I do not own Fifty Shades Trilogy or the characters. They belong to E. L. James. I am only exercising my right to exploit, abuse, and mangle the characters to MY discretion in MY story in MY interpretation as a fan. I hope you—as a fellow fan—enjoy it, too.
“Exactly what seems to be the problem?” I ask Thomas, leaning back in my seat.
“Oh, you know these stuffed-shirt-types, Grey. They hear things, they want to make sure that they’re going to be covered in the end. You know how it is.” This fucker is trying to play games with me.
“What, pray tell, are they hearing?” I’m not biting.
“This and that,” he says, being coy and intentionally irritating. He’s not going to budge any more than I am. Fine, have it your way.
“Well, Thomas, I have a bit of advice for you and those ‘stuffed-shirt-types’ as you refer to them. If you’re going to take a chance on blowing a multi-billion-dollar deal based on hearing ‘this and that,’ I would strongly suggest that you consider the source—not only where they came from, but where they are trying to go and what they stand to gain… or lose. I’m a self-made billionaire and I got here in less than 10 years, on my own, before I reached my 30th birthday. I’ve played with some pretty big fish in my day—bigger fish than Feinstein. I’ve won a few and I’ve lost a few, but I certainly don’t like to be toyed with. I’ve put countless man-hours into this deal and more money and effort than I would like to see go to waste because of hearsay. So you let your ‘stuff-shirt-types’ know that I can guarantee that they will lose more out of this than I will if they pull out now based on gossip or the whisperings of someone who thinks he knows what he’s talking about.”
“Those are pretty big words for a man who has no idea what information we have,” he says with confidence.
“I don’t need to know what you have,” I respond. “All I need to know is what I have. If all front doors are squeaky clean, then no one has anything to worry about, do they?” Thomas falls silent. I’ve done this too long, played chess with the best of them and poker with the rest. I know that no one’s front door is squeaky clean, not even mine. However, not knowing what the other man has on you is a terrifying thought. I know that Thomas is pondering this thought. He won’t know that I’m pondering it as well.
“I’ll have another chat with the board,” he says non-committal.
“You do that,” I say impassively. “As a courtesy, I will tell you to tell the board to wait a week before they make any decisions and I guarantee that the ‘this and that’ floating to their ears will change. By that time, I won’t be as amiable as I am right now.”
“Grey, do you realize you don’t have any room to negotiate right now? I may have crippling information on your organization from key parties on the inside and you’re sitting here trying to play ‘King of the Mountain.” Oh, he’s a cocky fucker. Right now, he can be, but I won’t let him know that.
“In order for me to play with you, we have to be on the same mountain. I’m on Everest—you’re still on the bunny slopes. You say that you have key information from someone inside my organization. First of all, you have to know that if I let go of any key parties, I change the structure of everything inside my company. Second, even the janitors here sign non-disclosure agreements, so the key individuals all sign non-compete clauses. Any information that you think you could possibly get and use against me is privileged. I would bury you, your stuffed-shirts, and whatever assholes you’re talking to so deep in lawsuits that no company in America would dare come near you for fear of falling into the vortex that will be left by what was once known as Feinstein LTD. More importantly, Thomas, you should know by my reputation that Christian Grey is the last man you want as an enemy. I hold grudges for a long time, and I make it my special project and mission in life to cause particular and intense misery to those who try to fuck me over.”
The line is silent for a while and without knowing, he just confirmed my suspicions.
“Like I said, Mr. Grey, I’ll speak with the board.”
“No need,” I say, coolly. “I know I just did.” I hear a couple of almost silent gasps on the other line. You don’t toy with a master, but I know that this deal is still hanging on by a very thin thread. “Gentlemen, I’m not a patient man. You all know that I have invested nearly a year of time, energy, and resources in this deal and I don’t play games with my money. When I fire someone, you can rest assured that there’s a damn good reason for it, so you should be very careful where you listen to ‘this and that.’ As a courtesy, I won’t hold this little attempt at a power play against you if we can agree to proceed as planned before certain sniveling little weasels slithered their way into your office.” I pause for a moment before I deal the final blow.
“Oh, and please, assuming that they are not listening to me right now, tell those key individuals that I have lovely plans for them that I am about to implement right now.” More quiet gasps on the other line alerts me that members of my ex-legal team are part of this conference call. “Good day, Gentlemen.” I end the call abruptly and have to control myself from throwing the phone across the room. These idiots really think that they can try to screw me out of my company and then go to the competition and try bring me down when I fire their asses? They are going to burn. I’m going to make such a fucking example out of them that when I’m done with them, they are going to wish they were dead. While I’m sitting at my desk for several minutes attempting and failing to calm my raging temper, my blackberry rings.
“Welch!” I say, after looking at my phone.
“You’re a scary man sometimes,” he says into the phone.
“Who is it?” I don’t have time for games. I’m so angry and wound so fucking tight that I could snap right now.
“Jones and Webber. You’re right. It wasn’t Abrahms.” I nod.
“Good. Did they see you?”
“Of course, they did—me and three other members of the security team. Jones turned so white, he was almost blue.”
“Good. They know that I’m on to them, even before they saw you. They’re probably pissing themselves wondering what’s about to happen. I can’t for the life of me figure out why they would want to cross me. They’ve seen first hand how I can destroy people and they haven’t even seen my worst,” I say shaking my head.
“What do you want to do?”
Covert surveillance right now. I’ve got plans for those boys.”
“Yes, Sir.” He ends the call. I’m so angry that I’m shaking. I hate betrayal. Of all things in the world that you could do to me, betrayal is the worst. These men were my trusted counsel for years. They knew the ins and outs of my business like no one else. I had to change almost the entire format when I let them go. Now, they are saying God only knows what to one of the companies that I one day plan to acquire—though they don’t know it yet. Feinstein has one of the largest market shares of raw materials in the Pacific Northwest—a small acquisition in the big scheme of things but coupled with my production and manufacturing capabilities, Feinstein could be one of the most lucrative acquisitions of my career to date! It’s like coupling the company that makes the cardboard cups and plastic tops for soft drinks in fast food restaurants across the world with the company that manufactures the straws. Both of them are okay on their own, but together, they become a powerhouse.
If these fuckers have caused my powerhouse to crumble, I’m going to make them regret it for years and years to come.
I try just about everything to loosen up for the rest of the afternoon. I comb over spreadsheets and contracts—tedious things to occupy my mind. I run through the qualifications with the members of my legal staff to see if any of them can move up to senior attorneys on the staff. I even go to the company gym and do several miles on the treadmill. Nothing is working. If anything, I’ve worked myself into more of a tizzy than I was when I finished with Thomas. I sit at my desk, trembling inside with anger and frustration. I know what I need. I know what I need to do. I look at my watch—it’s 4:07pm. I pull out my blackberry and text Butterfly.
**I need you. Tonight. In the Playroom. Be showered, ready, and waiting at 8pm. Tonight’s events will be televised. **
I burst into Escala promptly at 8:00. I had to force myself not to come back sooner or I would have surely fucked her on sight. That would have done nothing but satisfy my dick, not my intense need to regain control.
“Sir, are you going to be okay?” Jason asks. It must be worse than I thought. I nod.
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Ana is waiting for me.” Jason always has the ability to remain impassive, but his facial expression clearly tells me that he’s concerned even though it has only changed infinitesimally.
“I never ask this, Boss, but is Ana going to be okay?” Oh yeah, it is worse than I thought. I glare at him and he glares right back. He knows what I have done to women in my Playroom and he’s making it extremely clear that he will not allow me to hurt Ana. I take a deep breath before I speak.
“Jason, I’m going to try to remember that we are friends and that you didn’t just insinuate that I am going to take my anger out on Anastasia.” I say, my voice low.
“I won’t apologize,” he says without pausing. “She’s up there in that room and I know she is. I know what you’ve done to women in that room when you’ve had your wits about you. Now, you’re so far on the edge that your hands are trembling. So while it’s none of my business what you two get up to in there, as your friend I’m going to remind you that that is the woman who you love and not one of those bimbots that you used to bring here that could take whatever you were dishing out. She loves you and she’ll do anything for you, and you need to remember that while you’re releasing your frustrations.” He glares at me for a few moments, then turns to leave. “I’ll be in my room, Sir,” he says while walking away.
That fucking asshole… I hate it when he’s right.
I go to my study and pour two fingers of Bourbon to calm my nerves. I need Ana in that Playroom in the worst way, but he’s right. I do need to control my emotions and not take today’s failure out on her the way I used to do my subs. I sit for a moment, knowing that she is in position and rethinking my strategy to release my tension.
I remove my jacket, tie, socks and shoes, and I unbutton a few buttons on my shirt before I enter the Playroom. She is sitting on the bed wearing a black nightie so sheer that she might as well be wearing nothing. Her hair is pulled back off of her face into a slick ponytail. It looks like it has gotten longer, or maybe it’s a hairpiece. Maybe she just hasn’t worn it in a ponytail in ages, I don’t know, but even draped over her shoulders, the ends cascade over her breast and tickle the top of her stomach. At that moment, I know exactly what I want to do to her.
“Stand,” I command after I walk over to her. She is on her feet immediately. I run my fingers over the length of her ponytail. It’s soft and it feels real. “Is this you?”
“Yes, Sir,” she says, just above a whisper. Her voice spurns heat in me almost immediately and I know that in order to maintain control, I cannot allow her to speak… at all!
I brush her ponytail over her shoulder so that it falls down her back. Her head is bowed like a good little submissive, allowing me to wrap her ponytail once around my hand and, with lightning speed, pull her head back so that her eyes meet mine. She gasps loudly at the force.
“Good,” I growl. A flash of something goes across her face. Fear, I think. I have to admit, I want a little of that, but not a lot. “I have plans for you tonight, Mrs. Grey,” I say. Her eyes widen a bit and her reaction tells me that she knows I’ve been drinking.
“Just one,” I assure her. “I want to be completely coherent for what I have in mind.” From the look on her face, that doesn’t seem to comfort her much. No matter. Like I said, I want a little fear.
I go to the console inside the wall and press the necessary controls. All of the cameras are activated and the two previously hidden monitors come to life. Yes… I want to see tonight’s action from all angles. I wave my hand in front of the iPod dock and pick a few selections that will serve as our soundtrack. I’m not a real Madonna fan, but I choose the very few songs of hers that I have in my repertoire for tonight’s interlude—diverse, to say the least. The choices will confuse Mrs. Grey a bit… sensual, sad, some with a beat and some a bit touchy-feely. Yeah, I may be enjoying this a bit too much already, but the anticipation and the anxiety is palpable and the Dom in me is ready and anxious. Even Greystone has taken the night off and Dom Dick has taken his place.
Poor Little Butterfly.
I go into the last drawer of my chest and pull out my custom creation that I had made specifically for this moment, even though I didn’t know it at the time. Madonna sings about the uselessness of words as I move deliberately back over to her, keeping my little surprise out of sight. I’m glad she wore this flimsy little nightie. It’s easy to get rid of. I brush the straps off of her shoulders and let it slide down her arms and body to the floor. Now, here comes one of my favorite part… trussing her up.
I now reveal my little surprise, a custom, metal-boned underbust leather corset. It looks like a medieval torture device with the buckles and studs in the front and the loops built into the back, but it’s anything but that. Actually, I had it made so that she is comfortable during suspension. I wrap it around her body, securing each buckle tightly in front of her body. I’m a little rougher than I have to be, but I know that I’m not hurting her… just intimidating her a bit.
When I am done strapping her into the corset, I examine her lovely breasts. The corset has them pushed up and presented in a lovely fashion. I cup them underneath and run each thumb across her nipple. She whimpers.
“Not a sound, Anastasia. Unless I say you can speak, you can only nod, shake your head, or use your safeword. Are we clear?” A slight shiver goes through her and I don’t know if it’s from my words or my tone of voice. She timidly nods that she understands. “Good.” I go over to the chest again and remove several more items that I will need for tonight. I go back over to her and apply leather cuffs to her wrists and ankles.
“Lie flat on the bed, face down, hands next to your head,” I instruct her. She does as I command and I stand next to the bed. “I’m going to suspend you now, Anastasia.” She gasps again. I’ve never suspended her, but I have dreamed about it over and over. Now, I’m going to fucking do it. “I said no sound. Do you have a problem with that instruction, Mrs. Grey?” I ask, my voice harsh. Her body sinks down into the bed—as if it could—and she shakes her head resignedly. I think I may have actually hurt her feelings. I regret it if I did, but I won’t apologize for it. I’m the Dom and she has to follow my commands now. “I will punish you if you fail to follow instruction again, are we clear?” She nods and I can barely hear her breathing.
I hook the chains from the roof of the bed into the rings at the top, bottom, and middle of the custom corset by heavy-duty pear hooks. Once they are secured, I attach her ankle cuffs to chains that attach to each of the bed posts. I spread her legs as far as the chains will let them go without being painful. Her pretty little pink pussy is already on full display and smiling for the camera. I then attach her wrist cuffs to the loops in the back of the corset. Then I crank the winch so that her beautiful body is bound and suspended about two and a half feet above the Playroom bed. She looks fucking glorious! Her ponytail is hanging over her shoulder and her head is hanging down. Her breathing is more erratic than I have ever heard. I don’t know if she’s turned on or afraid—hopefully a bit of both.
“Are you uncomfortable, Mrs. Grey?” I ask, my voice honey-smooth but still commanding. “You may speak.”
“No, Sir,” she says, her voice several octaves higher than normal. She is afraid. That turns me on a bit, but I won’t let her stay that way.
“What are your safe words?”
“Bells and whistles,” she squeaks. I think she instinctively knows that she won’t be needing the third one.
“Good girl,” I say as I crawl to the foot of the bed and between her legs. After shedding my shirt and T-shirt, I bury my face into that beautiful wet valley that has been calling my name. She stifles a gasp as I feast on her glorious, juicy fruit, groaning each time her juices grace my tongue. Her arousal is immediate and she doesn’t bother trying to stop her orgasm since she is concentrating on not making a sound. She trembles so hard through her climax that the chains attached to the bed rattle. Having to hold in an orgasmic cry intensifies the orgasm and I plan to make her insane tonight.
As I devour the last of her juices drawing out her aftershocks, Madonna’s words remind me that there is satisfaction in pain. Dom Dick twitches at the thought. I shed my pants and boxer briefs then lower the winch a little. I slide underneath her convulsing body, brushing my hardness against every part of her softness, until my face reaches hers. She is puffing madly to catch her breath and I thrust my tongue into her mouth so that she can taste her own juices.
“You are going to come…” I kiss her again, licking the inside of her mouth just once, “over…” kiss, “and over…” kiss, “and over again.” Kiss, kiss. “And I am going to come…” kiss, “over…” kiss, “and over…” kiss, “and over again.” Kiss, kiss. “When you can’t take anymore, use your first safeword. What is your first safeword again?”
“Bells!” she pants, wildly.
“Bells, very good. If I am hurting you and you want me to stop what I am doing immediately, use your second safeword. What is your second safeword?”
“Whistles!” she pants again.
“Whistles, very good. Now what I am about to do to you means you won’t be able to safeword. Your mouth will be full,” I smirk at her devilishly. “So you will hold this.” I reach behind her and put a ball in her hand. “If you drop the ball, I will know to stop immediately. Do you understand? You may speak.”
“Yes Sir,” she breathes. I nod.
“Good.” I kiss her once more and then slide to the top of the bed. This is another thing I have wanted to do to her since the first time she smart-mouthed me in the community center. I prop myself up on several pillows and bring my dick to her face.
“Open your mouth,” I command her. She opens her mouth and I adjust myself comfortably before inserting the head between her lips.
“Suck, gently,” I tell her and she applies the slightest suction to my head. “More,” I tell her and her lips and mouth tighten a bit. “Yesss,” I hiss. “Yes, that’s it. Right there.” I lean back onto the pillows and cup her face with my hands. I have wanted her like this for so long, but I never thought that she was ready. Now, I have her hanging over my Playroom bed, trussed up and helpless, with her mouth wrapped around my dick… and the cameras are rolling. The thought alone makes me want to blow, but I have waited too long for this to let it end too quickly.
A more sensual beat begins to play as I stroke into her mouth, only halfway, allowing myself to concentrate on the feeling of the roughness of her tongue on the underside of my dick. Fuck, it feels so good, holding her steady while I stroke in and out, in and out, in and out. Oh God, I use my control tactics to prolong this feeling without coming too soon. It looks glorious and feels magnificent! I hope the camera at the head of the bed is getting this angle because I will want to relive it over and over again. I adjust my stroke so that I hit the walls of her mouth.
The head rubs against the insides of her cheeks. I can feel it against my hand. I turn her head a bit so that it hits harder against her cheek. Fuck! Fuck! It feels so good that I’m panting trying not to come yet. I keep stroking, now trembling because I want to come so bad, but I won’t. It’s too damn good to end it now. I watch the ball in her hand. She’s grasping it tightly with no intention of letting go. Good, because I want to go deeper. I straighten her head and do just that. I grab her ponytail and while steadying myself on the bed with my other hand, I push her head slowly down my length.
“Shiiittt!” I growl as she takes me all the way to the base and nearly makes me shoot my load. I hold her there while I breathe deeply, my head back in ecstasy as I am fighting for all I’m worth not to come. I have wanted this so badly—to have her suspended and helpless, to fuck her mouth until I can’t take it anymore—the anticipation was so intense that the act is getting to be too much for me. To top it all off, we’re recording it! I feel Dom Dick throb in her mouth with glee and I know that he just spit a bit down her throat. Not yet, Man, you’ve got to hold on for just a little while longer.
I look down at her hand—still holding the ball. Good. I wrap her ponytail around my hand and guide her slowly up and down my dick while I thrust in and out of her mouth. Each time the head slides out of her throat, the muscles tighten. I don’t know if it’s reflex or if she’s doing it on purpose, but I like it! I test my limits to the very end, fucking her throat for a few long moments before I am panting again, trying not to come. I relax and pull my dick halfway out of her mouth.
“Use your feet against the bedposts and swing,” I instruct her. Like a good little student, she swings, and her mouth slides up and down my dick while I sit on the bed.
“Fuck!” I groan as I match her swing, fucking her mouth exquisitely and slowly, bringing me painfully to the brink of my pleasure. Leaning back on both hands, I throw my head back again as I absorb the delight of her hot lips wrapping around my purple, angry dick, grinding slowly into her mouth while her tongue edges my frenulum. I moan in ecstasy, not recognizing my own voice but not caring one bit. It long now. I look down at her swinging back and forth, coating my dick with her saliva, some of which is sliding down my dick to my balls.
I look at her hand and the ball is still there, gripped tightly between her delicate fingers.
“Listen… to me…” I’m trying to talk between each of her delicious swings and my matching strokes. “When I… tell you to… I want… you to stop… swinging… and hold… the head… in your mouth.” Now I keep still and let her swing because I’m about to come. Fuck, it’s hard to do! My thighs are shaking, my legs are shaking, my feet are clenching and my balls are tight as fuck!
“S-stop!” I almost missed it. She stops stroking and holds my head tight in her mouth. Holy fireballs and shitsticks from Hades! My eyes are locked on my purple dick, jumping violently with each squirt of my orgasm into her mouth. Fuck, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen! I’ve always felt it, but never watched it. I’ve watched the cum squirt out but usually I or someone else was holding it. Watching it jerk and throb and grow while I come wildly inside of her mouth, it’s almost more than I can bear. I force myself to keep my eyes open and watch it while it dances, shiny and purple and veiny, holding me hostage with debilitating pleasure.
“Oh my… God…” I choke as this orgasm goes on and on, spurned to continue by the visual assault that I am withstanding. When it seems like it might wane, I reach down to my balls and rub, gripping them slightly and massaging them with the saliva that ran out of her mouth. It sends another wave of pleasure through me, not a full-blown orgasm, but insane aftershocks intensified by the sensitivity of my head still clamped inside her mouth.
When Dom Dick has finally tapped out for this round, I command her to release and fall back on the pillows in breathless bliss. Fucking hell, that was everything that I hoped it would be and more! Time to move on to some more fun!
Once I catch my breath, I move off of the bed. “Well done, Mrs. Grey,” I commend her. “I’m not down for the count yet, but I think I need to recuperate a bit, which means that now I need to concentrate on you.” I take the ball from her hand. “You won’t be needing this anymore.” I go back to my chest and retrieve my next toys.
I walk around to her perfect, round ass, hoisted up and presented to me. I know that the “back end” camera has captured several minutes of this beautiful and flawless creation and I can’t wait to see the playback of it swaying back and forth while she’s swinging her mouth onto my dick. I caress it gently, then firmly, squeezing her flesh between my fingers. She knows well what’s coming next and I hear her breathing change in an effort to calm herself.
Not many, Little One, just a few.
The first strike comes as a surprise even though she has prepared herself. She jumps and gasps loudly as the straps of the flogger wrap around her hips before I pull it over her ass. I strike her again, a little lower this time and she jumps again. She’s panting now, trying to absorb the blows. Before she has a chance to recover from the last, I strike again. An involuntary whimper escapes her mouth before she presses her lips together tightly and holds her breath. I strike her a few more times to bring the pinkness to her skin, then shower her behind with light whispers of the tips to make sure it stays that way. She wriggles in attempt to escape the assault, but it’s of no use. When I finally stop, she releases the breath that she was holding and drops her head.
I oil her ass a little to illuminate the pinkness and she is so gorgeous all bound up and at my mercy that I can’t resist. I part her tender cheeks and allow my tongue to explore her rosette. She gasps again as her anus contracts and releases in response to my erotic massage. Her breathing is erratic, panting, and her hands are flexing and stretching while grasping at nothing. I extend my tongue down to the hole of her core, tasting her juices there, before bringing it back up to asshole and teasing it mercilessly. She lets out a whispered “Ah,” almost inaudible, and I slap her ass again for her malfeasance. Oh yes, she’s so ready.
“Fever!” Madonna breathes. You got that right.
Lubricating her hole a little more, I massage her ass with the first ball of my toy. She tightens immediately in anticipation and I gently and slowly push the first ball into her ass. She breathes through the sensation, her whole body responding to that foreign object now invading her. Once her breathing has calmed a bit, I gently push the second ball into her. This invasion is not as brutal as the first, and she immediately acclimates to it. I push it further into her, watching her responses and feeling a twitch in Dom Dick as her hole contracts and releases around the metal. I let it go and allow it lay against her hands so that she can feel what it is. She tentatively strokes the metal with her fingertips and once she feels the ring at the top, she knows that it’s an anal hook with two balls at the end.
I release her wrists from behind her back and lower the suspension bar in front of her. I attach her wrist cuffs to the outer rings of the bar so that her arms are stretched out a bit. I think I hear a slight sigh of relief at her being able to straighten her arms. I stand back and observe my creation. My dick is getting harder and harder.
“Oh, Mrs. Grey, I can’t wait for you to see how beautiful you look,” I say walking around the bed and taking in the view from all angles. “You will surely be as turned on as I am right now.” I get to the front of her again and see her nipples are two extremely pink pebbles—ruby pink, almost red. Should I go for nipple clamps? No, I’ll have more fun torturing them mercilessly with my mouth. I slide under her body again, lowered just enough for me to fit underneath her.
“Hi,” I say looking up into her anxious and aroused blue eyes. “My God, you are so beautiful.” I reach around her and pull the hook, pushing it further inside of her and pulling it out just to the first ball as her body starts to swing again. She gasps again and closes her eyes in ecstasy. Oh yes, this is wonderful! I slide my free hand between her folds and play in the moisture that I know I will find there. Her mouth opens and she begins to pant. Finally, I envelop one of her aching nipples between my lips to tease and suck it relentlessly. In moments I start to feel the sheen of sweat on her skin. I move to the other breast with my lips and replace my fingers with the head of my shaft, rolling it around her clitoris, her lips, and the outside of her entrance.
Fuck, she feels good!
Her breathing becomes hard and rhythmic and right when she’s at that point of no return, I plunge into her, grabbing the hook and pulling up hard while thrusting my tongue into her already open mouth and exploring it madly. A tight, short squeak comes from her throat as her muscles grip my dick and pull it in while she shakes uncontrollably through her orgasm. Oh, God, this is so hot, but I knew it would be. She is breathless and limp when I release her mouth.
“I’m going to mark you,” I growl through my pleasure as I thrust into her incredible wetness, still convulsing through her orgasm and aftershocks. “Nod if you understand.”
She nods wildly while she’s still panting through the vibrations and I immediately sink my teeth into the fleshy meat above her breast. She gasps and chokes out a breath and I fuck her madly and deeply, one hand pulling on the hook and massaging her ass in and out while the other holds one of the cheeks open for better penetration. I make the mistake of looking at the monitor above my head and see the view from behind—my hard dick going in and out of her hot, wet pussy; the vein underneath it bulging and pulsing as I disappear inside of her and reappear with each feverish stroke; my hand gripping her ass hard and pulling it open revealing the first ball slightly pulling on the inside of her asshole. I push the hook in again and she gasps—the sight and the sound spurns me on which is why I told her to keep quiet.
“Aw, fuck!” I groan, pumping into her harder, deeper, and only slightly faster. My mouth clamps onto more flesh in front of me, I don’t know what it is—tit, chest, shoulder, neck—I’ve covered it all by now. She is panting and I know that she is about to come again, but I can’t hold on anymore. I feel the fountain release inside of her, my eyes closed tightly and my lips sucking madly on her neck.
“God… dammit!” I groan loudly as my dick pulsates madly inside of her. As hard as it is, I control it, not allowing myself to release completely because I still want to fuck her ass. I grunt through the pain of a self-ruined orgasm, and I almost don’t notice that she is coming undone again on top of me.
“You’re coming?” I say seductively, forgetting my pain and pressing into her again, slow and deep. She nods wildly, holding her breath through her orgasm. “Good girl,” I encourage while moving the hook in and out of her ass. When she finally releases her breath and starts to pant, my eyes catch the monitor from the camera behind us once more. Her muscles are squeezing the result of our combined orgasm out of her core and down my still-hard shaft. Oh shit, that’s so fucking hot! I push into her a few more times, very slowly, watching the white cream slide out of her and down my dick settling on my balls. I let go of the hook and grab her ass with both hands, guiding her hips to press down and rise up, enjoying the show of her riding me, arousing me again, and squeezing out my semen.
“Oh, Baby, you’re going to love this,” I say as my nature, which hasn’t fully fallen, starts to rise again.
Fucking hell! I don’t know how much more of this I can take! Who came up with this idea? Hang a woman from the ceiling, bind her hands and feet and fuck her until she can’t breathe… oh, and don’t allow her to scream. I don’t know if this is the best of times or the worst of times! I am having some of the most mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasms that I have ever had, and so is he. He’s absolutely wild and insatiable—but my head’s going to explode in a minute if I’m not allowed to scream. By the way, being suspended is not exactly the most secure feeling in the world, but so far it seems pretty sturdy as I haven’t fallen yet, and the fact that he is able to fuck me freely from every direction… aidez-moi, tel plaisir!
And this music! What’s with this music? I can understand Justify My Love and Erotica, but Live to Tell? I can even understand the beat of Spanish Eyes. Hell, he fucked me slow and deep to the rhythm of that one, and if I’m honest, Live to Tell will have a whole new place in my heart when I remember the taste of him in my mouth, but damn! I didn’t even know that he liked Madonna!
We have both come for the… third time? Fourth time? I’ve lost count. He withdraws from me and I get a glimpse of his erection—still perfectly hard. What the fuck? He gently removes the ball hook from my ass and I groan inwardly. My God, that’s a wonderful invention! I swear it felt like I was being fucked from both directions. It was outstanding! He disappears back over to his magical chest and comes back with yet another toy. I can’t see what is it, but he starts strapping something else around my legs. The next thing I know, he’s inserting a dildo into me.
Fuck, are you serious?
Good grief, it feels just like him. It’s veiny and soft, but hard, only this one has a more prominent curve to it. Fuck, did he have his dick molded and turned into a damn dildo? This thing is some sort of reverse strap-on and he’s got it harnessed to both of my legs and around my ass somehow. Now the real fun begins.
I hear a click and the damn thing starts to vibrate, inside of me and against my clit. Oh, heaven help me. I immediately start to shake with the sensation. I’m still very sensitive from my last orgasm and this thing digs into me—literally—and immediately finds my pleasure center, making me rise all back over again. It’s a slow incline, but I feel it, and from his position behind me, I know that he’s going to fuck me up the ass.
And what the fuck is playing now? Nobody’s Perfect? What the fuck?
The picture on the monitor dead ahead gives me full view of my Dom behind me. He is looking down at my ass and stroking lube onto his dick. He pleasures himself for a while as he reaches between my legs and pushes the dildo further into me then pulls it out slightly, repeating this process over and over and watching my reaction. Oh, God, he finds new ways to sexually torture me every day and this time, I am certain that I will expire if he pushes that magnificent dick into my ass while fucking me with this exquisite dildo.
I don’t have to wait long for him to test that theory.
He slides in with ease though it is still a tight fit. The anal hook loosened the grip a bit. He pushes in further and further, groaning deep in his chest with each movement. The music and singing swells as he sinks into me and withdraws—deliciously and slowly.
“This ass, this ass, my God, Anastasia, this ass!” he growls as moves slowly and deliberately, licking his lips and grasping the chains that hold the harness/corset to the top of the bed. As he moves, I feel it. Fuck, I feel it! He used that fucking heating lube again. I’m going to die. I’m fucking going to die.
“Oh, Baby, goddamn!” His strokes are getting wilder, deeper, harder. He is plunging into me, using the chains to pull me back hard onto his pelvis. The torture is exquisite and the pleasure is insane. No more… please, I can’t take it.
Stop watching the monitor!
I can’t! I’m trying, but I can’t!
My Dom looks up and notices that I can see what he sees. “Feel me, Baby,” he groans. “Watch me disappear into your beautiful ass. It feels as good as it looks.”
Oh yes! God, yes, it does!
The song has changed into a deep, slow base beat and Madonna is speaking French. It’s freaky and sensual and spurning me on. He moves his hands around my waist and thrusts, trying to get a better grip but the corset slips from his oily fingers. Finally frustrated, he grabs my hips and starts to pump furiously into me.
Fuck me, Sir! Fuck me!
He moves his hand and I hear another click. The vibrating increases. I swallow my groan and breathe out hard as he pushes me, harder and higher, beads of sweat now forming on his forehead, chest, and arms.
Shut the fuck up! If I can’t scream, you can’t either.
Fuck you! I can’t take this anymore!
“Yes! Fuck, yes!” he exclaims as he digs himself deeper into that place where no one is allowed but him. Over and over… deeper and deeper… he’s relentless!
Oh yes, Sir! Please, Sir! More, Sir, more!
I drop my head from pure exhaustion, my body wracked and pulled to its limits. The pleasure has complete control of me and I am helpless and useless. Even if I weren’t bound by this excellent contraption, I could do nothing right now.
“Watch!” he grunts as he grabs my hair and pulls my head upright so that I can see the monitor. His beautiful, hard penis going in an out of my ass—fuck! I try not to gasp at the delicious sight, but I can’t stop the drool that slips from my lips. It looks so dirty and it feels so decadent. I feel the tightening in my muscles. I can’t stop it.
“Oh, fuck, Ana!” He feels it too. He is riding me hard, pulling me back against him by my hair, painfully crashing me onto his dick until my hair tie suddenly slips out of my hair and he loses his grip. I drop my head and my hair cascades around my face while I try to withstand his assault, brutal and lustful and hot. He grabs the harness on either side of my hips and uses it to thrust into me deeper and harder. All the time, this insane fucking life-like vibrator is tormenting my pussy inside and out and now he’s pulling it into me, against me, mercilessly—oh God, help me!
He is fucking my ass with abandon and that heating lube is about to cause an explosion. He releases my wrists from the bar holding them in front of me and pulls them to my sides. Somehow he has my wrists pinned to my hips and the harness in his hands at the same time, pulling me against his dick by my wrists and the harness.
I look up at the monitor and see him thrusting feverishly into my ass. He head is thrown back and his mouth is hanging open, his copper tresses wet with sweat and sticking to his face. He is mindlessly chasing his orgasm while he is fucking my ass and somehow masterfully fucking my pussy with this amazing vibrating dildo at the same time. Again, I feel like I’m being fucked by two men simultaneously. It’s insane! It looks glorious! It feels glorious! My own hair is sticking to my face with each of his ardent strokes, and after a few more thrusts, I break the cardinal rule.
I groan loudly from my chest as this orgasm rips through my ass and my pussy, searing me from the inside out. I stiffen and cry and tremble, trying not to make another sound while I’m gasping for breath. He curses several times as he thrusts into me hard and deep then stills inside of me, holding me against him and panting wildly.
I am coughing and wheezing, not aware of what he is doing at all, trying to catch my breath and not expire. I’m dizzy and my head hurts. I don’t know where he got this corset, but this fucker is amazing! It’s the only thing preventing a faceplant onto the Playroom mattress at this moment. I’m still coughing for air when Christian appears in my face with a glass of water and a straw. I take long drags from the straw, nearly emptying the glass and only stopping to breathe. I drop my head again out of pure exhaustion… surrender… and I feel myself being lowered to the bed.
Leave me here. I can sleep right here.
He begins to undo the chains and the cuffs. I don’t know how long I was up there, but my legs hurt like hell. I don’t whimper or complain. Just let me sleep…
The dildo and harness have magically disappeared, but he is now unhooking the corset. I gasp as it releases me. Another song begins to play… a haunting melody, but I’ve never heard it before. Christian is gone for a moment, but is back in no time with massage oil and Arnica cream. I moan gratefully as he coats his hands with warm oil and starts with my toes that were pressed against the bedposts. My body sinks into the relief that his hands elicit as they travel over my feet and meticulously up my calves, my painful thighs…
I awake cloaked in exquisite warmth, oozing the aches and pains out of me. Christian has moved us from the Playroom to our bedroom. I am in the bath, a waterproof pillow behind me as Christian washes my hair from his position outside of the bathtub.
I look over at him and see a combination of expressions on his face.
“You were remarkable tonight,” he says softly, cupping his hand and filling it with water to pour over my hair and body. He’s taking care of me… like a treasured submissive—but there’s something else there. Uncertainty. He only makes eye-contact with me briefly, and I know that there’s a measure of guilt in what he’s feeling as he continues to caress me.
“It was…” I can hardly speak, comfort and exhaustion taking me over, “…extraordinary,” I breathe. He raises his eyes to me.
“Really?” he asks, his uncertainty apparent now. “I’ve always wanted to suspend you, but I think I went to far.” I open my eyes silently asking him why he feels that way. It was a Playroom scene and I didn’t safeword. It was grueling, but I enjoyed it very much. “You have stripes in your skin from the boned corset. I don’t know if it will bruise.” I nod.
“Next time, we have to put something next to my body underneath it,” I say softly, closing my eyes and not giving it a second thought. I open my eyes at the silence and lack of movement to see Christian gazing at me.
“Next time?” he asks. I turn my head to him.
“Yes, next time,” I say with as much strength as I can muster. “You can’t introduce me to something like that and then tell me that I can never have it again.” I infuse as much regret in my voice as I can, eliciting a relieved smile from him. “Now get your ass in this tub. This feels weird.”
Already naked, he inserts himself in the tub behind me, wrapping his legs around me and cradling me in his arms. He kisses my hair, my cheek, and my neck over and over.
“You are so perfect for me,” is the last thing I hear before I drift off again.
It’s nearly noon when I emerge the next day. Luckily I had no plans for today or they would have been shot to hell. I normally would have gone down to Helping Hands today to see what kind of progress was going on with the remodel, but I had already decided to stay home and make sure that all loose ends were tied up for the wedding.
Two weeks—17 days to be exact—I will officially be Mrs. Grey. I think Christian is trying to get me accustomed to the concept because he’s been calling me “Mrs. Grey” all week. Last night… oh, last night… I can’t even describe the way that he made me feel. I’m sore in lots of places, but the ache reminds me of the lust, passion, and pleasure I endured for I don’t know how long in the Playroom. How many times did I come? Did I pass out at some point? Jesus, I was dizzy with orgasms. They were so damn powerful. After the fact, I understand the purpose for the songs. They were a fucking mind trip! Oh, God, he’s going to have to warn me before he does that to me again.
“Where’s your mind?” His voice startles me as he walks up behind me. I’m sitting at the breakfast bar looking at my wedding planner and checking off last minute details. When I see him walking towards me in a tailor-fit double-breasted charcoal gray suit with lighter gray tie, my mouth falls open and I think I actually drool a bit. Fuck, he is fine! My girlie parts start to tingle again, but I am sore from head to toe. Dammit, he’s looks fucking edible. “Earth to Butterfly.” I swallow hard.
“Sorry. I was… distracted,” I breathe. He smiles and puts his arm around me. I flinch a bit. He was right, the corset did bruise a bit. The flinch didn’t get by Christian.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern clear in his eyes. I nod.
“The corset,” I confirm. He frowns.
“Don’t be,” I whisper. “We know what to do next time.” His pupils dilate.
“Anastasia…” he groans.
“What?” I answer softly.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he growls. I bite my lip.
“Sorry,” I respond insincere. He grabs my butt with both hands and brings his lips to mine. I return his passionate kiss, thrusting my hands in his hair and letting him know that I’m hungry for him anytime. After I lick his delicious flavor from his lips, he pulls back from me.
“I’m going into the office for a few hours,” he mumbles. “I won’t be long.”
“I was wondering why you were still here on a Wednesday,” I breathe.
“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
“I’m more than okay,” I say, licking his lips. “I’m deliciously sore all over.” He squeezes me ass again and groans in his chest.
“Fuck. How am I suppose to leave when you say things like that?” I kiss him again.
“You have an empire to run. Go run it. I’ll be here when you get back.” I caress his hair again and nip his lip. He groans again.
“Leaving now,” he says as he pushes himself away from and walks back to his study. I chew my ink pen as I watch him walk away. That fucking suit fits like a glove. I’m not sure I want anybody else to see him in that suit. It makes you want to rip it off of him and…
“Your highness?” Fuck! He scared the fucking shit out of me. When did Jason get here? Fuck.
“Yeah?” I answer, startled out of my skin.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. He just saw me ogling Christian… and now, I’m embarrassed. I know that I’m blushing, because I can feel it. “Don’t be ashamed. I just… I wanted to talk to you.” I frown a bit. His tone is uncertain. What’s wrong?
“Okay,” I say, giving him my full attention.
“I’m concerned… and a bit confused. When he touched you just now, you flinched. I saw you.” Shit, I was hoping he didn’t catch that. “…but the way you looked at him, it was like you would take him on the floor right here in front of me.” I shake my head and look down, smiling coyly. “I don’t want to get into your business but… well… I know what he does—used to do—to women in that room. I‘ve been around for a long time. I just want to make sure you’re not being… hurt.” The last word trails off. Jason knows that if Christian heard this conversation, he might very well be fired. I look over at the study door to see if he’s emerging before I speak.
“Jason, Christian is not capable of imposing the kind of pain that you’re concerned about… not on me anyway. Yes, it gets rough sometimes, but nothing more than I want. He’s adamant about that. Don’t worry about me. I may have been abused in my past, but I’m not the kind of girl to just roll over and take it.” I raise my eyebrows at him. His expression changes slightly and he nods once.
“Forgive me… for intruding. It’s just…” I put my hand on his arm to silence him.
“Thank you,” I say, smiling up at him. He returns my smile with a tight smile and a nod before returning to Christian’s study.
Chuck and I are making our rounds on Friday. My wedding is in two weeks and I have to make sure that everything is in place. Everything that needs to be picked up has been picked up. All of the travel arrangements that need to be made have been made. The bachelor and bachelorette activities have all been planned. With the paparazzi always just around the corner, I have no idea how we managed to keep this a secret. Christian and I have met with Josh and have already taken our engagement photos, although it was just a formality—something to go into the wedding album since our engagement was announced almost immediately and quite involuntarily.
I’m having the bridesmaids’ jewelry delivered to Escala along with a little something for Mandy, Grace, and Auntie Cynthia. I’ve also hand-picked my wedding trousseau as I don’t want anyone to see it but Christian. It’s being wrapped now at Agent Provocateur—the little skimpy ensemble. I’m moving on through the mall to Gucci. I fell in love with the Gucci by Gucci fragrance a while ago and knew that I had to have it, but not for every day.
I’ve finally found the occasion for it.
I’ve had this bottle on hold forever and I was sure that they would have sold it by now. Luckily, it’s not a fragrance they will discontinue anytime soon. It’s exquisite… so beautiful. You can’t use too much of it at once, but it’s quality and it lasts for hours and hours and hours. Couple that with body wash and lotion of the same scent and you have quite the winning combination. Those items were a bit harder to procure, but the salesperson at the Gucci store were able to find them for me with a little work. This scent is sure to drive Christian wild on our wedding night. The closer the day gets, the more excited I become about its implications:
I’ll become Mrs. Anastasia Grey.
I get to wear a one-of-a-kind, breathless, dreamy creation.
I’m getting married in a castle to Prince Charming.
All of my closest friends and family will be there.
I’ll be gaining a new family of some of the best people I have ever met.
My daddy will be giving me away and my new little brother will be somewhere in attendance.
And let’s face it—I’m going to be filthy rich!
I’m pulled from my nostalgia when I realize that we have arrived at our destination—an exclusive jeweler who deals in extra-exclusive items. Once again, buying a wedding present and ring for the man who has everything is damn-near impossible, but I saw something that I wanted to get him the moment I saw it just after we were engaged. I had to ascertain that he didn’t have one already, which is no small feat, then I had to find someone who could order the damn thing and have it ready before our wedding. That wasn’t the hardest part though. The hardest part was paying for them. These things took a nice chunk of my savings, but this was one thing that I definitely could not put on “the Black.” I went through a bit to procure them, being that I am not Christian Grey and couldn’t tell the jeweler exactly why I was buying it without letting the cat out of the bag about our wedding. Nonetheless, I’ve got them now, so no harm, no foul!
We are walking back to my Audi, bags in hand when I see her. She’s standing across the street just gazing at me. Chuck follows my gaze and freezes. He’s on his phone in minutes and I simply can’t stand the cat and mouse game anymore.
“Follow me or stand and watch,” I tell him before checking for traffic on the narrow street and crossing over to where the woman is standing. Older woman, dark hair… familiar looking. Why does she look so familiar. I’m drawn to her and I don’t know why. I’m not in danger. I’m know that I’m not even though Chuck is not so sure.
“Ana… be careful,” he says from right behind me as I examine this woman like a strange creature.
“It’s fine, Chuck,” I tell him as I continue to approach her.
“You’re…” She seems like she can hardly speak. “You’re beautiful.” What? That’s a little creepy. Where do I know this face?
“Who are you?” I ask. “Why do you keep following me?”
“I’m sorry, I…” her words trail off as she continues to examine me. “You’re so beautiful. I never would have imagined.”
“You’re making me nervous,” I tell her honestly. “And the big man over there is going to lose his patience. Tell me who you are.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to frighten you. I just… want to see for myself… that you were alright.”
That’s when it hits me. I know why she’s familiar. She’s familiar because he’s familiar… the man in my dream, the one who keeps apologizing but won’t tell me who he is. Oh. My. God.
“Who… are you?” I choke. She closes her eyes then opens them again.
“I’m Alexandria Lambert. Harold Lambert… was my son.”