” Christian is stroking me deliciously as the wand runs up and down my core, from the top of clit all the way down to where he is pounding into my sex.
“No… please…” I’m begging, but not for him to stop. I’m begging for him to let me come. Please, Sir… please let me come. The rope is burning into my wrists and at the crease of knees. I know they will leave bruises, but I don’t care. The pain mixes with the painful pleasure that is colliding at my core and I can’t take much more of this.
“Pleeeeeaaaase!” Please, Sir, let me come! I won’t have time to safeword. It’s too much… it’s too good… oh please, Sir. That’s when I hear his soul speaking to me…
You are mine. This body… this soul… this mind… all of your pleasure… you belong to me. I will use this body as I please. I will paint masterpieces with your sensations, sculpt priceless works of art into your skin, and create hauntingly beautiful melodies with your cries of pleasure. I will make your soul sing. You. Belong. To. Me.
Yes, Master. I belong to you. I am yours… forever.
“Come for me, my beloved.” My body is mercilessly ripped apart by a powerful orgasm, one that I feel in my fingertips. We float off the bed and my body is nothing but exquisite sensations—wrapped in air and pleasure as my man continues to thrust into me, over and over, drawing my orgasm out longer and longer.
“You are mine! You are mine! You are mine!” he chants powerfully on each thrust. Oh, God, yes, I am yours. He is relentless and I know that he won’t stop. He wants to be sure that I know… that I am certain…
There is no other man for me.
“Christian!” I cry out.
I sit straight up in our bed, my body drenched in sweat and my clit throbbing from the intensity of my second nocturnal orgasm since that night in the playroom. What has he done to me? I dream about him loving me intensely. I get lost in thought several times during the day thinking about him touching me. This man has possessed me. I didn’t think he could possess me more than he already did, but he has. It’s a wonderful feeling, but I still don’t want to be all crazy and obsessive and clingy and shit. I have to laugh at myself a bit as I am still trying to catch my breath. This beats dreams about Green Valley any damn day of the week!
Christian is not in bed next to me. I’m kind of glad about that. Wherever he is, he didn’t see the wet dream. I would probably never hear the end of it. I get out of bed and go to the shower. It Christmas Eve and I have some plans of my own for this day!
After allowing the hot water to caress my body and hair for several minutes, I get out of the shower and put on an oversized brown and white sweater with festive patterns at the top and a pair of yoga pants. I blow-dry my hair into a sexy, wild, just-been-fucked look and go in search of my man. I find him at the breakfast bar, eating an omelet and reading the paper—typical Christian. I tiptoe behind him and just as I am about to sneak up and kiss him on the neck, he says, “I know you’re there.”
“Damn it!” I exclaim, smacking him on the shoulder and he laughs at me. I kiss him on the cheek. “I thought Gail and Jason had the day off today.”
“They do, but they’re still here. Gail offered to fix something for me before they went to visit family for a bit. I never understood the tradition of visiting family on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas.”
“Me either,” I said going to the kitchen to find myself some breakfast.
“Gail says she will come and fix you some breakfast if you like,” Christian informs me.
“She’ll do no such thing!” I scold. “It’s her day off and she’s going to go and see her family.”
“…And on that note, we’ll be taking our leave,” Gail says as she breezes into the kitchen in a lovely Alexander McQueen runway red oversized sweater dress with red legging tights and a pair of Giuseppe Zanotti black suede jeweled grommet booties. That outfit set somebody back a pretty penny, and she looks hot!
“Holy cow, Gail!” I exclaim when she fully comes into the kitchen. We embrace warmly. “You are smokin’!” She spins around to show off her outfit. “Alexander McQueen?”
“One and the same. My Christmas present from a certain extravagant husband.” She is beaming with pride.
“Outstanding!” I confirm. “You look fabulous. So what’s on the agenda today?”
“First, we’ll be going to spend some time with Sophie…”
“I’m surprised the bitch gave me any time at all with her,” Jason snaps, walking into the great room with bags and presents. He’s looking rather handsome in a gray wool crew neck sweater and very nice black jeans and heaven help me, I just looked at this man’s ass!
“Jason, be nice,” Gail says, thankfully bringing my gaze back to her.
“Have you ever met her?” I ask Gail. She sighs.
“No, and I’m not looking forward to it. From what I can tell, she’s a real pill,” she responds.
“Try not to let it ruin your holiday, okay?” I say, pulling her into another embrace.
“I’ll try, considering that after that, we have more judgmental extended family to visit. The highlight of my day with be spending the night at the Heathman with my gorgeous husband. Look at him. Isn’t he hot?” she says, gesturing towards Jason. I laugh nervously. I was just looking at his ass.
“I’m sorry, Gail. I only have eyes for one,” I say sweetly, “although you are looking rather smart today, Jason,” I add. There, that was safe.
“Why, thank you, Your Highness,” he says with a dramatic bow. I roll my eyes, shake my head and laugh.
“Get outta here.” I tease, walking Gail to the door to get her coat. Christian comes behind me and shakes Jason’s hand.
“Have a Merry Christmas, Jason. Enjoy yourselves,” he says with a smile.
“You, too, Boss,” he says before gathering the bags and presents again.
Christian kisses Gail on the cheek and whispers, “Don’t let her scare you. Her bark is worse than her bite.”
“So you say—nothing scares you,” she smirks. I see a fleeting expression come across his face and then, it’s gone as quickly as it came. He smiles at Gail and gives her arms another squeeze.
“Drive carefully,” I say, tiptoeing to kiss Jason on the cheek. He blushes a bit and smiles.
“I will. Take care of him. It’s his first real Christmas, at least since I’ve known him.” I smile back at him.
“I’ll do that.” I assure him. We watch as he and Gail board the elevator and then close the door. He pushes me hard against the door and looks into my eyes. I gasp at the surprise as his lips cover mine. He raises my hands over my head and entwines his fingers in mine. His tongue demands entrance to my mouth and I grant it. He is kissing me hungrily, savagely, and my body is on fire all over again. I haven’t even had my breakfast yet!
His hands travel slowly down my arms over my shoulders and up to my cheeks. Though he kissed me with complete abandon, he releases my lips with a gentleness that snatches what’s left of my breath away. His eyes bore into mine as he breathes, “I love you with everything that I have.”
“I know,” I whisper, unable to come close to the intensity he is giving me. He closes his eyes and rubs his nose against mine. It’s so sensual and intimate. I bring my hands down to his hair and gently massage his scalp.
“Are you okay, Baby?” I ask, concerned. Something is not quite right. Even though his kiss was full of passion and his touch and words show nothing but love, his body is radiating fear and tension.
“I… I…” he stutters, then nods. “I’m okay.” No, you’re not, but I won’t press it right now.
“Okay. Come. Finish your breakfast before it gets cold,” I coerce him, taking his hand in mind and kissing his palm before leading him back to the breakfast bar. I decide to give him a bit of a show as he finishes his breakfast—just something to take his mind off of whatever is troubling him. I purposely wore a thong with my favorite pair of yoga pants… the ones that hug every curve and make you look naked. I am bending and stretching all over the kitchen, giving him a full-time view of what he calls my “fantastic ass” while holding a general conversation with him like I am completely unaware of what I’m doing. I could hear him gasp audibly when I have to climb onto the counter to reach something in the highest shelf. I plaster on my perfect innocent concerned look when I turn to him and ask, “Baby, are you alright?”
He actually has to snap himself out of his stupor and I have to fight to keep from smirking at him. “Uh, yeah… you just… startled me getting on the counter. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Can I help you with something?” You’re a terrible liar, Grey. Now, I giggle.
“Christian, I’ve done this a thousand times, but I don’t want to give you a heart attack so I’ll get down.” I move to slide off the counter and he’s there in front of me in a millisecond, taking me around my hips and lifting me gently and effortlessly to set my feet firmly on the floor. I turn to face him and there’s fire in his eyes. Mission accomplished, but I think too well.
“Thank you,” I breathe, looking into molten gray irises.
“You’re welcome,” he almost growls, his baritone voice thick with unleashed desire. Fuck me, he’s hot. I finally come back to myself.
“Finish your breakfast, Mr. Grey,” I say softly. He smiles before taking his seat again.
Christian is finally able to finish his breakfast and I am able to get some food in me as well while we talk about our plans.
“Do you have an agenda for today, Mr. Grey?” I ask while I am finishing the last of my scrambled eggs.
“Nope. I’ve never done Christmas Eve before. You know this is the first time I’ve even had a tree in the house.”
“And what a magnificent tree it is,” I say looking at the large 12-foot tree in our great room—not the largest we could get, but it’s what we wanted. It’s trimmed with silver and gold ornaments and simple white lights with several presents for our family and friends underneath. Christian is still working on his feelings toward the Scooby Gang and although I still haven’t failed to see them at least one weekend day since the Melanie Breakdown, we haven’t had another Food and Libations yet.
“Well, I have a couple of traditions that you can partake in if you like,” I say sweetly.
“Oh? Such as?”
“Well, I bake cookies… hoards and hoards of cookies.” His eyes grow large.
“Really?” Now, why is that so hard to believe?
“Yes,” I say almost affronted.
“What kind of cookies?” He leans in. Oh, he’s interested. I laugh.
“Gingerbread, butter cookies, sugar cookies, lemon bars, and chocolate-chip-pecan,” I tell him. His eyes actually sparkle.
“Ooooo, okay! We can do that! What else?” He’s going to gorge himself on cookies. I just know it.
“I crack open a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, play Christmas carols and finish wrapping my gifts.” He nods.
“You still have gifts to wrap?” he asks.
“I always save a few to wrap on Christmas Eve,” I respond.
“Okay, anything else?”
“Well, I usually have spiced cider with Al and we shoot the shit and make resolutions that we know that we aren’t going to keep. However, he is in Arizona with James until the 29th, so that’s out.”
“What will you do in place of that?” he inquires.
“I still have two more things that I do.” I smile. “I open one gift, and then I light a fire and eat cookies and milk while I watch old Christmas movies.”
“That sounds cozy,” he says, pulling me to him and kissing my neck.
“It is. It’s very cozy… even cozier when I have someone to share it with.” I drape my arms around his neck.
“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get started!” he exclaims playfully.
We probably made 300 cookies today! How in the hell do you make 300 cookies?
“Butterfly, what are you going to do with all of these cookies?” I ask as she appears to be putting some in little boxes and bags.
“I’ll take some to your mother. I eat them during the Christmas movie binge and in the days after Christmas, but I give most of them away.” Whew! That’s a relief. They look delicious, but I can’t be responsible for eating 300 cookies, although those pecan-chocolate-chip…
“Did you think you were going to eat them all?” she laughs. Well, yes, initially—until the stack kept getting bigger and bigger.
“I’ll eat a lot of them,” I respond with a smile, “but even I can’t handle several dozen cookies.”
“Well, it’s time to move on. I’ve wrapped my remaining presents and now I want to open one of mine,” she declares.
“Can it be from me?” I ask. She looks at me coyly.
“I guess that would be appropriate,” she smiles. I hand her an envelope that I have been aching to give her ever since the Adopt-A-Family Affair. She looks at it a bit puzzled.
“A letter?” she asks, bemused.
“Open it,” I say softly. She carefully opens the envelope and reads the letter. The further down she gets on the letter, her hand flies up to her mouth. Her knees give way and she falls back onto the sofa.
“Does this mean what I think it means?” she asks. I nod and kneel in front of her.
“I’m going to mentor Marlow,” I tell her. “If he does well, I’m going to pay his way through college.”
“Oh my God, Christian!” She throws her arms around me and embraces me tightly. I knew that she was hurt when we didn’t get them in the Adopt-A-Family drawing. Even though we are doing some amazing things for the family that we did adopt, I know my Butterfly enough to know that there is still a small feeling of emptiness because we didn’t get the Whiteheads.
“You are a wonderful, beautiful, kind, and magnificent man!” she says, her face still buried in my neck.
“If I am, it’s only because I have a wonderful, beautiful, kind, and magnificent woman by my side.” She looks at me with tears in her eyes and shakes her head.
“You are just too much,” she sniffs. “Nothing that I could give you could compare to this.”
“Try me,” I say. That’s just money and time, Butterfly. Anything that you give me will be better than that. She sighs and hands me her gift. It’s a very small box from Sparrow’s. I open it to find a pair of cufflinks inside—black and silver with the Sparrow’s emblem on them. Hmm…
“I didn’t know that Sparrow’s made cufflinks, Baby.” I say bemused. Sparrow’s is a company that manufactures lock picks. I am so confused.
“Those aren’t just any cufflinks,” she says as she quickly locks a handcuff onto my wrist. What the hell.
“Butterfly…” I say in a warning tone.
“Oh, cool it, Grey. I only did one wrist. Use the cuff link.” Use the cuff link? What the hell does she expect me to do with this?
“Okay… and just how do you expect me to do that?” I ask.
“You’re a smart man. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She folds her arms and smiles at me. I look at the handcuffs—nothing special, plain ordinary cuffs. I try to see if they are quick release—nope, just ordinary cuffs. I sigh heavily, a little aggravated. Then she snickers at me. Oh, I’m going to make you pay for that, I think to myself. I then look at the cufflinks. Sparrow’s word, Sparrow’s logo—nothing spec… wait a minute. I take a closer look at the swiveling cuff link back.
“Get the fuck outta here!” How did she ever find these? How very clever! I straighten the swivel back and there is an opening at one end. I fit it into the handcuff and turn and the cuff releases. I laugh heartily. She bought me a pair of cufflinks that are actually the keys to handcuffs!
“How did you ever find these? These are outstanding!” I say.
“I thought you might like them. You are the man who has absolutely everything,” she says.
“These are fantastic, thank you!” I say, kissing her gently on the lips. “They have such carnal implications. I can wear them to work and no one will know why I’m smiling.”
“That is so Christian Grey,” she says, sweetly. “Come on, it’s time for ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.'”
Butterfly and I watch Christmas movies until the well into the night, then decide to cuddle for a while by the fire. She selects a station that plays Christmas carols and snuggles into my arms while we talk about our plans for tomorrow. We’ll sleep in and eat brunch at home then go to my parents’ for dinner—open gifts, then come back home—simple enough. The great room is nice and toasty now and I shed my sweater, still wearing my T-shirt and jeans.
“Stay right here, Baby. I want to get out of this sweater, too. The fire is fantastic and I want to enjoy it. I’ll be right back.” She pecks me gently on the lips and heads off towards our bedroom. I can’t believe what a lucky fuck I am. I mean granted, I’m a nice-looking guy and I would never expect to be with an unattractive woman, but Anastasia—she’s the whole package! She gorgeous and smart, considerate and giving and so kind, and she loves me. She’s not with me for my money or my station. She actually loves me. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank fuck for whatever it was.
The songs change and I hear a cute little instrumental version of a Christmas song that I know well, but I just can’t place it. I enjoy the tune and wait for the next song, and then the song starts to play again—except this is a slower, more sultry version of the song. Just as I realize what the song is, I hear a beautiful, melodic voice come from behind me…
“Santa Baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me,
Been an awful good girl, Santa baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight.”
I turn around to see what’s going on and oh. My. God. Butterfly’s beautiful voice is singing “Santa Baby” as she saunters over to the sofa where I’m sitting wearing a full length Santa coat, a Santa hat, and a black Santa belt. The “coat” is only held together by the belt, so as she walks, I not only get a showing of beautiful legs that go on forever, but I also see the unique red boots that are more like platform stiletto shoes and red floral stockings that come up to her knee…
… and Greystone is kicking my ass, again. Will you behave, you fucker? I’m seeing this for the first time, too!
“Santa baby, a ’54 convertible too, light blue;
I’ll wait up for you, dear; Santa baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight.”
She has made her way around to the front of me and she stands there with her legs parted, the fire cracking behind her. I want to jump her bones so badly, but I don’t want to miss the show.
“Think of all the fun I’ve missed;
Think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed;
Next year I could be just as good… If you check off my Christmas list…”
All the fellas? No fellas, damn it! Mine!
I slip out of my mini temper tantrum to see her slipping out of her black Santa belt. I am speechless as I watch the full-length red coat with fur trim slip to the floor. Underneath, she is wearing a strapless “Santa” velour dress trimmed top and bottom in white fur with a mock belt around the waist. She turns around to show me that the dress laces up in the back like a corset. It’s so short that I can see a hint of her luscious ass underneath. Just as she tells Santa Baby how much of an angel she’s been, she bends over to give me a peek of sexy red underwear and a very tempting gap between her legs. I could have withstood it, but she wiggled that lethal thing in my face.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe before I know the words escaped me. I reach for her and she jumps away from my grasp, never missing a beat of her song. She turns around and wiggles a finger at me, confirming what I already knew. This was her show, and I have to sit and observe…
… and Greystone is pissed again. Oh, please, get over it. You’re not the only one suffering here!
Knowing that her instructions are clear, she sashays over to me—her hips moving in absolutely illegal ways—and pulls my T-shirt out of my jeans. As she asks Santa Baby for the deed to a platinum mine, my T-shirt goes over my head and behind the sofa somewhere. This is so sexy that I am almost panting.
A platinum mine? Sure, I’ll find you one.
She plants my hands firmly on the sofa cushion on either side of me then, walks away and wiggles that cute little ass some more. What she does next almost makes me come on myself. She bends down again—just out of my reach—and runs her hands slowly up her feet, up the calves of these sexy ass stocking boots that she’s wearing, up the backs of her thighs, up her butt lifting that sexy little barely legal dress so that I get a full view of her pretty, plump cheeks in these hot ass panties that she’s wearing. As she returns to a standing position with her back still to me, she pulls the strings on her corset to free herself from her dress. I actually have to rub Greystone to give him some relief—but I don’t let her see me do it.
When she turns around to face me, my hands are back at my sides, lying flat on the sofa cushions. She does another little wiggle as she walks towards me talking about Santa’s checks and duplexes and I want to launch myself at her. Showing me just how well this was planned out, she puts her fingers under the top of the dress and effortlessly slides it down her body, slowly torturing my the entire journey as I watch the flimsy material caress her body before falling to the floor at her feet.
She stands before me wearing a strapless bra that matches these insanely sexy panties that she’s been taunting me with all night, those hot sexy boots… and a Santa hat. She’s still wearing the Santa hat. She drops to her knees in front of me talking about Santa Baby’s Tiffany decorations as she slowly unbuckles my belt and unzips my pants.
Oh hell! This is getting unbearable!
“Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing… A ring…” Oh anything you want, Baby, anything you want!
“I don’t mean on the phone; Santa baby, So hurry down the chimney tonight…” With those words, I am freed from my pants and boxers and she parts my legs and crawls in between them.
“Hurry down the chimney tonight…” She pulls my hips forward.
Playroom Playlist (part of it anyway):
Janet Jackson—Would You Mind
Janet Jackson—Someday Is Tonight
Janet Jackson—Funny How Time Flies
Janet Jackson—Rope Burn
Janet Jackson and Herb Alpert—Making Love In The Rain
There is only ONE Santa Baby—the ORIGINAL! Eartha Kitt—Santa Baby. Yes, she was the original. And surprise—Marilyn Monroe never sang “Santa Baby.” The ones on YouTube that boast Marilyn Monroe are Eartha Kitt. Sorry, Marilyn fans…
Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc can be found at http://www.pinterest.com/ladeeceo/mending-dr-steele/
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Love and Handcuffs!