Paging Dr. Steele: Chapter 37: Are You Game?

This is a work or 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 37—Are You Game?


I missed all of my appointments last Tuesday, so I’m leaving before Christian wakes up so that I can get a jump on them today, but I have a little surprise in mind for him. I don’t know how comfortable he’ ll be with the concept, but I read a little bit about it before we had our “falling out” and I had planned on trying it out with him this past weekend. Of course, that little thing called a hospital stay changed those plans… and of course, that visit from Mother Nature didn’t have me feeling too sexy either. However, after last night, I feel like a sex goddess ready to explode. Too bad he’s about to go out of town for three days. Oh well, I guess we’ll have to make this day one he shall not soon forget.

I leave a manilla envelope with a certain object and instructions on the chair in his study, say goodbye to Gail and head down to the parking structure, texting Chuck to meet me down there. When the elevator doors open, Chuck’s mouth falls agape.

“Uh… Ana?” he says when he sees my attire. I have never followed the rules of “Before Five/After Five” attire, but today, I’m breaking them all.

“Chuck?” I say, in the same flat questioning tone.

“Has the Boss seen you today?” he asks cautiously.

“No, but he will,” I respond.

“He’s going to have my ass for this,” Chuck says, dismally.

“No, he won’t,” I say, but he very well may have mine. “I’ll ride with you today.”

“Must you?” he laments, as I get into the passenger seat of the Audi fleet car assigned to him. This outfit is really making him uncomfortable—which means I picked the right ensemble. I’m wearing a red Patty Woman off-the-shoulder long sleeved fitted dress with red cage strappy peep-toe platform stilettos. The sexy silicone backless, strapless invisible bra and red thong make me look like I’m not wearing underwear at all.

“Chuck, I’m sorry if I’m making you feel uncomfortable, but I have specific plans for today. Would you rather I drive myself to work?” He sighs.

“No, I’ll drive you, but how are your patients going to concentrate with you dressed like that?” he asks as he starts the car.

“Oh, they’ve seen worse,” I say with a snicker. He looks at me then shakes his head.

“I don’t even want to know.” He pulls out of Escala’s parking structure and heads toward downtown.

“Hot-chi-wah-wah! What’s this all about, Boss!?” Marilyn says when I get to the office.

“I have plans for Mr. Grey,” I say, picking up the mail from her desk. “Anything important?”

“Not at all. What’s up with these plans? Don’t leave me hanging!” she squeals.

“I could tell you, but I think it would burn your young innocent ears.” I smile devilishly as I go into my office.


Fuck, my thigh hurts like hell this morning. I smile, remembering the cause for the sharp shooting pain there. I reach over for my Butterfly and realize that the bed is empty. What the hell? I never sleep longer than she does. I sit up and examine the room. She has long since left, it appears. Damn! So much for a morning replay of last night. I’m going to have to make today special for her somehow since I have to leave for Green Valley first thing in the morning. Part of me really wants to tell her what is going on, but the biggest part wants to have some answers before I open that painful conversation with her.

I throw my legs out over the edge of the bed, stand and stretch. She didn’t leave me a note or anything? I feel a little rejected. I look at my watch on the nightstand… 8:12am. Nothing on my agenda today until 10:00 then maybe I can take Butterfly to lunch.

Remember how well that went the last time you tried to do that? Well, yes, but I was a stupid idiot then and now I know better. When I stand to my feet, I see a suit in front of me on the valet near the closet. I never use that thing, so I know that I didn’t put that there. I walk over to the valet and examine the black Gorgio Armani suit there with the crisp white dress shirt. On the shoe display of the stand are a pair of black Gorgio Armani calfskin leather Balmoral dress shoes and nylon dress socks.

What in the hell? I must have slept like a damn log… and who has decided how I needed to be suited today? There is a manila envelope atop the valet with my name craftily scribbled across it. I open the envelope and read the note inside.

Good Morning Mr. Grey,

I hope you slept well last night. I know I did. I can only assume by your current content expression that you must be dreaming of me and our incredible night of passion. Alas, the day has dawned and it is back to business. This is what you will be required to wear today. Prepare yourself with your Armani shampoo, body wash, and cologne before donning this magnificent creation. Do not add anything or subtract anything from this ensemble. Once you have adorned yourself, proceed to your study for further instructions.

Awaiting your compliance,
AS x

Prepare myself? She sounds like she’s stuffing a turkey! What in the world—she must have had Valium in her ass because she is showered, dressed, and gone, laid out my clothes and shoes, and apparently had time to watch me sleep and write a note and I didn’t hear a thing! Although, I must admit… there’s something meticulous and familiar about this process:

She has chosen my clothes, down to my nylon socks…
I’ve been instructed not to alter the ensemble…
I’ve been told to “prepare” myself with specific grooming products…
Her tone is formal. Except for the “kiss” in her signature, there’s nothing particularly playful about this letter…

It finally dawns on me when I see the two key components of this letter—the opening and the closing:

Good Morning Mr. Grey…
Awaiting your compliance…

She’s in Domme mode! Fuck!

Okay… if I remember nothing else as a submissive, I remember to follow instructions. I proceed to the en suite where I find a T-shirt and a pair of black Hugo Boss boxer briefs neatly folded on the counter, my Armani grooming supplies lined up behind them. I swallow, noting her care and attention to detail and wondering exactly what this day will encompass. I waste no time in thoroughly showering and brushing my teeth. She didn’t tell me to shave, so I won’t. I often leave a little stubble on some days and she has not instructed me to remove it.

I dress myself in the suit and shirt that she has left for me and I notice that she has failed to include a tie or cufflinks. I never wear a dress shirt without a tie—a linen shirt, maybe, but never a dress shirt—and I can’t run around with my cuffs flapping all day! I double check the valet and the floor around it to make sure I didn’t drop them. I’m almost tempted to pick a tie and cufflinks and stash them in my pocket, but a submissive is required to obey. This is not my time to make decisions; she must make the decisions. I pick up my blackberry and proceed to my study as instructed.

… And this is why a submissive must remember to obey without question.

In the chair in my study, I find my scarlet red silk Armani tie, pocket square, and cuff link set atop another manila envelope. We definitely have a theme here—this is an Armani day for me. I can’t say that I mind. The moment that I pick up the envelope, I can tell that it contains more than just a note. I remove it’s contents and place them on the desk. I’m now certain that this is going to be quite a memorable day.

You follow directions well, Mr. Grey. I’m assuming that you’re wearing the exquisite Armani suit and shoes that I have chosen for you and that you are now smelling incredibly edible after utilizing the grooming products as I have instructed. I can tell you that I was incredibly hot this morning watching you sleep and imagining you preparing yourself for this day, but I managed to control myself as I have better things in mind for you.

Put it on… slowly. Imagine my hands are fastening it against you, caressing your skin as I gently tighten it, kissing your neck and your back and caressing your chest as I mark you as MINE. You will wear it all day under your clothes. Text me when you have completed this task.

Awaiting your compliance,
AS x

The other item in the envelope is the thin black collar with the red hearts—one of the collars that she chose for me on our shopping spree. Now, I know why she separated the tie from the rest of the clothes. I have to put the collar under my shirt, then cover it with my shirt collar and the Armani tie. I trace the collar with my fingers. There is a small jolt in my chest… hesitation. The last time I was collared, the Pedophile collared me. It wasn’t a tender moment for us, not that there were ever any tender moments for us. I was reluctant to explore this avenue again, but Butterfly was curious, so I agreed to help facilitate her journey. The problem is that I thought she would be with me when I wore a collar again for the first time. A submissive hardly ever attaches a collar himself.

I do as I’m told. I open the collar and slowly put it around my neck. I close my eyes and imagine that my Butterfly is buckling the collar behind me… touching my skin and kissing my shoulders. I finger the collar around my large neck and it almost seems to disappear. I touch it and fondle the silver leash loop in front of it and remember what it means. I hear her voice in my ear…

You are mine.

I open my eyes, still fondling the collar. It suddenly feels like a valuable and priceless piece of jewelry… the most valuable thing I’ve ever worn in my life. I caress the soft leather and the leash loop repeatedly with my fingertips, pressing it against my neck. I undo the buckle and tighten the collar one more loop. I want to feel the leather against my skin, to know that it’s there. I suddenly realize why she had me perform this little collaring ceremony on my own. She could very easily take me—I would not resist. In fact, she knows I would welcome it.

She wants me to give myself to her.

When the Pedophile collared me, I was taken—whether I wanted it or not. I was crushed and subdued and I had no choice in the matter. This time, I make the decision to submit. I make the choice. I can very easily have chosen to say “no,” to not wear the collar. No doubt she knew that this would be difficult to do on my own, but she had to know how I would feel once the collar was attached per her instructions… something that I didn’t expect to feel.

Submission, compliance, obedience, yes… even reverence.

Desire, yearning, and need to be possessed by someone… no, I hadn’t expected this. Moreover, I certainly hadn’t expected to feel…


The teacher is becoming the student.

I reluctantly tear my hands away from the better-than-gold-platinum-diamond-encrusted treasure around my neck and proceed to button my shirt. I tie the Armani firmly around my neck and touch my tie, knowing that my collar—her collar—is underneath. I put on my cufflinks and insert the pocket square into my chest pocket… and although today, I am the sub, I feel taller. I open my blackberry and send a text to Butterfly.

**I’m dressed as you instructed. **

I don’t move from my spot until I receive a response.

**Very good, Mr. Grey, but you have your first infraction. I’m sure you know what it is. Don’t let it happen again. **

Oh shit, what did I do? I quickly run through the letter and the text to figure out what I did wrong. I donned the clothes and collar like my Mistress instructed. I texted my Mistress to tell her that I had obeyed her instruction… what did I do…?

Fuck! Rule number fucking one, Grey!

**Please forgive me, Mistress. **

Another moment later, she responds:

**Today, we are going to try a form of TPE. Be assured that I understand that I cannot control every aspect of your day or you will be unable to effectively run your company and do your job. However, I will be in control of certain aspects of your day today. I’m aware of your schedule. You do not need to know how I acquired this information. I expect you to answer my texts without delay and to follow my instructions without question or hesitation even if I’m not physically in your presence. You will respond to me appropriately for the entire day until I inform you that we have completed TPE. Are you game? **

Fuck me… TPE. Holy cow…

Shit, she’s rubbing off on me!

Once again, I haven’t subbed in total power exchange since the Pedophile. It takes a hell of a lot of trust to let someone completely control everything that you do—which is why she got me dressed this morning and didn’t tell me that we were doing TPE until after I had collared myself.

**Yes Mistress. **

To say that I’m nervous as fuck about this is the understatement of the century. In fact, I’m scared shitless! But this is my Butterfly—my Delicate Domme and my Mistress—and I know she wouldn’t hurt me or take advantage of me. I do wonder what she has decided to do today. I’m almost gagging to see what this day will hold and how it will end… what delicious memories I will have to take with me into the bowels of hell tomorrow.

**Very good. Go eat your breakfast, now. I know that you have a 10:00 and if you don’t hurry, you will be late. **

**Yes, Mistress. **


I repeatedly and reflexively touch my collar and tie several times throughout the course of the day. I know that my Mistress knew I would be doing this all day. She wants me to know that even when she’s not there, she is there. I’m sitting in the department heads meeting this morning fidgeting like a nervous teenager. More than one of these suits has noticed that although I’m a little uneasy, this is not the usual bored tension that I bring into these meetings. I try not to jump out of my skin when my blackberry buzzes.

Fuck, Grey, get a fucking grip!

I remove my blackberry from my pocket and read the text from my Mistress:

**Rub your thigh where I scratched you last night. Remember me bouncing on your dick and pulling your hair while we were both screaming in ecstasy. **

Oh, heaven help me. I rub the scratches on my thigh and think about the burning pleasure we experienced last night. It was our first anal intercourse together and it was fucking amazing. I came almost immediately upon entering her luscious ass and she was so tight, that it only took moments for me to be hard again and fuck that gorgeous derriere to two more mind-blowing orgasms for her and one earth-shattering release for me. I moan involuntarily as the pain in my leg sends a signal to my brain and a shock directly to my cock as a reminder of last night’s escapades.

“Mr. Grey?” Andrea’s voice reminds me that I’m still in this fucking meeting. Thank God it’s nearly over.

“I hurt my leg last night. The pain is distracting. Is there anything very important that we need to address?” I say. It’s not a lie.

“Um, I think we’ve covered everything,” Ros interjects. She’s my second in command and if she says everything is covered, it’s covered. “Go take care of your leg, Christian. We’ll wrap things up here.”

“Thank you, Ros. Gentlemen,” I say curtly before escaping the conference room to the privacy of my office. I have to respond soon or my Mistress will think I’ve hesitated.

**Thank you, Mistress! **

I fall into my chair and I have to take a few deep breaths. I think not knowing what comes next is what is making the anticipation so agonizing. I’m the king of delayed gratification, but I have rarely been on the receiving end of that particular concept.

**Did you enjoy that memory, Mr. Grey? **

**Yes, Mistress. Very much. **

**Did you pleasure yourself, Mr. Grey? **

Oh, hell, no. Do I look crazy?

**No, Mistress. **

**Good. You are not to touch yourself or pleasure yourself in any way without permission. Your release will come from me. Is that understood? **

Of course it is, but I dare not question my Mistress’ tactics.

**Yes, Mistress. Completely understood. **

**Good. Where are you now? **

**I’m in my office, Mistress. **

**Excellent. Sit in your chair and open your legs. Grab that big beautiful cock of yours and rub it through your pants. Rub it hard five times. That’s my hand clenching you and rubbing you, hard. My hand is cupping your dick HARD. Rub that dick for me. Thrust your hips into my hand and feel me grabbing and rubbing that luscious hard cock. Five times, Mr. Grey. Five hard, deep strokes. I will contact you again in an hour. **

Oh fucking shit, she’s good.

**Yes Mistress. **

I close my eyes and see my Mistress standing in front of me and grabbing my member in her hands. Greystone starts to twitch before I even get my hand down to him. I can feel it pressing hard against my boxers and I take it in my hands. I’m so hard that the moment I touch it, it almost feels like I’m going to come.


I thrust my hips into my hand, rubbing my cock strong and deep just like my Mistress instructed me. I almost cry out from the sudden jolt of pleasure.


I stroke again, pushing my palm into my erection and matching the stroke with my hips—deep and long.


Fuck, this is torture… exquisite fucking torture. I repeat the process, this time gyrating my hips against my hand like I would if my Mistress were doing this.

“Fuck!” Three.

Almost as if she has taken possession of my hand, it grips my rod tightly through my pants, stroking downwards, then cupping my balls in a massage and feverishly gripping on the upstroke.

“Ah!” I have to muffle that cry a bit. That’s four. I can do one more and not come. I can do one more…

Once more, I rub my now pulsating cock, imagining my Mistress and her talented hands and fingers gripping my Johnson as I stoke against her hands. That almost did it. My injured leg is now shaking from the attempt to suppress an impending orgasm.

“Five! Five! Fuck! Fuck!” This woman is turning me the fuck out and she’s not even here! This is definitely a first for me. I’m clutching the arms of my chair and gasping for breath as the throbbing in my dick slowly subsides. Shit, I need a drink! If I smoked, I’d need a cigarette right now!

I take a few sips of bourbon, then settle down at my desk with some spreadsheets. I have to get some kind of work done before this woman completely kills me. If she’s doing this to me and she’s not even present, I’m truly afraid of what’s going to happen when we get together! I’ve just gotten myself calmed to a certain degree when my phone buzzes again. My dick twitches immediately and my hands are shaking as I attempt to retrieve my blackberry.

**How do you feel, Mr. Grey? **

**Fine, Mistress. **

**How does your leg feel? **

**Fine, Mistress. **

**Good. Now I want you to sit back in your chair, take a few deep breaths and relax. Put your hands on your armrest and don’t move them until I tell you to. **

Oh, this is an easy one. Even if she makes me sit here all afternoon, I think I can do that just to calm my damn nerves.

**Yes, Mistress. **

I put my blackberry on the desk and follow my Mistress’ instruction. I take deep, cleansing breaths and relax. I find that it’s easier for me to relax since I met her. I was always wound so tight and needed some sort of outside stimuli to unwind—hence the need for the weekend subs. She actually soothes me when I’m angry or anxious. I close my eyes and sink back into my chair. I have settled into a comfortable silence for several minutes when my meditation is broken by someone entering my office uninvited. I open my eyes, ready to tear out the asshole of the unfortunate idiot who dares to disturb me and I nearly have a stroke.

Oh. My. Hell.

My Mistress locks my office door and stands there in the most delectable red dress I’ve ever seen—simple, but it looks like a second skin on her. She’s strutting in a pair of sky high red stilettos that I swear are only suitable to be wrapped around my ears. Her hair is pulled back tightly around her head into a frighteningly efficient bun, but her make-up and jewelry almost sends me into convulsions. Her eyes are dark—black and dark gray shadows and eyeliners that make her blue eyes look almost clear. She’s wearing crimson red lipstick and she has adorned the Glamorous pearl choker with the matching earrings that I picked for her.

She’s collared, too… and looking like the fuckable Dr. Steele that I saw that first day at the community center. She’d turn a straight woman gay in that damn dress!

Greystone is now beating a tattoo to get out of my pants as my Mistress stands at the door observing me and biting her lip. Has she been dressed like this all day!? Has the world been able to ogle my beautiful Butterf… Mistress looking this irresistible for the last five or more hours? My heart is almost beating out of my damn chest. She is my Mistress. I dare not question her attire at this time. She is my Mistress. She is my Mistress…

“Something wrong, Mr. Grey?” and there’s that voice. The voice of my Mistress. Um… I had a thought a minute ago…

“No, Mistress,” I respond, my throat is a little scratchy. I swallow and clear my throat as she slowly strides over to me. I cling to the arms of my chair like my life depends on it.

“You’ve had some infractions that require restitution, Mr. Grey,” my Mistress says as she comes around the desk and stands in front of me. I can smell her—her perfume mixed with lemongrass and the distinctive smell of Butterfly. I watched her as she walked around my desk, but now obediently stare at these remarkable red shoes that I hope will one day find their way on my shoulders as my erection is buried deeply and senselessly in the tunnels of passion in the valley of my Mistress.

She runs her fingers through my hair and my breath quickens immediately. I adore her touch on me, and right now, I’m at my most vulnerable. I’m at my Mistress’ mercy. I gasp as she clutches a handful of my hair and snatches my head back, forcing me to look at her. Oh, fuck, my pants are getting tighter and tighter and my dick is going to make me pay for this denial.

“You harmed yourself last week for five days, Mr. Grey.” Ah, now the preoccupation with the number five comes to light. “You deprived your body of food, water, and rest for five days and could have caused yourself irreparable damage. Do you understand that you can never do that again, Mr. Grey?” she says firmly.

“Yes, Mistress. I understand,” I reply, obediently.

“Good. We will be sure that you don’t forget it. For these five infractions, I plan to unleash myself on you, Mr. Grey. I will not be delicate. I will not be merciful. I will not be gentle. I will bring you to the end of your wits. During this time, I will find my pleasure and my release as often as I like and I will bring you deliciously and temptingly close to yours five times before you are allowed to come even once. Do you understand?”

My eyes almost pop out of my head at this announcement, but her face remains firm and impassive as she grasps my hair and awaits my response. Does that near explosion an hour ago count as one of the five? Damn! She snatches my head back hard, pulling my hair viciously.

“You’re hesitating, Mr. Grey,” she growls and I cry out in surprise and pain. Oh, fuck me, my dick is about to jump out of my pants and fuck you all by itself, Mistress.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. Yes. Yes, Mistress, I understand.” My breath is coming in short. I remember this arousal from the first time I was a submissive, only now, it’s being replaced with a deep desire for the woman who has promised to punish me. I will take whatever my Mistress will give and erase the remnants of the cruel woman who stole my life and my teenage years.

What do you wish of me, Mistress?

She releases my hair roughly and my head bobbles uselessly before I drop my eyes back to her feet. Without warning, she reaches down and grabs my erection, hard.

AH!” I gasp, still clinging on to the arms of the chair.

“Have you had lunch yet, Mr Grey?” she asks as she strokes my dick the same way I imagined she would an hour ago.

“Not yet, Mistress. I was about to order something when Mistress graced me with her presence,” I choke out around the pleasure she is giving me.

“Good. Don’t forget to do that,” she says. She unzips my pants and my erection springs free. Oh, good God, it feels so good to be free! The veins are bulging and pulsating viciously as my one-eyed snake stares back at me—ferociously threatening revenge for whatever I have done to release the sexual prowess and fury of this Vixen upon us.

“Mmmm,” she says, standing above me. “Now that’s a beautiful sight.” I continue to stare at my erection, getting some relief from being freed from my boxers. “Look at me,” she commands. I raise my eyes slowly to her face and she’s biting her lip, standing mere inches from me and I can’t touch her. “Do you like what you see, Mr. Grey?” she taunts.

“Yes, Mistress, very much,” I reply, the relief in my loins short-lived as Greystone is begging for permission to engage the Mistress. She slides her dress up her thighs until it’s almost to her hips giving me the slightest peek of a small red triangle of her underwear.

“How about now?” she teases as she strokes her panties standing right in front of me.

“Oh yes, Mistress, I like that,” I respond reverently. The smell of her arousal is attacking my nostrils and impairing my senses. All I can think of is her precious, sweet pussy and all the things that I want to do to it. I’m losing this battle quickly. Thank God she’s my Mistress and no one else’s… ever.

“Ah…” she mewls softly as she pleasures herself in front of me. Fuck my life, I can barely stand this. I watch mesmerized as she climbs atop my desk and spreads her legs, planting her feet in my chair on either side of my thighs. The smell from her sex threatens to possess me and make me forget that I’m her sub. She knows this… and if I disobey, she will punish me further. Oh, cruel, sweet Mistress…

“You will need a safe word, Mr. Grey.” What? We’re playing? Here? Oh, boy. I’ve never played in my office before. I don’t know how this is going to work out… “You will need more later, but for right now, you will only need one.” She tries to control her voice as she becomes more and more aroused, and it’s driving me fucking crazy. “You are going to experience some of the deepest pleasure that I can release upon you…” oh, fuck, “… but you cannot come. If you do, I will discipline you for your weakness and disobedience,” and I believe her. “If you feel that you are at your highest threshold—that one more slight movement will cause you to explode—you may use this safe word.”

Oh my God, what has she been reading? This is the ultimate in orgasm denial. I’m almost afraid of where she will take me with this, but Christian Grey never turns his back on a challenge. Like I said, all of my ultimate sexual experiences have been with that wretched woman. I would like nothing more than to replace those memories with intense torturous moments of stamina and passion with my Mistress. Bring it on!

“And don’t try to fake to gain mercy or lenience because I will know and I will discipline you for that as well.” Not a chance, Mistress. I welcome this experience.

“Yes, Mistress. I understand,” I respond.

“Choose your sexual safe word, Mr. Grey.”

“Wings, Mistress,” because I love to glide and right now, I feel like I’m flying.

“Wings,” she repeats. She’s good. She’s been studying. She knows to repeat the safe word.

“Yes, Mistress. Wings.”

“Very good,” she replies as she drops her head back and massages her kitten through her panties for me. My mouth begins to water as I watch the useless silk thong become wet under her ministrations. “Ah…” she moans again as I inhale her fragrance deeply, taking whatever pleasure I can from the experience as I’m not allowed to touch her or myself. Her breath catches as she abruptly stops touching herself but proceeds to slide to the edge of my desk, causing her dress to ride up to her hips. She pulls her thong to the side revealing her hot, pink, dripping fruit underneath.

“I want to come. Kiss me, Mr. Grey. Pleasure me to my release, but you can only touch me with your mouth and that very hot tongue. Do not move your hands.” Oh, thank you, Mistress!

I scoot my chair all the way up to the desk and dive in like the starving man that I am. My Mistress cries out in passion and I’m very pleased to please her. Please, Mistress, do it again. I lap her juices greedily, tasting and swallowing every drop so that I can taste her when she is gone for as long as possible. Fuck lunch—I got what I need right here. She cries out again and I’m spurred to love her deeper, sweeter, harder. Her feet move to the back of my chair where my head would be and she grabs my hair once again, pressing my mouth deeper into her sex and grinding roughly against my tongue. I moan as fight to keep my hands planted on the armrest and not touch her beautiful, soft, milky skin.

“Oh yes!” she cries as I feel her clit throb against my tongue and her juices spring forth into my mouth. Oh, baby! Again, my dick is beating mercilessly against my stomach, cursing me with every thump. My Mistress pumps out her release, then commands me, “Stop!” I pull my head back and tear myself from my feast, watching my sated Mistress descend from her orgasmic high leaning back on my desk. I sit back in my chair and attempt to control my breathing and my thoughts at the sight before me is enough in and of itself to send me on a magic carpet ride. Before I have a chance to gather myself, she drops her legs over my arms effectively pinning them to the armrests and slides quickly, smoothly, and athletically onto my dick.

I hiss long and loud, pushing myself back against the chair. The feeling is hot, searing… my dick has a mind of its own right now and is trying to crawl up into her heavenly space and stay nestled there. He’s mad at me… mad for putting him through the torture that I have all day after last night’s romp in Wonderland. Scream, Bitch, scream, he wills me as her intimate tightness squeezes him without remorse. Oh, shit, fuck, and hell, I’m going to come. No! Count backwards from 100 and relax. You will still get the pleasure, but you can control the orgasm.




My breathing starts to calm a bit, but my dick is still hard. I don’t move my hips because she didn’t say that I could, so I must sit here and absorb the pleasure.




I groan as I feel my release hovering on the horizon. She raises and drops her hips masterfully on mine. Oh, fuck, Ana! I can’t call her name. I want to… but I can’t. Fuck, Ana!




She starts to whimper as she rides and I know her release will come soon. You can hold out, Grey. I know she’s hot, and delicious, and beautiful… but you can do it. She loosens my tie and undoes the first two buttons of my shirt. Her collar stares back at her. She touches it gently with her fingertips, gently sliding along the leather as she continues to ride me. She is revering it much like I did this morning. Both of her hands caress my neck and I stop counting. Shit, I don’t think I’ll make it much longer.

She kisses my neck above and below the collar, massaging it gently with her lips and tongue. I close my eyes and bask in the pleasure of being possessed by this beautiful, extraordinary creature. My breathing quickens again as that elusive orgasm threatens to rear its ugly head. Not yet, please, not yet…

She puts her mouth over mine—not kissing me, just brushing her lips with mine, breathing my air and sharing hers with me. I can feel her start to quiver and I have to control my hormones as that is usually my cue that we are about to release together. The lines are getting blurred between my Butterfly and my Mistress as I continue to clutch the armrests of my office chair and hold my hips still. Oh hell, it’s coming… it’s fucking coming…




At that moment, my Butterfly—or my Mistress, one of them—grabs the leash loop of the collar and snatches me to her by my neck.

“Mine!” she growls into my open mouth.

I release a strangled moan as her word goes through me and strokes the delicate pins that connect my sanity to my emotion and reason. Again, I’m full of love and desire and some unknown emotion for my Mistress…



She looks into my eyes and releases fantastically, grinding and pulsating relentlessly on my dick.

Oh, fuck, Grey, hold on! 99… 84… 12… 51… 18…

Just as I’m about to safe word, she rises up from me and takes three deep breaths. Then she drops to her knees between my legs and blows gently on the head of my dick.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Look, Mistress, I’m trying to abide by the rules, but this is so not fair! She gently takes the head between her lips and slowly pulls the shaft into her mouth.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

“Mmmmm… I taste you… and me… it’s so hot,” she says, before she pulls me into her mouth again.

“Ah!” I whine high and don’t recognize my own voice. It’s been a hell of a day and even more of a hell of a session. My body is begging for release and my mind is fighting against it. Quite frankly, Greystone and the Twins are about to win this battle. This becomes a definite forfeit when her hands creep up my chest under my open jacket, her nails digging into the tender flesh there as her mouth repeatedly drops down on my erection—hard! My heavy breaths are matching her strokes and now I must succumb.

“Wings!” gasp, “Wings!” gasp, “Wings!” gasp, “Wings!” I swear it’s too late and I’m about to explode in her mouth when she grabs the base of my dick and releases me with a loud, wet pop of her lips. I start to ejaculate just a little, but thankfully, it stops before my orgasm gets a chance to take over. Oh, boy, I’m going to have to go into the recesses of my mind and pull out the concentration that I exercised during stamina training all those years ago, because this Mistress is going to put me through my paces!

My hands actually hurt now. I have been holding on to these armrests like the jaws of life for I don’t know how long and the more intense the sensation to Greystone, the harder I held. Mistress holds my dick for a moment to make sure that I won’t come while I cough air back into my collapsing lungs. She licks the small amount of come off my dick and I moaned mournfully. Please leave him alone, Mistress, or I. Am. Going. To. Come.

“That’s all the cleaning he’ll get. Don’t touch him anymore,” she commands.

“Yes, Mistress,” I choke. She stands and goes to the bathroom off of my office. Greystone is glaring at me angrily, vowing to me that my next orgasm will be one to leave me unconscious. I try to reason with him that it’s not my fault, but he just stands there, unmoved, pissed off and staring at me. What can I say?

My Mistress returns from the bathroom and stands next to me. “You may move your hands now, Mr. Grey,” she states. I release the armrests and flex my hands several times to get the circulation going in my fingers. My dick is still standing at attention and I can’t get it back into my pants. She lifts my chin and kisses me gently twice on the lips.

“I’ll make sure that you are not disturbed until you are ready, and I will get you some lunch,” she says.

“Yes, Mistress,” I say softly, still trying to compose myself.

“I will see you later, Mr. Grey.”

“Yes, Mistress.” And she strolls—fresh-faced, hot, and beautiful—out of my office. I probably look like I was run over by a fucking semi. Her delectable ass looks damn near naked in that dress and I can’t believe she’s been working all day in that outfit… and now she’s on her way back to work and her patients get to see her walking around looking like sex on a stick! Thank God Ros didn’t see her today—she might have tried to transform my Mistress! She might have left her wife for my Butterfly! The thought has me sitting here with clenched fists, frustrated with my Mistress but at the same time, impressed with her for leaving me drenched in her smell and wanton vicious desire and need…

This is fucking agony! Then again, that’s what punishment is supposed to be, isn’t it?

I so need a few moments to myself. I hear her tell Andrea to order me some lunch and make sure that I’m not disturbed. Thank God for that! There’s no way to explain this position and it’s going to take me a while to get rid of it. I can’t even attempt to put my dick back in my pants yet, much less my boxer briefs. I can’t even splash cold water on it because I know that she left her lipstick rings on purpose. So I just sit here, waiting for a natural deflation and thinking about her words to me when she walked into my office.

I plan to unleash myself on you, Mr. Grey. I will not be delicate. I will not be merciful. I will not be gentle. I will bring you to the end of your wits.”

No fucking kidding!

My sexual frustration is so high, I begin to bite random people’s head’s off because I’ve been walking around with a perpetual woody for the last three hours of the workday and I can’t do anything about it. Greystone has set his mind on getting back at me for denying him release… like it was my idea… and has decided to pay attention to everything that everyone had to say for the rest of the day—the key word here being attention. I spend the rest of the afternoon irritated and hiding in my office.

She tortures me further by not contacting me anymore that afternoon until after I arrive back at Escala, at which time she sends me a sexy ass voice memo telling me how she can still feel my dick in her mouth and taste my cum. Greystone is still standing at full mast, so he just throbs and kicks me in my balls to remind me that he’s pissed.

Fuck! I want my Mistress!

Her voice memo continues with instructions not to eat until she gets home and to change into something more comfortable. What the hell can I put on that’s more comfortable? I sure as hell can’t wear any jeans—I’ve got this massive boner that I can’t put into any kind of restraining clothing. I can’t wear sweats because, well, the whole tent effect. If I’m still wearing my Armani when I get home, my Mistress will think I disobeyed her.

This is fucking agony… sweet agony…


I had a little more fun this day than I should have, I’m sure. I had never dominated Christian in this way before, but I just knew that I could do it—assuming he agreed to TPE. I knew half the battle was won once he agreed to wear his collar to work, but I had no idea how far he would be willing to take it beyond that. The only way to find out would be to give him instructions and see if he would follow them. I knew that I had hit the mark when he responded to his first real TPE command:

**Thank you, Mistress! **

Oh, game on!

I had intended on just going to his office and making him suffer by watching me saunter around in that red number and my collar, which I only just added just before I got there. However, the whole idea of having Christian Grey—delectable, delightful, delicious, delucious, deyummy, divine Christian Grey—at my total sexual beck and call, had me hot and panting like a bear in a fur coat in the middle of the Sahara Desert at noon! Christian looks great in any suit, but when I coupled that illegally sexy black Armani with that red silk tie to match my clothes for the day—hell, I was torturing myself, let alone Christian.

On top of that, this collar has a chilling effect on me, so I don’t know what it does to him. I’ve never felt the possession that goes with a collar… until today. I felt like that was my man, my mate for life… and I was his. It was primitive, like time or space or consequence couldn’t keep up apart and… Okay, I’m starting to sound like a stalker…

But hell, that’s how it felt.

Thank God I was smart enough to bring extra panties with me or I would have been walking around in a wet, sex-funky thong for the rest of the day. If I know my man, he’s knocking down light poles with his dick right now. When he started calling out his safe word earlier, I was sure he was going to take flight. So, I decide to send him a voice memo reminding him how good he tasted. That should hold the fire until I get home.

When I walk into the apartment, Gail and Jason are whispering in the kitchen. They both freeze when they see me.

“Your Highness,” Jason greets me.

“Smart ass,” I greet back.

“So glad you two are getting along,” Gail pipes in.

“What did you do to that man?” Jason asks. I frown. “Did he see you in that?”

“Yes, why?”

“That’s what’s wrong with him! He’s been fit to be tied all afternoon!” Jason declares. I laugh.

“That’s not what’s wrong with him.” I put my purse and briefcase on the counter. “Is dinner ready yet?” I ask.

“Yes, you’re all set,” Gail responds.

“Good. I’ll take it from here. Where is he?”

“Where else? He got an email from GEH and he’s been at his desk ever since,” Jason answers.

“Okay. You guys can call it a night.” I turn to go to the study. “Oh, and, no matter what you hear, if the apartment isn’t on fire or we don’t dial 31, you might not want to come back out here tonight,” I add.

“Um, Your Highness?” I turn to Jason. “Remember that brief conversation we had about TMI?”

“Oh, please!” I wave him off. “He’s in a pissy mood and I’m dressed like this. What the hell do you think is going to happen?” Gail pushes Jason out of the kitchen.

“Come, Jason,” she says as they disappear into their apartment. I straighten my dress—and my back—and walk into his study without knocking.

“Change the shipping from Dramaco to Ocean International. Dramaco can’t guarantee the condition of the shipment and won’t insure the value of the contents. How fucking hard can this be?!” Christian barks into his blackberry looking at his laptop at a spreadsheet. He holds his finger up at me to wait a moment. I’m tempted to punish him for doing that, but he hasn’t turned around to see that it’s me standing here, yet. Day hasn’t been hard enough for you already, Grey?

“Have you seen these numbers?!” he continues berating the poor person on the other end of the phone. “We’re losing money every second that cargo sits on the dock. Get it fucking shipped!” Okay, work time is over. They’ve got their instructions. I belligerently clear my throat and Christian’s head snaps over to me like a kid that just got caught past curfew.

“Do what I said. I gotta go,” he says, monotoned, before ending the call and dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Good evening, Mr. Grey. So nice of you to make time for me,” I say, impassively.

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he answers chastised. “I didn’t know you had entered. I’ll pay more attention in the future.” Very duly chastised. Nicely done, Mr. Grey.

“Why haven’t you changed clothes, Mr. Grey?”

“Again, my apologies, Mistress. I was hoping to be finished with work before you returned.” I knew that was it. I just wanted him to tell me.

“As you have not had a chance to change, I can be assured that my dick is still marked, correct?” I command. He swallows hard.

“Yes, Mistress, it is,” he responds.

“Look at me.” He raises his beautiful gray eyes to me, completely dilated and full of lust. He’s still as hard as he was when I left him this afternoon. “Show me.”

He takes a deep breath and stands, gently opening his pants and gasping as he frees his erection. Fucking gorgeous.

“Sit.” He sits back in his office chair. “Hands on the armrest.” He takes a deep breath and obeys. He knows what’s coming. I let him watch as I remove my panties in front of him, slowly. I walk over to him and straddle him in his chair, my pussy atop his erection, but not allowing him to enter me. I know that it takes a lot for a man like Christian to surrender to anyone. Although he’s still being punished, I think it’s time for a little reward.

I undo his red silk tie and pull it gently out of the collar of his shirt. I unbutton three buttons of his shirt and reveal my collar. His breath catches as I touch it, gently stroking his neck as I caress it.

“You are beautiful, Mr. Grey,” I say, softly, and I watch his eyes change—from slate to storm as he takes a deep breath and releases it. His lids fall to half-mast and I can tell that he desperately wants to close his eyes. I take his face in my hands and gently kiss one eyelid, then the other, giving him the permission that he seeks. “Beautiful,” I repeat.

“Thank you, Mistress,” he whispers without opening his eyes. I bring his face to mine and kiss him gently on the lips—delicate and chaste, not deep. I start to move, rubbing my bare wet core against him, but still denying him entry. He moans deep in his chest.

“Hold me, Mr. Grey.”

His arms slide gently and slowly around my body, his hands splayed open on my back.

“Yes,” I breathe, “that’s good.” I continue to rub against him. He feels wonderful against me—hard and hot—but I won’t come. I won’t come again until he does, and he has four more denials before he can come. He’s breathing heavily again, this one coming upon him much faster than before. We still have time to play and if I don’t bring him down, playtime will be over far too quickly.

He moans again in my mouth, clutching my back in a strained attempt to stop my movements but not stop my movements. When I shift myself and cause him to slip inside of me, it only takes three strokes to break him.

“No… Mistress… wings… wings…” he pants, laying his head on my chest and pressing me against him. I still my movements while he breathes out his impending release. I stroke his hair as he begins to relax.

“You are very aroused, Mr. Grey,” I say seductively.

“Yes, Mistress, I’ve been thinking of you all day,” he chokes. Good answer! I rise quickly off of his erection so as not to prolong his agony. It still almost proved too much for him as he gasped in pleasure and spoke without permission.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” His eyes are screwed tightly shut, his hands have gone back to the armrest and he is white-knuckled pushing back in the chair and grimacing. His head is pressed back so hard against the back of the seat that if his eyes were open, he’d be looking at the ceiling. After his minor oh-God-please-don’t-let-me-come verbal infraction, he is now holding his breath. I get off his lap and stand over him.

“Breathe,” I softly command him and he releases his breath like a drowning man. Yeah, he’s going to need some kind of relief. “I want you to go and take a shower, Mr. Grey. You can clean my dick, but remember—no self-satisfaction. Understood?”

“Ye… yes, Mistress!” he chokes, still fighting the impending orgasm.

“Change into jeans and a T-shirt only, no boxers. Meet me for dinner in 30 minutes. Don’t forget your collar.” I turn and walk out of his study. It’s going to take him that long just to compose himself. I go to the guest room and change into the little ditty I bought for this evening.


Okay—that was really close!

I thought I had this under control! I’m the one that brings women to the brink of explosion and back down again. I’m the one that has them begging for release. This woman has me begging not to release. I know turnabout is fair play, but damn! I would bet my fortune this was an experienced Domme I’m dealing with here! Thirty minutes to shower and change and be ready for dinner? I won’t get my dick back in my pants in 30 minutes… or shall I say her dick because it certainly is her dick tonight!

I take off my suit coat and pick up my tie. I peek out of the study to see if anyone is around. No one… but it would be just my luck that Taylor pop up like a Jack-in-the-box just as I’m trying to get to the bedroom. I would literally curse him down and most likely fire him if he shows up right now. I cover the protruding appendage with my suit coat and dash to bedroom like I’m being chased. I close the door quietly behind me.

Greystone is still sticking out, more defiant than ever after that last encounter. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, but I’m still the boss, so you just have to fall in line. I strip and step into an arctic blast shower, removing the shower head and aiming the water directly at my defiant dick. It took a full 10 minutes of spray-rest-spray-rest for him to finally give up the fight. I’ve had some form of erection—either partially up, half-mast, or full throttle—for the last six hours. I never thought I’d say that it felt so good to be flaccid, if only for a little while. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief as I clean myself… including the now “at ease” little soldier… and get ready for dinner.

I should have known there was a catch. When I come into the dining room, I’m wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and my collar as instructed. She is wearing an off-the-shoulder peasant style dress—or I should really say shirt—with a pair of black peep-toe platform stiletto booties that lace up around the feet and ankles… and her collar. Fuck, she is hot! It’s okay. I’ve got Greystone under control. We can do this, now!

“Mr. Grey, have a seat,” she says in that seductive voice of hers. I stride purposefully to the table and take my seat. I can see that it has visibly affected her. Although I’m pleased to have this kind of effect on her, I don’t want to provoke her right now. So hopefully, she won’t see that as insolence.

“We’re going to have a conversation, Mr. Grey,” she says as she serves me oven roasted shrimp and garlic over herb wild rice with Parmesan roasted broccoli. “Jason seems to be under the impression that you had a bad day.” She says as she pours the wine, a David Family Anderson Valley Pinot Noir. Yeah, Jason needs to keep his fucking mouth shut before Jason quickly finds his ass unemployed.

“Not at all, Mistress. I’ll admit that I was wound a little tight this afternoon, but far from a bad day,” I assure her.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” she says as she starts to eat her dinner. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve thought of today so far.”

“Permission to speak freely, Mistress,” I ask obediently.

“Permission granted,” she replies.

“I only had a hard time with the collar, Mistress. Not because I didn’t want to wear it. In fact, it’s quite…comforting.” A small smile threatens the corners of her lips. “It’s just that… it’s very distracting. I thought of Mistress all day while I was wearing it, which I know is the purpose of wearing the collar. I just…” I’m not sure how to verbalize the next thought. She lays her fork down.

“Tell me,” she says softly.

“You consume my thoughts,” I say, dropping my head. “I think of you and little else when I’m wearing it, and I don’t want to make a bad business decision when I’m under my Mistress’ control. I don’t want to… push the proverbial button, so to speak,” I tell her. I don’t want to appear weak, like I can’t function while wearing the collar, but I have to be sharp when I’m in a business setting. I can’t be distracted or sidetracked… and today, I was both.

“I see,” she says, picking up her fork again. “This is the reason for the collar, Mr. Grey. Today was TPE because of your serious infractions last week. However, I’m not insensitive to your position—to your need to be focused and to make crucial decisions—which is why I checked your schedule in advance to be sure that I wouldn’t pick a day in which you may have, how did you put it… pushed the proverbial button.” She takes a forkful of her shrimp and rice. I watch her chew daintily.

“Of course, I respect the fact that you have a company to run, and I would never undermine that with an exercise in Domination. However, I will require that you wear your collar and possibly be subjected to TPE in the future should you commit an infraction of this magnitude ever again. It wasn’t meant to be pleasant, although I’m aware of the psychological effect of the collar in most cases—I felt the same way wearing mine even though I wasn’t the one under submission.”

She drops her eyes momentarily and I know that she’s telling the truth. I know that she feels the same sense of possession and ownership from her collar that I feel from mine.

“However, as a seasoned Dominant, you must know that the purpose of this particular exercise is punishment and control. You’re being punished and I have the control, and you trust me not to put you in a position where you would ever ‘push the button.’ I’m not particular for all forms of punishment, though we will be experimenting with some of them tonight…” I swallow hard. Experimenting? With which ones? Okay… now I’m nervous as fuck. “…but I chose the smallest collar because I knew that you could wear it under your shirt, and no one need know what we were doing.”

I can see that she has put some serious thought into this. The choice of clothing did not slip by me today either. I may not have been marked by my collar, but I was clearly marked by my accessories. Hell, anyone who saw me today probably thought I was going to the fucking prom! What I just realized is that I attempted to negotiate my punishment with my Mistress, which is something that a submissive should never do. However, I’m relearning this position and she did ask me how I felt about today as well as give me permission to speak freely.

“Yes, Mistress, I understand. It was a good choice, thank you.” She smiles at me again. Okay, a little less nervous about the experimenting now, but hey, I’ve suffered the worst at the hands of someone who abused me and called it “help.” I’m sure that whatever Mistress has in store can’t be worse than that…

We finish our meal and have dessert of Irish chocolate mint layer cake with mint chocolate chip ice-cream. After she has cleared the dishes, Mistress instructs me to go to the Playroom, strip, and wait for her there.

Fuck! The Playroom!

I’ve never subbed in my own Playroom.

My stomach does flip-flops, but I do what I’m told and go to the Playroom. She has not told me what position to take, so I strip and stand obediently in the middle of the room with my eyes to the floor. My heart is beating heavily and my breathing is uncontrolled.

“Get it together, Grey, ” I say quietly to myself as my heart and breathing slow to regular rates. My Mistress and I have talked in detail about the things that I like and do not like, what I can and cannot tolerate, my hard and soft limits. I know that she won’t violate my trust, but she has already told me that she is going to send me to the end of my wits and she will not be gentle. To that end, the anticipation is still quite nerve-wrecking.

A few minutes after I’ve undressed, I hear her enter the room. A few steps later, her black stilettos stand in front of me. “Look at me, Mr. Grey.” I let my eyes roam up her body… and Greystone twitches again.

Fucking hell…

Mistress is wearing a structured red and black corset with an illegal pair of red and black lace thongs. My mouth actually waters when I look at her.

“Do you like what you see, Mr. Grey?” she purrs.

“Absolutely, my Mistress,” I say, trying to control my voice. She raises her eyebrow at me, noticing the fluctuation that is normally used to seduce her. Oh shit, I’m going to pay for that.

“We have discussed restraints, have we not, Mr. Grey?”

“We have, Mistress.”

“To the cross—face away from me.”

Okay… this is going to be weird. My cross is not built for me. I’m way too tall for it. Surely, she knows this…

Of course, she does, Asshole.

I turn around and walk over to the cross. She attaches my wrists to the upper restraints but not my feet. She steps away from me and I hear her pull something from the wall.

Oh, shit. This is going to be physical.

She’s behind me again, gently caressing my ass and my balls between my legs.

“You will need your last two safewords now, Mr. Grey,” she says, softly. “Choose your safeword for when you are reaching your limit.” I clear my throat.

“Sails, Mistress,” I respond.

“Sails,” she repeats.

“Yes, sails, Mistress.”

“Okay. Choose your safeword for when you want me to stop immediately,” she instructs.

“Knots, Mistress.” Both sailing terms.

“Knots,” she repeats.

“Yes, Mistress. Knots.”

“Very well. Walk backwards, Mr. Grey.” I take two steps backwards. “Stop. Now feet apart.” I spread my legs a bit. “Wider.” I spread them wider and find that I’m standing with my ass sticking out in almost an eagle-spread position. “That’s it,” she purrs as she cups my balls from behind.

“You had another infraction this morning, Mr. Grey. Do you remember what it was?”

“Yes, Mistress. I failed to address you properly,” I respond.

“That’s correct. I’m going to spank you, Mr. Grey.” Fuck! “What are your safewords?”

“Sails and knots, Mistress.”

“And your sexual safeword?”


“Very good.” She caresses my ass the same way that I caress hers before I spank her. Then I see her feet to the left of me, spread apart. She is taking a stance. I feel a soft, rhythmic slapping on my ass cheeks… fast and repetitious. That’s a riding crop.

Oh, hell. Now, I’m scared.

Deep breaths, Grey.

She rubs the stem along my thighs where they meet my ass and then gently flick my balls. Shit, she’s pretty good with this. The gentle flicking commences on my ass again and then…


Oh shit! Not the hardest I’ve been hit, but a good solid whack on my right butt cheek that surprises the fuck out of me and causes me to jump. A shock of pain runs through my ass and down my leg. Damn! It’s been a while since I’ve felt this. The crop is flicking again, gently over my thighs and around my back and butt and…


The left butt cheek gets it this time. Fucking hell! The cells are awake now, boys. The same familiar jolt of pain shoots down my leg and now… Greystone is alive again. He’s slowly curling from his frost-induced hibernation when…


Hello! Did someone call me?
Yeah, Buddy, it’s time for action. There’s nothing I can do to help you here.

This process continues for a while… caressing, then the flicking of the crop, then the heavy, snapping strikes. Yes, it’s punishment, because the pain is quite stinging. At the same time, I’m transcending my thresholds again and the pleasure/pain line that I so easily cross is causing beads of sweat to form on my skin and Greystone is jumping madly between my legs. I try to count my blows, but lose track somewhere between 12 and 20, too absorbed in the pleasure of the sting to care anymore.

I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the crop. The cane and the whip, not so much—but the sting of the crop, handled properly, I like. I don’t know where she learned, what she watched, what she read, or who she talked to, but she’s working the fuck out of this crop. At that moment, Greystone yelled up at me that party time is about to commence and I have to stop the inevitable flow that was about to proceed…


“Sails!” he declares, loudly, and I stop the motion of the riding crop.

“Talk to me,” I say, gently.

“The pain was exquisite and I almost came. If Mistress had struck me once more, I’m afraid I would have come. So I didn’t know whether to say sails or wings, Mistress,” he confesses, his breathing labored.

“But I haven’t hurt you past your limit?” I ask.

“No, Mistress, you have not,” he replies. I stroke his muscular pink ass and admire the stripes there. His dick is standing at full attention, pink and purple and so suckable, pre-cum dripping from the tip and his balls large and tight and screaming for release. I gently caress his genitals to admire my handiwork. I have barely touched him when he speaks.

“Wings! Wings, Mistress, wings,” he whimpers, dropping his head back, his voice tortured. Oh, yes, he’s right there. The breathy ache in his voice can’t be imitated.

“Very well, Mr. Grey. I will allow you a momentary reprieve.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” was his breathy reply. I go to the en suite and retrieve the Arnica cream. While his impressive third leg starts to deflate, I apply the cream to his incredibly pink ass and thighs.

“The crop likes you, Mr. Grey,” I say as the designer crop has left little imprints of it’s Chanel emblem across his butt cheeks.

“I like the crop as well, Mistress. It’s pain and pleasure for me.” I figured as much. He has a high pain threshold and finds satisfaction in exercises that would normally cause discomfort—hence his happiness at the possible “battle scars” on his thighs from last night. I release him from the cross and order him face up on the bed. He lies on the bed and I inform him that I’m going to shackle him the bed. When he agrees, I attach restraints to his wrists and ankles. His ankles are attached firmly at the foot of the four-poster bed, spread wide while his wrists are attached with quick release restraints. I’m going to want him out of those at that crucial moment.

“Mr. Grey, do you trust me?” I ask.

“Yes, Mistress,” he says definitively.

“Good. I’m going to blindfold you,” I say. After only a momentary pause, he responds,

“Yes, Mistress.” I produce the blindfold from the drawer in the chest where I placed it earlier and put it over Christian’s eyes. His breathing picks up marginally, but for the most part, he remains calm.

“This is for your pleasure, Mr. Grey, but remember that you cannot come. Use your sexual safeword. You are going to hear music in a moment ”

“Yes, Mistress,” he says, breathily.

I go over to the iPod dock and choose my music—Slow by Depeche Mode. I watch his reaction as the music starts—a bluesy, almost dreary, sensual tune with sexual undertones and overtones. He licks his lips and waits for what’s coming next. I remembered how much I enjoyed this and I know he needs a heavier hand to appreciate it the way that I did. He used a deerskin flogger with me. For him, I’m using a braided leather flogger with wooden skull beads on the tips. I start at his left foot and pull the flogger slowly from his toes, up his leg, over his knee, and past his thigh. There is a sharp intake of air when it touches his feet, then the rise and fall of his chest quickens as it travels up his leg.

“Do you know what this is?” I ask.

“Yes, Mistress. It’s a flogger,” he says between breaths. I start the process on his other leg.

“You may make sounds, Mr. Grey, but you may only speak when you are spoken to or to use your safeword. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he breathes. I rake the flogger across his body like he did mine two weeks ago—gentle wrapping then pull. His breathing is audible. When I strike him harder across his legs, he pulls on his restraints.

“Ah!” he cries out, then breathes heavily… and his dick is rising again. Oh, Mr. Grey, you’re so easy. I tease him some more with the wooden beads, then strike him again, this time on his thighs careful of the scars from yesterday. He cries out again. When I rain the playful strikes again over his torso, they’re a little harder this time… and his cock does a dance for me, flexing each time I connect. Christian moans a sensual tormented sound from his chest, pulling again on his restraints until I’m sure he’ll will break them. I pull the flogger between his legs so that the wooden beads and braided strands drag across his swollen balls and dick.

“Aaaaaahhhh!” He almost can’t stand the contact but manages to maintain himself—his fists clenched and his legs bent pulling on his ankle restraints. I’m glad we used leather restraints or he would surely be bruised for his trip tomorrow. I continue to rain the blows on his torso, legs and thighs, in succession from top to bottom with no relief from one blow to the next, increasing in intensity, his member growing and hardening to massive and impressive proportions until…

“WIIIIINGS!” he cries out. I stop just in time to see a repeat of the near ejaculation I saw in his office this afternoon. I understand why he likes doing this. Watching him squirm and seeing his pleasure has made me so fucking hot, I’m chastising myself for saying that I won’t come until he does. I’m fucking ready to explode watching his tortured body fight off this orgasm, his dick sticking straight up begging for me to ride him—but if I jump up there now, it’ll be over in seconds. He’s growling to calm his arousal, but it doesn’t seem to be doing any good. This man has withstood four extremely impressive orgasm denials. In my research for these scenes, most men could only withstand one or two of these intensities because while it’s an intense experience for a woman (and uncomfortable if taken too far), my understanding is that it can be quite painful for a man—especially if it’s taken too far. I’ve decided that his final denial won’t be a denial…

… but he doesn’t know that yet.

The super-impressive boner still is not receding and Mr. Grey looks very uncomfortable. I go to the en suite and get a very cold rag. I return to the bed.

“It’s cold, Mr. Grey. Are you ready?” He takes several deep breaths and says, “Okay. Yes, Mistress.” I put the rag on his balls and, to my surprise, he squirts a small amount of pre-cum!

From a cold rag!? I thought that was supposed to calm this thing down.

Well, hell, the man has been ready to come for at least 12 damn hours! What the fuck do you expect?
Oh, no! This is my party! No threesomes up in here. Your ass gotta go!

After duly dismissing the bitch, I notice that the impressive erection is going down and Christian’s breathing is returning to normal. I go to the en suite and wet a second rag with cold water. When I return to his side, I quickly replace the first rag, this time covering his dick and his balls. I sit on the bed next to him and remove his blindfold.

“Can you continue, Mr. Grey? We can stop anytime.”

“No… no… I’m fine, Mistress,” he says controlling his breathing now, as if Christian Grey would ever accept defeat.

“Good,” I say seductively, unlacing and removing my shoes and then slowly sliding down my panties, “because I want you, and I need to come.” I declare as I remove the now warm washcloth from his genitals. He stands just about at half-mast, so I know he has some control over it now. Let’s see how much.

I climb on top of him the same way I did in his study this evening, and his seductive gray eyes capture me the same way they did at that time. I rub my hands on his chest as I straddle his body.

“Beautiful,” I say as I caress and admire his stomach, his abs, his arms. His breath relaxes again. I lean down and kiss him passionately, my tongue exploring the crevices of his mouth while his tongue battles seductively with mine. I hear a moan escape his chest again and when I release his mouth, he gasps once for air like he was holding his breath all this time. I feel his erection rise against me again.


I release the wrist restraints. “Hands above your head,” I command. He looks both determined and tortured as he follows my instructions. It’s very easy to slide onto his erection because he’s very hard now and I’m very wet. I spread my legs and drop down on him balls deep and sit there for a moment, savoring the fullness. He growls gutturally and almost reaches for me, then remembers his position and tangles his hands into the intricate woodworking of his Playroom bed headboard. He lies flat on the bed as I begin a slow, ruthless grind… not a stroke, I don’t bounce up and down. It’s a grind—round and round, back and forth, balls deep.

His mouth is hanging open and we moan together nonstop as my hips move in fluid motion, grinding my pelvis against him and giving his penis no respite from the exquisite torture. His head drops back in pleasure, I observe my collar around his neck and reach for it once again, this time with both hands. He raises his head and his eyes capture mine. In my ecstasy, my eyes ask a question my lips can’t formulate.

“Yes, Mistress!” he growls in answer to my unspoken question… and I squeeze, gently at first, then a little harder, just enough pressure to…

“Ah!” he cries out, arousal thick in his voice as he stretches his neck to me.

“You can move your hands!” I breathe heavily as I feel my stomach quickening and a familiar burning in my core. Christian untangles his fingers from the headboard and, still looking me in my eyes, grabs my arms to push my weight down and apply more pressure to his neck. I comply while I intensify my relentless massage of our lower regions. Nearly forgetting myself and my purpose, I throw my head back, welcoming the release that is peering at me just out of reach.

“Ah! Oh… God… Mis… tress…” I know there is no going back for either of us now. There is a violent rumble in my loins and I scream.

“Aaaaaaaahh! Come with me, Christian!” I wail.

“G-God… a… ah… ah…” I think I broke him. I can barely talk myself. My legs and feet have stiffened in the orgasm and I can’t move.

“C-Christian… come… n-now!” A fire shoots through me and I tighten my kegels to wring the rest of my orgasm out.

He lets out a visceral, primal combination of a growl and a cry, almost like he’s weeping, wheezing. He sits up quickly and is clutching onto me and squeezing me like a grape, pressing me down onto his erection burying himself in me until I feel his balls bumping involuntarily on my ass. He is holding me still, emptying hotly into me, his head buried in my chest, his legs shaking violently, still wheezing as his release goes on and on. I run my fingers through his hair as he begins to come down from his extra-terrestrial orgasm. Hell, he’s been holding it in all day… coming so tantalizingly close so many times that the buildup must have been unbearable. Take that to Vegas with you!

He’s still breathless as he turns his head to kiss me without releasing me. He kisses any part of me that he can reach without letting me go… my breast, my chest, my neck, my face, my shoulders…

“Oh God, thank you,” he says softly between kisses. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He continues repeatedly between chaste, reverential kisses. Somehow, I get the feeling that he’s not just thanking me for a massive orgasm.

Neither of us can move for several moments and we sit there, holding each other and rocking the same way that we did the night that I made love to him in my bed. A few minutes later, I gently rise off of him, recognizing how tender he must be, and release his foot restraints. I pick up our clothing, turn off the iPod, and lead him to our room.

Once we are there, he takes the clothes from my hands and puts them in a chair. He meticulously unlaces my corset and helps me out of it. Neither of us say a word, though we exchange several smiles and loving glances. Once he removes my corset, he retrieves the T-shirt that he had been wearing that evening and slips it over my head. It still carries his smell. Then he grabs some pajama pants from the drawer and put them on. We climb into bed and he turns off the lamp on the nightstand. Somehow, I knew tonight is not a night for spooning. I need to face him, to look into his eyes. He pulls me so close to him, so close, I get that feeling again… that we were one person.

“I love you, Ana. I love you so much. Thank you so much for today. It was magnificent. Liberating and healing. I’ll always remember it as long as I live and I’ll never try to hurt myself again.”

My heart swells larger than ever at his words. He had given himself to me—trusted me completely with his body, heart, and mind… and he’s thanking me… and again, I see that unnamed emotion in his eyes… that same emotion I saw in his office earlier today…


I hold her close to me, once again wishing I could meld her into me, still relishing in what is likely the most wonderful experience of my life.

“Christian… what is it?” she asks softly, gazing into my eye.

“I never particularly enjoyed being a sub—until you. Today was everything being a submissive should be about… about relinquishing control and obeying your Domme unquestioningly. About trust and possession and punishment and satisfaction. About pushing limits, but knowing that there is a reason for every action. About knowing when to stop, and knowing when to keep going. About knowing your role and your place and about reward when you have performed your duties. I never felt cherished or cared for or protected or completely safe as a submissive… until you. Today was extraordinary. Thank you.”

She smiles that beautiful smile at me and snuggles into my arms. Moments later, she’s asleep. As I slowly begin to follow her into contented slumber, I only have one thought:

If I made my subs feel the way that she made me feel today—even in punishment—I now understand why they fell in love with me.

A/N: Push the button—references the mythical “button” that the President of the United States can push and launch nuclear weapons. One of the reasons that sexists claimed to not want a woman President is because she would get PMS one day and “push the (red) button.” There actually is no such button that the President can push. There is, however, a briefcase called the “football” that contains the launch codes and instructions for or following a nuclear attack. However, it has to be confirmed by the Secretary of Defense. Christian is nervous that if he is wearing his collar and thinking of Ana, he may do something irresponsible and effectively “push the button” on one of his companies.

Don’t forget to check out the pictures at Ladies, I was actually DROOLING as I was getting Christian dressed!

Green Valley begins next, so get ready for it…!

You can join my mailing list on the “Contact Me” page. Just click the link and it will lead you to a form to join the list.

~~love and handcuffs

9 thoughts on “Paging Dr. Steele: Chapter 37: Are You Game?

  1. Donna Murray-Hill says:

    omg amazing i was about to combust reading, i felt like Ana was punishing me, oh wow, oh wow, your a great, great writer xxxxxxx

  2. cindav says:

    love going back to re read. i must have missed that last sentence. where he finally gets how his subs could have wanted more.

  3. jjgoldmann says:

    Not only was this the best chapter and story but what a revelation for him!

  4. jenndukefan says:

    I am loving all the chapters…the BDSM and sex scenes are getting hotter and hotter than the previous one. I can not put my iPad down. I am addicted to your story. I love the music tie-ins that you are using (especially Depeche Mode — I think they have many songs that can fit the sex and BDSM scenes.). You are a fantastic writer! Thank you so much for “Paging Dr. Steele”. Okay I can’t hold off on reading the next chapter any longer. Jenn

  5. Lizzy says:

    Amazing chapter, CG’s had a “FULL” day😂!! Ana did good as her first Domme punishment!! That playroom scene was HOT!! CG’s revelation at the end I’m sure gives him some sort of Empathy for his past subs!!

  6. Camille says:

    Love re-reading the saga.

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