Paging Dr. Steele: Chapter 55—Fallout

The Dark Blue Savior…

So, we had a hot playtime scene, but now we need to know why it kind of went over so badly… until the end anyway. We need to get to the bottom of that, now, don’t we…?

So, I was a little disappointed at first because it seemed like I wasn’t getting as many reviews as I normally get. Then I checked my PM’s… and my emails… and my Facebook… and you sassy little ladies were getting busy and sending me messages, not wanting the rest of the world to know your secrets, lol. I won’t mention any names but, oh boy! You little freaks and minxes… I have found my people (tear, sniff sniff)! It was hot and juicy all over the world on Saturday night/Sunday morning.

What I really liked was how many people sent reviews and messages just to tell me that they were speechless… that was fabulous! And I have gotten some of the best descriptive phrases in these last reviews that I have ever seen. Oh, good God! I apologize to those of you who sent your hubbies away and THEN read the chapters, but I thought the phrase “12,000 words of sex” would have been a dead giveaway… sorry. 😉

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 55—Fallout


I awake to a very bright sun blaring into the bedroom window. There’s no hope of reprieve from this sunshine. I can hear Christian calling my name softly and realize that it was actually his voice that awakened me. I swear I was just falling asleep after a very agonizing early morning play session, and now I have to open my eyes again?

“What is it?’ I say, barely able to get my voice out.

“You need to wake up, Baby. It’s late and you need to eat something.” I turn my head towards him and try to open my eyes.

“What time is it?” I squeak, still unable to speak too loudly.

“You’ve slept all morning, Butterfly. It’s about 11:30,” he says, stroking my stringy hair. Well, Mr. Grey, that would be because I was up all night!

“How long have you been awake?” I ask. He looks as fresh as a damn daisy.

“Only a couple of hours. I made some calls and answered some emails. It is Monday morning in Seattle after all.” Yes, I know. I really need to touch bases with Marilyn and make sure the office hasn’t burned down. I make to get out of the bed and…  oh…  my…  fuck!

“Ow! Ow! Oh God! Oh God!” I yelp in pain. Christian is immediately alert and leaning over me.

“What’s wrong, Baby?” he asks, attentively.

“Everything hurts! Everything hurts!” I whine, squeezing my eyes shut and lying back in the bed, breathing heavily. Christian has disappeared into the en suite and I hear water running.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, and I reply with a pain-filled um-hmm. When he leaves the room, I run over the activities of yesterday:

Several laps in the pool in the afternoon.
Marco Polo when we got back well after midnight.
Subbing for Christian until the sun came up, which involved clenching and flexing every muscle in my body for hours trying not to come.

Yep—that last one did it.

I just want to go back to sleep. I don’t care about getting up or doing anything today. I hurt! But I know that if I sleep all day, I’ll destroy my internal clock and I’ll never get it right again. Christian is back in a flash with some fresh fruit and a small seafood salad packed on ice, and some orange juice. He sets the tray down and goes to the en suite to stop the running water. When he comes back to me, he’s naked.

Oh, come on, Grey, not again!

“Come on, Baby,” he says, pulling the covers back and lifting me into his arms. The slightest movement causes aching everywhere.

“Agh!” I protest gently as he adjusts me and carries me to the en suite. I instantly feel a bit shameful as I smell the distinct fragrance of lemongrass and the jets in the Jacuzzi tub are bubbling. He steps down into the tub with me in his arms and gently sits me down in the warm water all the way up to my neck. The feeling is heavenly.

“Mmmmm,” I moan as the jets begin to sooth my aching muscles. I close my eyes and relax myself as Christian starts to deftly maneuver around me in the two-man tub, massaging anywhere that he can reach without my having to move—my feet, my ankles, my calves, my thighs, my hands, my wrists, my arms, my shoulders…  I’m still pretty sore, but he and the hot water and Jacuzzi jets have worked most of the knots out of me. After several minutes, he gets out of the tub and grabs a towel. He puts it over the closed toilet seat before returning with my shampoo and conditioner. He gets back into the tub and attends to my hair, washing it thoroughly then massaging the conditioner into it before rinsing it and squeezing out the excess water.

“Can you stand?” he asks, standing next to me in the tub. I take his hand and struggle to get to my feet. It’s not as painful as before, but still uncomfortable.

“I think we overdid it this morning, Baby,” he says, bending over and lifting me in his arms again. I sigh heavily.

“I think we did, too,” I confess, reluctantly. I don’t want him to think that I can’t take it… that I can’t sub for him, but something is very wrong with how I’m feeling right now. So, we can’t have a repeat of this… there has to be some adjustments.

He places me on the towel-covered toilet and grabs some more towels. He wraps himself in one and begins to dry me completely with another before wrapping the towel around my wet hair. He puts my terry cloth bathrobe over my shoulders before lifting me up again and placing me in the bed.

“I want you to eat the salad and the fruit and I’m going to go and get you some ibuprofen, okay?” I nod as I gladly tear into the fresh fruit… my island food of choice. He smiles and goes back into the en suite. As I’m finishing my fruit, he returns fully clothed with the bottle of ibuprofen in his hand. He leaves two on the night table closest to me and goes back to the bathroom. After retrieving a comb, a brush, and a ponytail holder, he slides in behind me and removes the towel from my damp hair. While I eat my seafood salad, he gently combs the tangles from my hair, smooths it with the brush, and braids it into a beautiful inside French braid before securing it at the end with the ponytail holder.

I don’t even want to begin to speculate why he knows how to braid this well.

He hands me the two ibuprofen and the orange juice. I gladly swallow the painkillers with several healthy gulps of the delicious orange juice. When I put the glass on the night table, he leans back with me in his arms and we relax in the bed for a moment, half sitting up and his legs on either side of me.

“Mandy came back completely clean by the way. Totally legit, no skeletons, no huge debts, absolutely nothing whatsoever to be concerned about. I meant to tell you before we left Seattle, but it slipped my mind,” he says.

“What brought it to mind now?” I ask, curious.

“I talked to Welch this morning about some other things we’re working on. Nothing of substance yet, but I’ll tell you as soon as there is,” he says, kissing my temple. At least I don’t have to worry about Ray now. There’s enough people on my shit-list to last me a lifetime without worrying about fuckin’-up-a-Mandy!

“We need to talk about this morning,” he says. My whole body tenses at the mention of it. “And that reaction tells me that I’m exactly right that we need to talk about it,” he confirms. I sigh.

“Okay… so where do you want to start?” I ask, softly.

“There was a determination in you that I’ve never seen before. Was that for me?”

“I think so,” I answer, not knowing why I chose that phrase.

“You think so? You don’t know?” he asks.

“You told me not to come,” I reply with no other explanation.

“I’ve told you not to come before, Ana,” he says.

Yes, and when I did, look what happened?

“What is it? What are you not telling me?”

Well, if I’m not telling you, what makes you think I want to tell you now?

“Did you not want to do this? Because if you didn’t, I don’t understand why you offered.” I roll my eyes, partially happy that he can’t see me.

“I know you needed it. I know that yesterday was a particularly bad day for you. All of the revelations that you had to face all the way down to the fight at the bar were pretty intense. Even my Marco Polo attempt to lighten the mood did nothing for you. I can read you, Christian, and I knew what you needed. I just wish I had been better prepared.” I can feel the frowning energy.

“What do you mean?” he asks, an unnamed emotion evident in his voice. This is going to be hard to say.

“I should have been prepared for total dominance—no holds barred. Even though I’m sure that you did not pull out all the stops on me—because I’ve seen that room—you were, in no way, my lover this morning… until the end, that is. You were completely and totally my Dom, and I wasn’t ready for it. I take responsibility for that, because I should have known that’s what you needed when you sat at the pool alone all of that time. I could have even dealt with that, but there were so many things wrong.” I have his attention now. He shifts himself so that he is facing me.

“What else was wrong, Anastasia?” And I’m Anastasia again.

“I didn’t want that spanking,” I spit.

“You didn’t want it?” he says incredulously. He’s thinking something different from what I am.

“I don’t care about being spanked, but I didn’t want that spanking. How I felt about that spanking set the tone for the session.”

“What do you mean? How did you feel?” Again, I don’t know how to tell him this. “Ana, if you didn’t like what was going on, why didn’t you stop me?”

“I almost did!” I answer more quickly than I intended. Shock actually registers on his face. “I didn’t stop you because somewhere in there… ” when you grabbed my pussy, “… the tone changed… a little… and this is the nature of our relationship—well, one of the aspects anyway. So, I felt like I needed to understand the spectrum of where this could go, even if at times I’m not completely pleased with the direction.” I’ve explained that the best way I can. He closes his eyes and I think he’s counting, like he did that day at the community center. I haven’t seen him do that in a while. When he opens his eyes, he continues.

“You didn’t tell me how it made you feel,” he says, that unnamed emotion hiding in his voice again. I know exactly how I felt, but I don’t know how he’s going to take it…  knowing that I went through a session with these feelings.

“I felt resentful. I wanted to be in control of how and when I received that spanking, especially since I didn’t think I deserved it in the first place. When you immediately posed the question and I knew how you expected me to answer it, I felt… ” I know what I want to say, but it seems so harsh for the situation. I don’t know how to say it kindly or how to filter it.

“Tell me…  what did you feel? I need to know,” he presses. I try to look away from him, but he holds my chin and won’t allow me to turn away.

Betrayed. I felt betrayed,” I say just above a whisper. His eyes transform to a sharp, glassy white-gray with those words.

“How? Why?” he asks.

“Just that one situation… I wanted control. I was willing to allow you to spank me for coming because I did agree not to come, but the fact that you gave me control by being able to dictate when it happened, and then you took it right back away from me. I was giving myself to you. What was I going to say…? ‘Oh, you can do everything except that?'” I hope I’m making this point without making him angry. “And then the spanking itself. The first time you spanked me… it was erotic, it was sexy. It was painful, and I took all that I could—but it was arousing. Last night was different. It was rough, brutal, and purposeful. I had no doubt that I was being punished.”

“Yes, Anastasia, you were,” he says a little sharply. His tone and the fact that he’s now calling me Anastasia again fuels my confidence to say what I need to say.

“That’s fine, and I don’t have a problem with that. I do have a problem with you using the fact that I gave myself to you to snatch that particular piece of control from me for that moment. Everything was different from that moment—the flogging, the fucking, the touching, the speaking… everything was different. It was almost like I didn’t know you, but I knew I had to do exactly what you told me to do.”

“It was different exactly for that reason,” he defends. “I needed control and you knew that I needed control, but when you subbed for me, you didn’t sub for me completely. When I addressed you, your response, your demeanor, your stance, everything screamed of defiance…”

“I wasn’t defying you. I was angry and a bit hurt and I didn’t know how to process those feelings in context. How can a sub be angry and hurt for being punished? You do what you’re told, and that’s it! If you don’t do what you’re told, you get punished. You told me not to come…  and I came. I accepted the fact that I would be punished, but we compromised, and I was supposed to decide when it happened. At your first opportunity, you took that away from me and I was punished—thoroughly—when I didn’t feel like I should have been and when I wasn’t prepared for it. So, yes, I was angry and hurt and confused, and right after you punished me, you told me not to come again…” I trail off.

“And you didn’t come,” he says softly. “You could barely come when I wanted you to… until I pulled out the big guns.” I shake my head.

“I can’t tell you what was happening there… I don’t completely know.” I can’t tell him that I felt punished for most of the night. I don’t want him to feel like I can’t endure being his sub when he needs it because I can, but last night was very different. I felt like the first half of the night was a punishment and the second half was a test, so that when he wanted to be tender with me, I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to go to sleep—to rest and try to rejuvenate myself—but my body wouldn’t stop shaking and my spirit was in a constant state of unrest. Luckily my mind was completely exhausted, and I was able to slip off to sleep, but the minute that I did he was touching me again.

“I believe you do know, Anastasia. You just don’t want to tell me,” he says, his voice a little hurt.

“I really don’t, Christian,” I say honestly. I don’t know what made me not be able to immediately give in to his tenderness when he offered it. I don’t even know what made me able to ultimately give in to him. This morning was one big ball of confusing and strange, although I’ll never forget the oral technique as long as I live. Fucking hell! I mean…  damn…  fucking hell…  but it took something that drastic for me to be able to let go completely. Otherwise, I couldn’t do it. I bend my legs and wrap my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees.

“And you’re doing that again,” he says, and there’s that unnamed emotion in his voice again. “You keep drawing into yourself. You did it twice last night. The first time, you were on your knees in that same position, but you were face down on the bed… and I just put you in another position and kept going. The second time was right after I came for the last time and I released your arms from the restraints. You pulled your arms close to you, squeezed yourself together and turned away from me. So, I held you and you immediately fell asleep the first time. Now you’re doing it again. That’s the third time in something like twelve hours… and I don’t ever remember seeing you do that before.”

I’ve almost identified this emotion in his voice. Defeat? Sorrow? I now bury my face in my knees. I’m having a hard time looking at him. He takes my arms from around my legs and surprises me by snatching me into his lap, placing his hand on my cheek and kissing me deeply and feverishly.

Good God Almighty!

Combustible gases are exploding all around me as I thrust my hand into his hair and whimper into his mouth. Amazingly, I’m not getting horny, but my soul is crackling, and my heart is thumping hard in my chest! I feel like I want to climb into him! He pulls his lips roughly away from mine, his powerful hand still holding my face and his lips only breaths away from mine and I pant wildly. I feel so small in his arms…  like a doll…

“Anastasia, I love you,” he breathes against my mouth. “I never want you to degrade yourself for me. I don’t get a kick out of that. Giving yourself to me is one thing. Degrading yourself is something else completely. I don’t want that from you. I love you too much.” He closes his eyes and put his forehead on mine…  and there it is. The thing that kept making me draw into myself this morning and even now…  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but now I know.

It was degradation.

I didn’t feel cherished or loved or wanted or needed. I felt degraded. I didn’t feel like he dominated me. I didn’t feel like he used me or needed me for the purposes that I wanted to serve. I felt like he completely degraded me. When he was ready to show me tenderness, I didn’t feel my Christian… I felt this strange Dom. I was afraid that this is who he would become whenever he really lost control and I would just have to deal with it. So, when he made me come the first two times I was, once again, following orders which was easy to do because I was wound like a top.

By the third time, he had asked me if he could make me come and he was showing so much love and tenderness that I knew my Christian was back… but I didn’t know before then. When he was loving me… so slowly, so deeply with his tongue… oh! My soul lifted out of my body, and I was a helpless ball of emotion. As he slowly brought me to one of the headiest, craziest, most intense orgasms I’ve ever felt in my life, I felt light and free and released—not only sexually but emotionally. I remember the orgasm brought with it tears of relief… because my Christian was back. As I look into his eyes right now, I can finally identify that unnamed emotion that’s been lacing his voice.

It’s shame.

“Would it help if you dominated me… as a punishment for degrading you?” he asks, almost contrite.

“No!” I say, almost whining and sitting up in his arms. “I don’t want to dominate you… not like that! We can’t do that! Even I know that’s not how that works. If I punish you for punishing me, your domination serves no purpose… and neither does mine. You know this, I don’t have to tell you this,” I scold. He nods.

“Yes, I do know this under normal circumstances, but I’ve never had a sub…  or a Domme…  that’s also my girlfriend. Lo and behold, as if it’s possible, here’s an area of the D/s relationship that I’m not familiar with.” Well, wonders never cease…  but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Well, since I’ve never been a Domme or a sub before you, I guess maybe we might want to do some research or something and talk about how we might want to handle this, but I know for certain that domination for retribution is not the way. If you ever did that to me, I would reconsider our relationship. So, I would never do that to you.” A grave look comes over his face after I say that.

“I’d never do that to you, Butterfly.” And I’m Butterfly again.

“Okay. Then don’t suggest that I do it to you,” I respond. He nods.

“So, what now?” he asks.

“For right now, let’s leave it at this, because we both have a lot to process. All of these feelings that I explained to you…  I haven’t worked through them yet. Now you have to deal with the discovery that I have these feelings and how that discovery makes you feel…  and then we’ve got to come up with a way to handle it.” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Dr. Steele, are you shrinking me?” he asks suspiciously.

“I think I’m shrinking both of us,” I say, rolling my eyes and bringing my hand to my forehead. He removes my hand, kissing it, then my forehead.

“We’ll figure it out, Baby,” he says softly, and I nod.


The ibuprofen, Jacuzzi, and massage did wonders for my aching bones and I’m finally able to move like a normal person. Somewhere around the 1:00 hour, I’m dressed in my Issa silk multicolored halter maxi-dress. It has an orange base with random white, black, gold, and yellow stripes and designs that don’t overpower the orange. It has a wide waistband, a satin lining, and it drags the floor and hides my feet. I unplug my iPhone from the charger and check emails.

Luckily, nothing too pressing. Maxie sent a note to check on me and see how the trip is going. Al is getting acclimated to having a multi-billionaire as his latest client. He’s been dealing with a little flak from the legal team about his unannounced arrival but has assured me that he has “put all of those little bitches in their places and everything is running smoothly now.” Does he mean that literally or figuratively? Are they all women or just acting bitchy? Oh well, whatever they are, Allen the Great has them under control so no need to worry. I notice an email from Melanie asking about our session this week and I wonder why Marilyn didn’t notify her of what’s going on. I forward the message to Marilyn and just as I hit send, I have an incoming call.

It’s Elliot.

“Hey, El,” I say as I answer the call.

Hey, Ana,” he responds. His voice sounds a little heavy. “I need a session this morning, but I came to the office and nobody’s here.” Okay, as my patient and my boyfriend’s brother, how does Elliot not know that I’m not in the country right now!? I need to talk to Marilyn.

“Elliot, Christian and I are in Anguilla. Nobody told you?”

Fuck! Yeah… Marilyn told me. I just forgot.” Okay, you just saved Marilyn an ass reaming. I sit down in the loveseat in the sitting room.

“What’s wrong. Elliot? Talk to me.” He’s sighs heavily.

I so don’t want to do this over the phone.”

“You don’t have a choice right now, El. It sounds like you really need to talk. Do you want to Skype or Facetime instead?”

I can Skype… but it’ll take me a minute to set up my laptop in the truck.”

“Me, too. Fifteen?”

Sure. What’s you handle?”

“Doctorlady206. Yours?”

Seattleblondgod.” Oh, good grief.

“Okay… fifteen,” I say without reacting.

Okay.” He ends the call and I pull out my laptop for the first time since we’ve been on the trip. This room will ensure me the most privacy, so I fashion one of the side tables like a desk and fire up the laptop. I plug my phone back into the charger and, opening Skype, I add “Seattleblondgod” to my friends and wait. After a few minutes, the Skype song plays, and I’m connected to a distraught looking Elliot.

“Elliot, what’s wrong?” I ask him immediately.

I, um…  Ana, I’m falling for Val.” Whoa! Okay…

“How does Val feel about it?”

I don’t know.” Huh?

“You don’t know? What do you mean?”

I mean, we agreed that things were just going to be casual, but I can honestly say that it’s more than that for me. I know that it’s only been a couple of weeks, but I can’t wait to see her and the thought of not being with her scares me. This is insane, man.” He puts his hand on his neck.

“You haven’t talked to Val about how you feel?” I ask.

No, only you…  and before you ask, this has nothing to do with Kate. That’s the first thing that came to my mind when I started having these feelings. I didn’t want to be confusing loneliness and heartbreak for love.” 

Love? Did he just say love?

“I still think about Kate sometimes, but my feelings have waned and if she were standing in front of me right now, I still wouldn’t want her… but Ana, I want Val… so much…” Ugh! This has the potential to be very ugly. “Does she talk about me…  about us…  at all to you?”

“I’ve been a little tied up in the past couple of weeks, El. We haven’t really had time to talk. Plus, I really couldn’t tell you that. I wouldn’t be breaking any laws, but it wouldn’t be ethical with you being my patient and her being my friend.”

Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He drops his head. I note his pained expression.

“Elliot, I love you like a brother, and in this short time I’ve become very protective of you…  watching what happened to you and Kate, hearing the entire ordeal of the Pedo-Bitch-She-Thing… I want you to be happy—as your sister and as your therapist. Talk to Val. Be completely open and honest with her. I can tell you that she is not a malicious or unkind person and I know her well enough to know that she’ll give you the same consideration. Let her know how you feel. If she doesn’t feel the same way, then you two need to decide where to go from here… but don’t make the same mistake that you made with Kate—hiding what you’re feeling and hoping things change. That’s not healthy for either of you.”

I hate to tell him that Val is very much a free spirit and likes to play the field. She’s never been tied down in all the years that I’ve known her. She’s not particularly promiscuous per se, but she has had her share. Then again, so has Elliot from what I hear.

I don’t know how to tell her.”

“Be honest. Just say what you feel, but I don’t recommend starting with ‘I love you.'”

Oh of course not!” he laughs. “I’m smarter than that.” He rubs his neck again. “Sister, huh? Are you trying to tell me something?” Now, it’s my turn to laugh.

“No, no, nothing like that,” I say with mirth, “although he did give me a promise ring,” I said, showing Elliot my butterfly.

Niiiiice.” He sings the word looking at the ring through the screen. “My brother has great taste!”

“That he does!” I laugh. After a moment, he’s somber again.

How should I do this, Ana? I don’t want the moment to be awkward for either of us… especially if it turns out that we don’t feel the same.”

“Well, how would you feel finding out that she doesn’t want what you want?” He shrugs.

It would hurt, but I would rather know sooner than later…  and like you said, we could decide what we want to do after that.”

“Well, it seems you know what to do now.” I smile at him.

Well, I don’t want to monopolize your vacation, Ana Montana, but thanks for talking to me.”

“Anytime, El. Tell me how it goes, okay?”

Sure thing.” He smiles before we say our goodbyes and end our call. I close my laptop and go in search of Christian.

I get off the elevator and I can hear his blackberry ringing on the second floor. I find that odd because he normally has it on vibrate. Nonetheless, I follow the beacon to my man. I find the blackberry in the office area on the desk but no Christian. He’s probably gone to the restroom or something. I’ll just stay right here. He won’t leave his precious blackberry here for long.

It’s ringing again. Somebody really wants to get in touch with him. I better go find him…  this could be important. I go through the lounge, restrooms, all the rooms on the second floor and no Christian. I even rise the stairs and check the third floor…  still no Christian. Whoever is calling him just hangs up and calls right back. Is something wrong?

I come back down the stairs and stand in the office near the phone. Who the hell is calling him this many times? That phone has rung six times since I’ve been standing here. Is someone dead? What if something is wrong with his family? I pick up his blackberry and my blood runs cold when I see that it’s She-Thing…  calling back to back repeatedly!

What the fuck is this?

I try to ignore the calls, but when she calls three more times I finally succumb and answer the phone.

“Christian Grey’s phone, Anastasia Steele speaking.” The silence is deafening. I know you’re there, Bitch.

Why are you answering Christian’s phone?” she spit.

“Why are you calling Christian’s phone?” I spit back.

Apparently, I want to speak to Christian!”

“Apparently, you’re too dense to understand that he doesn’t want to speak to you,” I respond. “It’s really getting old, Elena. You should just give up. Your desperation is showing.”

You have no idea what I’m capable of, Little Girl. You don’t want to toy with me,” she threatens.

“Hit me with your best shot, Bitch. I’m ready for you!” I retort. I hear her gasp on the other end. When is she going to understand that she doesn’t intimidate me…  especially not now?

I see you had a very interesting development last weekend. I hope you’re doing better now,” she says, mocking concern.

“Oh, cut the crap. We both know that you’re just trying to get a rise out of me. It won’t change the fact that he doesn’t want to speak to you,” I say calmly.

I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but I… “ I cut her off.

“I am not going to sit here and spar with you! I don’t need to…  I’ve got the man! Now buy a fucking clue and stop calling him. He doesn’t want to speak to you! Your calling him back-to-back like the psycho ex that you are is just going to piss him off. Save yourself the aggravation and stop calling…  or do you crave constant rejection, you desperate hag?”

I hit the end button and put the blackberry back on the desk. Who the hell does she think she is? How many times does someone have to tell you that they don’t want to speak to you before you fucking understand that they don’t want to speak to you? Crazy psycho bitch! I turn around and I’m greeted with the fiercest, glassiest, most angry nearly-white gray eyes that I’ve ever seen. He can’t be angry at me for that conversation…  can he?

“Who was that?” he asks, his expression unchanged and his voice very controlled.

“Elena Lincoln,” I say, trying to hold my ground on what I said to that sick, meddling whore.

“She called?” he asks.


“And you answered my blackberry.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” I respond, not seeing a problem. It was She-Thing!

“Without my permission.” Um…

“It was Elena!” Bad person. We don’t like her, remember?

“But you answered my blackberry without my permission.” His voice is very cold. I’m not understanding the problem here. It was Elena.

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal… ” As if it could, his glare becomes colder and it sends a chill to my very soul. I don’t know what this feeling is, and it’s making me ill. I don’t think I’m necessarily afraid of him, but I’m sure as hell not comfortable right now, particularly after last night’s experience.

“Not a big deal? Have I ever answered your iPhone without permission?” he barks.

“No, but you put tracking software on it.” Oh… bad move, Steele.

“Which saved your life! After you pitched it in the bushes, I might add! But I still never answered your damn phone!” He’s getting angrier.

“I’m sorry! It was Elena! I didn’t think you would react like this!” I say, trying and failing to defend myself.

“I don’t care who it was. Don’t you trust me?” he asks, his voice accusing.

“Of course, I do!” I spit. Why would he ask me that?

“Then why would you answer my phone? Do you think I’m talking to her?” Not for a second. I knew that she was calling to harass him about me before I even answered the phone.

“No!” I say, clearly appalled. “That never even crossed my mind!”

“But you clearly don’t see anything wrong with answering my phone,” he barks. I’m at a loss for words. I mean if it had been one of his family members, I would have answered it. It was Elena, I definitely answered it. But if it had been one of his employees or colleagues, I wouldn’t have answered it because I wouldn’t have known what to say.

“I wouldn’t have a problem with you answering my phone,” I say, my voice smaller now.

“I know that now, but I didn’t before. So, I wouldn’t have answered your phone without your permission!” He’s getting louder.

“It was Elena!” I say firmly once more, trying to defend myself. For some reason, I feel like those three words should have been enough explanation.

“It doesn’t matter who the fuck it was! I don’t care if it was Elena, GEH, or a fucking ex-sub! You had no right to answer my fucking phone!” he yells. I’m almost feeling the need to draw into myself again. That angry Dom that I don’t like is back… but, no, I’m not doing that!

“Christian, please stop screaming at me!” I bark, louder than I intended. I’m breathing heavily now, and I can feel my blood pressure rising. He glares into my eyes and he wants to say something more, but instead he storms down the stairs. I hear nothing for a moment then I hear the sliding door to the back of the house slam loudly. I put my hands on my chest trying to get air into my lungs. He has never screamed at me before. I really pissed him off. Gail comes scurrying out her room and I jump when she touches me.

“Are you alright, Ana?” I look at her and I can see sympathy in her eye. I just stare for a moment trying to process my thoughts. I don’t know if it was his intention, but I was left feeling very vulnerable after last night’s D/s scene—more vulnerable that I’m accustomed to. I know he didn’t plan it. After all, it was my idea, but when he started yelling at me just now, I started to feel a tightness in my chest—fear or discomfort, I don’t know. It made me feel like the walls were closing in on me, like I didn’t know who I was anymore.

Did I let him take too much of me last night? Right now, when I’m already so fragile with the kidnapping and the Harris nightmares, should I have given him that much of me… so soon? Did I make a ghastly mistake subbing for him last night?

“I… um… yeah, I’m… fine. Do… you know where Chuck is?” I ask, unable to speak without panting.

“I think he’s out in front with Jason,” she says, softly.

“Okay.” My voice sounds like a child. I start to descend the stairs, holding my dress up and paying special attention to each stair so that I don’t tumble over. My knees feel week and I’m uncertain that I will make it.

“Are you sure you’re okay, dear?” I hear Gail ask from behind me.

“Mm-hmm,” I say without looking up, my voice still timid. I nearly sprint out of the door to find Jason and Chuck standing outside in the front of the house. They look up at me and they both frown.

“Ana?” Chuck walks over to me. “Are you okay?” I nod shakily.

“Yes,” I say, sounding unconvincing even to myself. “Do you have any… plans for the afternoon?”

“No, I hadn’t made any plans. Why?” he asks. “What’s wrong, Ana?”

“Um,” I realize that I’m fidgeting terribly.

Don’t put your hand on your forehead.
Don’t put your hand on your forehead.
And for God’s sake, please don’t cry!

“Could you take me somewhere please?”

“Sure, where do you want to go?” Anywhere! Anywhere but here!

“The mall. I… I want to go to the mall,” I say nervously.

“O-kay.” I can tell he’s hesitant, but I can’t stay here right now, and I promised that I wouldn’t run off by myself ever again. I start toward the car and then I stop and turn to Jason.

“You’ll…  tell Christian? I’m with Chuck?” He looks at me uncertainly, then at Chuck, then back at me.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him,” he says, the frown more prominent on his face now. Chuck opens the car door and I climb into the passenger seat. Before he has a chance to close it, Gail comes running out of the house.

“Ana!” I look up to see her charging towards me. Without a word, she hands me my purse and one of my straw hats. Damn—I might need that, huh? I smile a tortured, forced smile at her and Chuck closes my door.

Please hurry, Chuck. Please. Please get me out of here before Christian sees us. I can’t face him right now.

It seems to take forever for him to get around to the driver’s side of the car. I thought I was staring blindly out the window, but apparently, I’m staring at Jason as Gail quickly explains to him what happened. His face changes almost immediately and I can hear him say “Shit” even though the car door is closed, and the window isn’t open. Chuck finally starts the car and takes me away from the scene of the crime.

I take several deep breaths to fend off the adrenalin tears the further we get down the road. This is not a setback. It’s just a little bump in the road. Okay, maybe a medium-sized bump in the road, but still not a setback. I look down at the exquisite platinum and diamond Butterfly on my finger.

“Not a setback,” I whisper to myself.

“What was that?” Chuck asks.

“I don’t want to go to the mall,” I say.

“Um, okay, so where do you want to go?” I’m hurt, and I don’t think I have a right to be, but I am. My heart is beating very fast, and my head is starting to hurt because I wouldn’t let the adrenaline tears fall. I need relief. I need it now.

“I want ice cream,” I say.

“Ice cream?” he says a little incredulously.

“Yes, I want ice cream…  and I don’t want it from the mall…  or a grocery store.”

“Um, okay…” He honks his horn at a passerby and pulls the car over. He leans out of the window and says something to the guy—no doubt asking where we can get some ice cream—and a few moments later we’re on our way. We drive silently up the island for a while, past the airport and into central Anguilla. I can tell we aren’t in Touristville anymore. The area looks more… lived in. We pull up to what I can only describe as a candy store and there are a lot of children out front. I can’t help but smile. It’s called Kel’s and it looks like a really big white house, but it’s a candy store. Chuck opens the door for me and I step out of the car, looking at the local children all posing for a picture. I decide to take one with my phone, but when I search in my purse, I don’t have it. Dammit to hell, if it weren’t for Gail, I wouldn’t even have my purse. As if he were reading my mind, Chuck takes the picture for me on his phone. I smile, and we go inside.

There’s a counter up front with various ice creams and toppings…  a typical ice cream parlor…  except the store is full of candy and goodies! If you can think of a candy, it’s in this store. They even have dispensers where they sell different candies in bulk.

And suddenly, I’m extremely hungry!

“Welcome to Kel’s. What can I do for ya, darlin’?” She’s an older woman with a crotchet tam on her head. I pull out my credit card and put it on the counter—one of the cards that hadn’t been confiscated by Harris. Harris. Why would he come to mind now?

“I see lots and lots of candy, and I want lots and lots of candy…  and ice cream… can you help me?” There’s that five-year-old voice again.

“Of course, we can, darlin’. I’m Marietta—call me Ma. I get you whatever you want. What you like?” Um… a pound of everything? I point to the toppings bar and before I know it, I have bags of nuts and jelly beans and chocolate candies and gummy worms…  I just couldn’t stop. Chuck is taking candy out to the trunk in shopping bags. I pay for my candy, then realize that I haven’t eaten anything.

“You go to de patio, darlin’. I bring you special hot dog and banana split…  on de house! You buy too much candy.” She laughs at me and I can’t help laughing back.

“Thank you, Ma.” I say sincerely. She shoos me out to the patio.

“I be dere in minute. Hot dog for you and your friend.” And she winks at me.

Chuck and I go outside as instructed. Out back there’s a patio with tables and chairs and a swing on the lawn. Of course, they’re having a party—complete with DJ and bouncy house! The locals are a raucous bunch, but in a good way. The DJ is playing loud calypso music with this crazy beat and people are dancing wherever they can find a piece of floor or ground. The children are screaming and frolicking in the bouncy house—shaped like a castle of course—and playing in the massive sand yard as sand box doesn’t quite do it justice. There are more adults on the swings than children and everybody dances in Anguilla, from ages 8 to 80!

Chuck and I take a seat on the patio and Ma comes out shortly with two of her “special” hot dogs—HUGE kosher dogs on huge buns with sautéed onions—and lots of them! This is then covered with shoestring fries and ketchup. “You eat dat,” Ma says. “I bring you banana split, then Ma’s rum punch.”

“Uh oh,” Chuck says.

“Uh oh what?” I ask.

“Rum punch. You’re on the islands, girl. Rum punch here is not for light weights,” he warns. I laugh.

“Whatever it is, I’ll only have one,” I assure him.

“Depending on how they make it, you may only be able to handle one,” he says. I laugh again.

“Point taken,” I say before I tear into the creation that sits before me. Oh my God, it’s delicious! I destroy that hot dog and fries in the most unladylike fashion.

“Damn, Ana! Hungry much?” Chuck says as I finish my hot dog before he finishes his.

“Ravenous,” I say, my mouth still full.

“What the hell are you going to do with all that candy?” he asks, taking another bite of his nearly finished hot dog.

“Eat it,” I say, swallowing my last bite.

“There’s no way you’re going to eat all that candy,” he says. Oh, you clearly haven’t met Distraught Ana. Yeah, she hasn’t been around since I broke up with David. David. Great. Now I’ve got him in my fucking head, too.

“Yes, I can,” I say, my voice subdued. Ma comes back out to bring a drink to the DJ and eyes my empty Styrofoam container.

“Ha! All dat candy and ya eat dat hot dog like dat. How ya keep dat figure, Gul?” she exclaims. I laugh.

“I’m on vacation. I don’t eat like this all the time,” I defend.

“Ah. So, we get you banana split for your vacation,” she says, removing my empty container and grabbing Chuck’s as he finishes his last bite. “Dontcha move now, I be right back.” She disappears back into the candy shop and Chuck sits back in his chair.

“Too much for you, Big Boy?” I say, playfully teasing Chuck.

“No, it was just really good,” he says, rubbing his stomach. I look back out at the dancing crowd of people. They seem to be having the time of their lives with not a worry in the world. I bet you’ll never see this group of people being concerned about one of their children being beaten and burned by the others.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m around food, fun, and festivity and all that keeps coming to mind are the worst things in my life. I don’t get it. I look at the beautiful chocolate and caramel locals again and wonder what could be the biggest concern that they have. The island seems to be all about community. Everyone I’ve met so far has been very friendly, and this woman is feeding me because I bought candy—a lot of it, mind you, but still…

Ma comes back out with two ginormous banana splits and Chuck’s eyes get large.

“Can’t we just split one?” he asks, seeing the size of these outer-worldly sundaes.

“Hell, no! You’ve got your own!” I snap as Ma puts the monstrosity down in front of me. I dig into it immediately. I didn’t even notice when she brought out the two tall glasses of water. I devour the ice cream shamelessly like there’s no bottom to my stomach. It’s has something to do the combination of adrenaline and my metabolism when I get like this that I can eat and not feel a thing. I am slurping the last bit of my ice cream and chugging on my water and Chuck is not even halfway finished with his.

“What’s going on, Ana?” he asks, still working his way through his dessert.

“What?” I say, frowning and wiping my mouth.

“What’s going on? I know you have a healthy appetite, but I’ve only ever seen you eat light food. I just watched you put away enough food to slow down a line-backer and not even blink, not to mention that you came stumbling out of the villa without a purse telling me to take you to the mall.”

Yeah, that does look kind of strange, doesn’t it?

“Then when we get away from the house, you tell me that you don’t want to go to the mall, you want to go for ice cream—and you proceed to buy enough candy for every kid on this island. What’s wrong?”

Oh my God, Chuck, I so don’t want to talk about it.

“I answered Christian’s phone without his permission and he yelled at me,” I spit out.

“Oh, good God, and you made me take you away?” he exclaims.

“It was either that or I was going by myself and I promised I wouldn’t go off by myself anymore,” I chug the rest of my water.

“Well, thank you for not going off by yourself,” he says, pushing away the rest of his ice cream. “I don’t think any of us would have been able to handle the boss if you had disappeared again and I probably would have been hitchhiking back to the States!” I laugh at him.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Chuck?” I ask. He shrugs.

“I date, but I’m not seeing anyone exclusively,” he replies.

“So, no one you have to explain this craziness to, then?” I say. He shakes his head.

“No, not really. There’s one girl I keep around, if you know what I mean… ” Yeah, I know exactly what you mean, “… but there’s nobody serious.”

I nod and look at the people dancing. One girl in particular keeps eyeing Chuck. Oh, thank God this isn’t Christian, or I would be over this banister in a moment. She’s a very beautiful girl—perfect golden skin, lovely eyes and a very attractive face, long and beautifully coiffed dreads. She makes eye-contact with me and shrinks for a moment until I tip my head to Chuck a few times, signaling her to approach him. Her eyes change, and her eyebrows rise. I nod once and gesture towards Chuck again. She stops in her steps and makes her way to the patio. I guess that language is universal no matter where you are.

She comes over to Chuck and takes his hand, flashing a lovely smile which Chuck returns. “Come, you dance with me.” She turns to me. “He dance?” I’m viciously shooing Chuck away.

“He dance! He dance!” Chuck looks over at me. “Go! Go!” Chuck looks at me gratefully and goes off to dance with the caramel beauty. I hadn’t noticed that his sundae had been removed until Ma comes back with two very tall rum punches.

“We don serve dis here. Dis mah special rum punch,” she says as she winks at me.

“He’s not going to drink that. He’s on duty,” I tell her as she sits a drink down for me.

“Oh! No problem. I drink it meself.” And she sits at the table with me, taking a healthy swig of the rum punch. “Mmmm. Puhfect!” she exclaims at her creation. I take a good swallow of the drink. Nice blend of fruits—guava, pineapple, and orange immediately—cherry and orange garnish, darker rum floater but not heavy alcohol. It’s delicious. “What you tink?” Ma asks.

“It’s very good,” I say, sipping it slowly to savor the flavor. I sit back in my seat and watch Chuck dance with the beautiful Anguillan girl. He’s all smiles. I’m a little jealous that he’s having such a good time while I feel like shit.

“Back at home, not happy?” Ma begins, obviously reading my facial expression. I look at her and shake my head. Here on de island not happy, I think to myself.

“There’s just a lot going on,” I answer without having to go into the entire wretched story that is my life.

“I see it in yeh eyes. You got lot o’trouble dere. You angry wit someone?” she asks.

“I’m angry with a lot of people,” I say as Carla and Stephen immediately come to mind. That’s what I need, more unwanted people occupying my mind space.

“No, dis one close to you. Very close. Your haht beat, here,” she points to my neck. “Off, very off.” She looks at Chuck. “It’s not your friend.” I shake my head.

“No, it’s not my friend,” I say, and I hear the sadness in my own voice. “He’s my bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard? What you need bodyguard for?”

“Trouble back in the States. It’s… a long story,” I say.

“Well, Ma tell ya dis. Your hahtbeat. It off, very off.” She points to her neck again. My heart is in my chest, lady, not my neck. “Here, you feel.” She takes my hand and put in on her neck. I feel her pulse. DUH! I guess your heartbeat is there, too. I knew that,my brain just stopped for amoment. Hers is smooth and rhythmic. She puts my hand on my own neck, and my heart is beating at a frantic, uneven pace. How did she know that? Is the damn vein popping out of my neck?

“You fix dat. Every ding else be fine,” she says with a wink.

“How do I fix that?” I say softly, feeling my heart damn near crunch inside my chest.

“Ya know what ta do, Gul! You fix dat!” she says like she’s giving me an order. “Every ding else be fine when you fix dat! You listen to Ma!” she says taking another swig of her drink.

“Are you married, Ma?” I say, nursing my rum punch.

“Ah, me husband die. Him good man. Good, good man. Ma still love he. No udda man for me,” she says with a smile.

“I’m sorry,” I say, touching her hand. She laughs a little.

“Me not! Have long, long life wit me good man. He buy me dis place. I been here many years. He give tree good boys and one bad gul,” she says with a hearty, contagious laugh that makes you feel good inside to hear it. Her voice softens. “I lucky. I have long life wit me good man before dead take him away from me. He give me chil’ren. Dey give me gran chil’ren and great gran chil’ren. I glad about da life me good man give me.” She smiles widely.

“When did he…?” I don’t know if I should ask the question.

“Two years ago, he go to de udda side. He wait for me dere, but I not ready to go yet!” She laughs that contagious laugh again. “I get 55 years before he cross over. Fifty-five years, ha!” she says with a clap.

“How old are you, Ma?” I ask, bottoming my rum punch.

“Ma is 74 years old.” Get outta here!

“Wow, really?” She’s a feisty old lady and still very spry on her toes. “I hope I’m as vibrant as you when I’m your age.”

“You worry too much, chile! You stop doin’ dat. You live long life. And fix dat!” she says, pointing again to my neck. Oh, I wish it were that easy. I sigh heavily and smile sadly at her.

“You need to dance. It make you feel betta. MAHVIN!” Marvin? Who the hell is Marvin. “You dance wit me Mahvin. He good boy. Pick bad ladies, but good boy.” She winks at me. Oh, shit. Is this a good idea? A man that’s the same deliciously dark chocolate color of most of the locals on the island walks over to me. He’s too young to be her son, so I assume he must be one of her grandchildren.

“Mahvin! You come, dance wit da lady, but you don mess wit her now. She got one at home.” She winks at me. I didn’t tell her that! Oh, well…  must be the “fix that.” Don’t mess with me now, Marvin.

“Yes, Ma,” he says as he takes me by the hand and leads me to an empty piece of ground.

“You move like this,” he says in the same accent of his grandmother, but much clearer English than hers. He shows me how the Anguillans dance and I follow right in step. It’s a freeing feeling especially with the lively music they play. There’s a lot of jumping and shouting involved when the music picks up. You change partners several times on the dance floor. I come across Chuck a few times in the rotation. He’s having a wonderful time and I’m glad. At least I can make him not feel like the fifth wheel for one night, and that’s good. I dance for hours, with young men and old and even a few women, until the sun begins to set.

When I finally join Chuck at the table who had thrown in the towel well before me, I’m too tired to dance anymore, but not ready to go back to the villa yet. Is Christian still angry with me? I look down at my ring and thought of the key around his neck. My stomach sinks.

“Come on, Chuck. I want to walk on the beach,” I say as I stand.

“Um, Ana? Shouldn’t that be something you should do with…?” Oh, for Christ’s sake!

“I’m not walking on the beach with you, I’m just walking on the beach, okay? Are you coming or not?” I say as I start to walk towards the beach, leaving him behind me. Come if you’re coming, don’t if you don’t…

The beach is dark, and quiet. The sun is setting way off in the horizon and we’re well past dusk now, though we still have just a little light and no moon yet. I walk along for a while trying to contemplate just how to “fix this” as Ma said. I really didn’t see anything wrong with answering his phone since I knew it was She-Thing, but I was wrong, and I guess I better not ever cross that line again.

Remember what you said the night you left Seattle? About his structured life…  the order and formality? And then you answer his phone without asking…  who in his life do you think has ever done that?

Abso-fucking-lutely no one, I know. Oh God, I just want some peace! My whole life has been turned upside down, too—and not just because I’ve been kidnapped and my selfish, insane “parents” decided to show up, or even because this whole Green Valley wound has been ripped open again. I met and fell in love with Christian Grey, a man who has just as much—if not more—emotional baggage as I do; a man who has spent the last 14 years of his life in completely D/s relationships with no emotion whatsoever and has now fallen in love with me; a man whose idea of romance before a month ago involved whips and canes; a man who expected complete obedience from his women and most likely had his days and nights planned down to the minute…  including the contingencies.

And then you came along and shook up his ordered existence.

Yes, I did, but he shook mine up, too. He made me feel things I didn’t think I would ever feel again and other things I had never felt before. So, I may have rocked his world, but he rocked mine, too…  and after last night, I’m definitely nothing more than an open ball of raw emotions.

I undo the braid that Christian did in my hair and let the wind blow through and massage my scalp. I take off my shoes and leave them with my purse. I walk to the edge of the water and let it wash across my feet. It feels good. Refreshing. I breathe in the fresh salty fragrance of the Caribbean Sea… or is it the Atlantic Ocean? Hell, I don’t know… maybe it’s a mixture of both. Either way, the water is cleansing. For now, we’ll go with the ocean. Deep breaths… and my soul stops hurting so much, my chest isn’t heavy anymore, my head stops hurting. Deep breaths and I start to let go of the weight that I’m feeling and I can’t form a coherent thought except…

… the ocean…

… the ocean…

… the ocean…

I look out over my dark blue savior, no light this far out now but the moon. My feet is sinking into sand and the bottom of my dress is soaked… and I finally start to cry. No, weeping is more like it—I’m weeping from what is left of my fragmented soul. I can’t seem to find any peace. Either it’s starvation or kidnapping or pedophiles or angry boyfriends or selfish mothers and drunken stepfathers or ghosts from my past or nightmares or…

I just stand there, looking out into the dark blue savior, weeping…


Okay, so maybe I got a little carried away, but dammit it is not okay to answer someone else’s phone without their permission. It’s just not, and nothing she can say can change that. But standing there screaming at her would have done no good. If the Pedophile’s intention was to cause a fucking problem, it worked.

I walk up the beach for a little while trying to calm my anger. We’re supposed to be on vacation, not yelling at each other about a fucking phone call. I’m not accustomed to people being in my space this way, and I’m doing my best to accommodate her in every way possible because I love her but come on. Seriously, Anastasia? My cell phone? Teenagers do that shit when they are trying to catch their significant others cheating. Clearly, she knows that I don’t want that child-molesting bitch and I have nothing to hide…  but nobody answers my fucking cell phone. I mean, for fuck’s sake!

I don’t know how much time has passed when I get back to the villa after silently berating Anastasia repeatedly for breaking one of my cardinal fucking rules. If she had been one of my subs pulling that shit, not only would I have worked her over with a cane, but I might have even ended our contract. That is simply unacceptable behavior.

But she’s not one of your subs, Grey. She’s the woman who you claim to love.

do love her, but I’m standing my ground on this one. I’m not as angry as I was before, but she still shouldn’t have answered my phone.

The villa is quiet when I enter. There’s no sound anywhere. I look at my watch. Five thirty. Where is everybody? I look around a bit and find Gail and Jason cuddling in a chaise on the patio outside the downstairs lounge. I slide the door open. I’ll only ask him where Anastasia is, then I will leave them alone.

“Sir.” Jason rises from the chaise and Gail stands behind him.

“Jason, sorry to interrupt…  where’s Anastasia?”

“She had Chuck take her to the mall, sir. She asked me to let you know,” he answers curtly.

“How long has she been gone?” I ask.

“Since just after your… conversation,” Gail says, her voice clearly concerned. I tilt my head at her.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask, looking from Gail to Jason. Gail sighs heavily.

“She was very upset, Mr. Grey. I thought she would fall down the stairs—she walked like a toddler and spoke like one, too. By the time I got outside to her, she was already in the car about to leave with Charles. I had to run to your suite to get her purse. She would have left without it.” I look over at Jason to confirm her story.

“She was like a severely scolded child, sir. When she asked Chuck to take her to the mall, she couldn’t even say a complete sentence in one breath. I knew something was wrong. Anybody could see… she was really shaken up,” Jason says.

“Shaken up?” I ask. “Like afraid?” Oh, God, please don’t let her be afraid of me.

“I don’t know, sir. Bewildered, maybe… like she didn’t know if she was coming or going,” Jason says.

“Shit!” I say as I walk back into the villa, thrusting my hands into my hair. What the fuck have I set into motion now?

A/N: Pictures for this chapter are at except for the but plug and the anatomically correct vagina. There are links to both on the Pinterest though. Just look for the picture of the lip biting for the butt plug, and the Orgasmic Ana (you can’t miss it) for the coochie diagram.

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


3 thoughts on “Paging Dr. Steele: Chapter 55—Fallout

  1. Donna Murray-Hill says:

    omg great chapter can’t believe christian just shouted at her like that just for answering his phone has he never leaves it and it was constantly ringing, wish i was with ana with all that candy reading what she ate even i couldn’t do that, hope christian can save her again as i think she is feeling lost, your a brilliant, terrific writer xxxx

  2. jjgoldmann says:

    He fucked up again!!! Amazing how the natives are in different parts of the world.

  3. Sassybutterfly says:

    Why is it every time Ana does something, everyone is on her side and Christian apologizes and feels like it’s his fault; but every time Christian does something, Ana gets childish, pouty, hurt and gets into her “no one tells me what to do” and starts to lecture him? Yes, she has helped Christian, but she is far more screwed up than he is but she won’t admit anything or own up to what she does. Christian is a Dom and she knows it; she wants to please him, but in her own terms; she doesn’t safe word, she doesn’t tell him to stop, but feels angry and degraded??? I’m on Christian’s side ALL THE WAY!

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