After I drove him back to his hotel last night, Elliot made me promise I’d meet him for breakfast this morning. He pretends it’s because he just wants to spend a little more time with me before I drop him off at the airport, but I know he wants to continue to press me about what happened with Anastasia. But just as they were during the car ride back to his hotel, my lips are sealed… contractually.
As I cross the parking lot towards my Audi, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. There is a text message from Elena.
What are you doing?
On my way to breakfast with Elliot, then taking him to the airport. Call you when I get back to school.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I twist the key in the ignition and peel out of the parking lot, turning the radio on too loud in an attempt to drown out my thoughts. I feel like shit this morning. The scene from last night keeps replaying in my mind over and over again. I don’t think Elena needed to forbid me from seeing Anastasia again, I was a fucking asshole to her last night. She probably hates me now and I deserve it. I’ve been rehashing what I said to her when I threw her out all morning and each time I feel worse and worse. But worse than the red tinted memory of screaming in her face and throwing her out of my room, is the all too clear memory of her lips. Her taste, her touch, her body: slim, vulnerable, and hot from my hands running over her skin. The way she surrendered to my kiss, succumbed to my touch. The way she moaned as I pushed her back onto my bed. The way she writhed beneath me.
“Fuck,” I say aloud as I realize I’ve missed the restaurant where I’m meeting Elliot. I need to get a hold of myself. I need to get her out of my mind.
This is all because it’s been too long since I’ve seen Elena.
I’m used to three sessions a week in her playroom but I haven’t seen her in nearly two weeks. Thankfully, I know she’ll make good on her promise and make the trip out here soon. Even though I know I’ll have to face her retribution, it’ll all be worth it once I’m able to find release again. Once I’m no longer a pent up ball of anxiety, frustrated and horny as hell, forgetting about Anastasia will be a much easier feat. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to endure listening to Elliot talking about fucking Kavanagh all morning, which is really not going to help the it’s-been-too-long-since-I’ve-seen-Elena situation.
When I finally find a parking spot, I step out of the Audi and walk up the street one block to the diner. I open the door and scan the restaurant but don’t see anyone sitting alone at a table.
“Christian!” Elliot calls, and when I turn to look at him, I know why I hadn’t noticed him before. He isn’t alone. He’s sitting next to Kavanagh and across the table from both of them is…
I turn around and bolt back through the door. The last thing I need right now it Elliot to tell Mom about the breakfast he and I shared with Kate and Anastasia because I know my mother would have Elena on the phone as fast as her fingers could dial. In fact, this way, he’ll probably tell her I stormed out which might earn me points back with Elena after my mother calls her, thoroughly disappointed in me.
“Christian!” Elliot calls behind me and I turn and see him running up the sidewalk. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing? what are you doing?” I ask. “What happened to I’ll never see any of these girls ever again?”
“Well… Kate’s cool, man. She’s funny and smart and she does the weird stuff. If I’m going to be here all the time, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone to hang out with who has a vagina.”
“Have her then,” I spit back at him. “She can give you a ride to the airport. Enjoy your breakfast.”
“Christian!” Elliot yells after me as I storm away, but I ignore him. I hear his exasperated sigh as he turns around and heads back into the restaurant. When I get back into my car, my phone vibrates again but this time, it’s a text from Elliot.
Don’t be a dick. I have to be at the airport in an hour and a half, come have breakfast with us.
No thanks.
I stare down at the message displayed on my screen, frowning as I imagine him reading my too concise response and taking it badly, and then quickly type out a follow up message.
I’ll pick you up from your hotel in an hour to take you back to the airport.
Fine.
An hour later, I’m idling in front of the Hilton where Elliot is staying. He bangs twice on the trunk of my Audi and I press the button on the dash that will pop the latch for him.
“What the hell was that all about?” he asks, once he gets into the car.
“I didn’t really feel like having breakfast with Anastasia Steele,” I tell him, as I pull out onto the street.
“What’s going on with you two anyway?”
“Nothing. She’s just annoying,” I reply, immediately tasting how bitter the lie is on my tongue. Actually, she’s fascinating.
Knock it off, Grey. She’s nothing. Forget about her.
“I think she’s nice,” Elliot shrugs. “She’s pretty hot too. If you’re not going to move in on that, I might just have to find out how close she and Kate really are. Or how close they’re willing to get, you know what I mean?”
It’s a joke, but still my teeth grind together as the unwelcome image of my brother’s hands touching Anastasia flash across my mind. I shake it away immediately, I shouldn’t care at all, whether it’s Elliot or any other nameless douchebag on campus. My gut wrenches though as I’m unable to deny the fact that, actually, I do care. I care a lot.
“What, Kavanagh not enough for you?” I ask, trying to divert him.
“Oh she’s plenty,” Elliot grins. “Last night was incredible.”
I roll my eyes at him as he gives me a blow by blow of everything that happened the moment they left the party and just when I think I’ve about reached my limit, he changes the subject.
“Why was Elena calling you anyway?” he asks.
“What do you mean?” I reply, feigning confusion.
“Ana said you yelled at her and kicked her out because she answered a call from Elena. So what did she want?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, keeping the uninterested tone I’ve spent years developing. “She just wanted to see how school was going, I guess. Mom probably asked her to call me.”
“But she called you at like, midnight,” Elliot says, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s only 9 o’clock in Seattle,” I counter.
“She knows about the time difference.”
“I don’t know Elliot,” I say exasperatedly. “She sounded like she’d had a few too many glasses of wine when I called her back. Maybe she was plastered.”
“Ha!” Elliot laughs. “I swear to god, that woman needs like, an intervention or rehab or something. Do you remember last New Year’s Eve when she got so drunk she thought you were Mr. Lincoln and macked you right in front of Mom?”
“Yeah,” I reply darkly.
“That was hilarious. Remind me to make fun of her for that again when we go home later this month. You’ll have to send me the dates though. Mom didn’t tell me to plan a trip.”
“Going home for what?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Ana said it was on your schedule that you were flying back to Seattle later this month. I figured it was something Mom just forgot to tell me about. An early birthday dinner for Dad maybe.”
“That must have been on there by mistake,” I say quickly. “I’m not going back to Seattle until Thanksgiving.” Jesus, was there anything they didn’t talk about over breakfast?
“Oh,” Elliot says. “Well, never mind I guess.” We’re at the airport now and I drive up through the drop off lane rather than finding a place to park.
“I guess I’ll see you next month then,” Elliot says. “Do you want to make some plans for Halloween or should I come sooner than that?”
“You know you don’t have to come every month, Elliot. I’ll be fine here alone.”
“Will you just shut up and answer the question?”
“I don’t care. No, I don’t think I’ll make plans for Halloween.”
“You’re such a grouch,” he says, slugging me in the arm. I glare at him as he gets out of the car. He takes his bag out of the trunk and tells me to call him the next day. I wave him off and then pull back into the lane, running through everything Elliot told me about his breakfast with Kavanagh and Anastasia and how I’m going to explain it all to my mother, and to Elena.
The following day, I focus on nothing but making it through my routine. I wake up, go to the gym, come back to my dorm to take a shower, and then head out for rowing practice. Routines and organization have always given me a sense of control, and right now, I need as much control as I can get.
I’m the first to arrive at Newell Boathouse, the same as I am every morning, and I’m anxious to get out onto the water. The treadmill wasn’t enough to satiate the pent up energy I feel this morning so I’m hoping an hour or so in the boat, cutting through the river, will do the trick. I walk through the boathouse, turning on lights and pulling out equipment for practice. By the time I make it to the locker room to change, some of my teammates have arrived.
“What’s up, Grey?” Torres asks as I yank open the metal door to my locker. “I saw you at that party down on Berkley this weekend.”
“Yeah, my brother flew into town so we stopped by,” I reply as I pull my shirt over my head. “We were only there for an hour or so though.”
“Didn’t take long to find some pussy to take home?” he asks with a laugh.
“Something like that.”
“Reed was there too!” he yells over my head. “Did you get laid this weekend, Carter?”
“Nah,” Reed replies from the opposite side of the room. “There’s this girl in one of my classes though, Kate, I saw her in Annenberg last night and she says she’s got a roommate who she thinks I’d hit it off with. I’m going to a bonfire to this Sunday to meet her.”
“Do I know her? What’s her name?”
“Anastasia Steele,” Reed says.
I freeze while I listen to their conversation, not even wanting the rustle of my clothing to distort a single word that is said.
“Nope, never heard of her,” Torres says. “Anastasia though… she sounds hot.”
“Sounds like the name of a girl who’s good at sucking dick,” Reed says, and he reaches across the aisle to give Torres a high five. I slam the door to my locker closed and round on them.
“Why don’t you both stop thinking about your dicks for a minute and get out on the fucking water?” I snap. Their smiles fade and Torres hurries to his feet.
“Sure,” he says, grabbing his bag and heading over to the pool where the boat is docked. Reed gives me a slanted look as he follows after him.
Rowing is not enough to calm me down and I’m anxious for the rest of the day. Elena texts me constantly throughout the afternoon and it’s so distracting that even Ros gets frustrated in our meeting that night.
“Do you have something more important to be doing right now?” she asks irritably when I pick up my phone for the hundredth them. “Because I have other things I could be doing too.”
“No,” I tell her, but when my phone immediately vibrates again, she slams her notebook closed.
“We’ll pick this up tomorrow. I’ll see you in class,” she says, and she picks up her jacket and storms out of the library. I sigh and gather my things to head back to my dorm. I see Anastasia standing behind the circulation counter when I make it down to the first floor of the library and, though I want to linger for a moment and stare at her smiling radiantly at the lucky son of a bitch she’s helping, I sneak out so that she doesn’t notice me.
I know I’m not going to be able to avoid her forever though, a problem that becomes imminent as I drag my feet to British Literature Tuesday afternoon. I considered skipping class, using the time to get caught up on other homework I haven’t been able to focus on, but I have a paper due. Besides, regular attendance to my classes is one of the new rules Elena has laid down.
“You’re going to try, Christian,” she told me during our last session in the playroom before I left for school. “You’re going to really try to make this college thing work. You’re going to go to classes and keep up your grades and if you don’t get a deal and still don’t want to be at school by the end of your sophomore year, I’ll give you a way out. If you don’t put the effort in, there will be consequences.”
She’ll be here this weekend and since I’m doing everything I can to make it back into her good graces before she arrives Friday night, I grudgingly trudge to class.
Anastasia is already there when I arrive, seated in the same seat she’s always in and chewing on her bottom lip as she reads over her paper. The visual resonates in my groin. I’d give anything to have the chance to bite that lip, to kiss her, feel her tongue in my mouth, to feel her lips wrapped around my cock…
Quickly, I shake the image away and take a seat on the opposite end of the room, pull out my paper, and stare anywhere but at the enticing Anastasia Steele. Unfortunately, there isn’t much covered in class and I can’t even distract myself by taking notes. Instead, I find myself staring at the clock, counting the seconds, and the moment Dr. Collins releases us, I bolt upright and head for the door. I’ve barely made it out of the building however, when I hear her call out to me.
“Christian!” Anastasia shouts angrily. My teeth grind together as I turn to face her.
“What?” I snap.
“What do you mean, what?” she asks. “You don’t think you owe me an apology for Saturday?”
I want to laugh at her audacity. Sure, she’s probably right. I was an ass and maybe I would have apologized had she not immediately run off to Elliot and given him my entire life story, nearly blown the carefully constructed façade Elena and I have built over years to hide our relationship from my family. She doesn’t even know the hell she’s caused for me over these past couple days. She didn’t have to sit through the lecture from my mother telling me I need to try harder to make friends, or the suspicious conversation with, Elena who seems to think the coincidence of me showing up for breakfast at the same place Anastasia just happened to be is more significant than me immediately leaving.
“I owe you an apology?” I ask. “You violate my privacy, get involved in my personal affairs, talk to my family and my personal life without my consent and you expect an apology from me?
“I was looking out for you, I thought there might have been an emergency and I’m sorry that Elliot hooked up with my best friend and was talking to me about you, but maybe if you were more open with your family, you wouldn’t have to worry about what people say to them. The way you treated me that night was unacceptable and if you’re not going to apologize, the least you can do is give me an explanation.”
“The explanation is that we can’t be friends,” I tell her curtly, and her eyes widen with exasperation.
“Friends? We can’t be friends?” she scoffs.
“No, Anastasia, we can’t,” I tell her. She’s so angry her face is flushed, her breathing is heavy and her eyes are glinting. I imagine she looks similar after she’s just been fucked and the thought is distracting. Focus, Grey.
“Look, I think you’re a good person. Smart, witty, beau-” I cut my words off before I can finish the sentence. Why is it so difficult to be pissed at her? “But I can’t see you anymore. I’m not good for you and I just…”
My phone rings, cutting me off again, and I reach angrily into my pocket to retrieve it. It’s Elena.
“Mrs. Lincoln?” Anastasia guesses, the ire in her voice overtly apparent.
“I have to take this,” I say, turning away from her. The last thing I need is Elena to hear her voice once I answer and I have to answer.
“Yeah, I bet you do,” she says coldly.
“Good-bye, Anastasia,” I tell her, and I walk away, answering my phone as I make my way towards the library to meet Ros.
The rest of the week is torture. It seems like the more I try not to think about Anastasia, the more obsessed I become. She’s everywhere, all the time. She’s in Annenberg when I get breakfast in the morning and dinner at night. I see her in class, on the walkways between buildings on campus, she’s even at the library every time I’m able to find a few hours to meet with Ros. I can’t escape her. She’s all I can think about when I’m working on British Literature homework. Even when I’m isolated in Newell Boathouse, I can’t look at Carter Reed without wondering if he’s going to fuck her this weekend. It’s maddening.
I’m ecstatic when Friday finally arrives and I know Elena is going to be in town. I’m convinced that once we’re together, and I’m finally able to find some release, my preoccupation with Anastasia will diminish. I pack eagerly to meet her at the hotel, not really paying attention to the things I throw into my duffle bag.
When I’m finished, I throw my bag over my shoulder and head out the door, but before I can even pull my keys out of my pocket, the door across the hall opens and both Anastasia and Kavanagh come out. I glance between them once and then hurry away without a word, wondering if one of them will let slip to Elliot that I’m clearly leaving with an overnight bag. I’m becoming paranoid. I need Elliot to call it off with Kavanagh already, it’s too risky having her across the hall from me at all times.
When I get to the hotel in Boston, I give my name to the clerk at the desk and discover that I have a room all to myself. This isn’t a good sign. Although Elena and I have never shared a bed, she usually wants me in the room with her so if she wakes in the night and wants to fuck, she doesn’t have to track me down. She’s not very patient, especially when it comes to waiting on me, and the separate room thing leads me to believe this weekend will be much more about punishment than it will be about pleasure.
I just need to come. Even if it’s only once. That’s all it will take to get Anastasia out of my mind. I repeat the words in my head and then make my way to the elevator, ready for whatever this weekend is going to bring.
WARNING: The following section contains BDSM sex between Christian and Elena. If you do not wish to read this content, scroll down to the next section break.
When I get to my room, I immediately strip out of my clothes. Elena didn’t ask me to pick her up from the airport so I assume she got a car and her flight arrived forty five minutes ago, which means she should be arriving soon. I hope.
I take a minute to stretch out as I don’t know what she has planned for me once she gets here and then kneel by the door, stare down at my knees, and wait. Minutes go by, then half an hour, and I’m still kneeling. Part of me wonders if I should get up and check my phone, see if she’s texted me, but I don’t dare. It’s a good thing I don’t because seconds later, I hear the electronic chime of the lock accepting a key card and the door opens. My eyes shift back to the ground and Elena strides past me in tall, red, patent leather pumps. She’s dragging a huge suitcase behind her.
I can do nothing but listen as she places the suitcase on the bed and unzips it. I hear metal clinking together and other indistinguishable rustling as she puts the contents of the suitcase onto the bed.
“You can get up,” she says at last, and I comply immediately, though my knees groan in protest as I stand.
“Come here,” she tells me. I walk purposefully over to her, avoiding eye contact as I await her next command.
“Lift your arms over your head and do not move them,” she says. I do. Elena turns back to the bed and lifts something out of the suitcase and I have to stop myself from groaning when I realize what it is. She falls to her knees and I concentrate very hard to prevent myself from getting an erection as she closes her hand around my cock because, seconds later, she slides a hard, plastic chastity cage over me and secures it with a small padlock.
“Mmm,” she hums as she rises to her feet and places the tiny key to the lock in her bra. “That’s better, don’t you think?”
“If it pleases you.”
“Lie down on the bed,” she commands, and I turn without hesitation to do as she says. She reaches back into her suitcase and pulls out of few bundles of nylon rope. Once my hands are secured to the headboard and my legs tied down to the end of the bed, she takes out a few candles, lights them, and places them on the bedside table before straddling me and lowering her lips to mine. I succumb to her kiss, moving my tongue in rhythm with hers as her hands reach up and begin to tug at the roots of my hair. It’s difficult to maintain control of my body and I can feel the plastic restraint around my cock tighten slightly as I begin to grow harder.
Easy, Grey.
“You’re going to be punished,” she whispers against my lips. “But I haven’t quite yet decided how severely. Would you like the chance to persuade me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But you’re all tied up,” she pouts. “What do you intend to do?”
“Would my mouth please you?” I ask, and she smiles.
“Yes, I think your mouth will be just fine.”
Climbing up onto her knees, she slowly peels away her silk blouse so that she’s kneeling over me in only a red satin bra that pushes her breasts together and makes her ample cleavage deep and defined. She moves off of me and removes her black pencil skirt so she is left only the matching panties that leave little to the imagination. I stare at her hungrily as she dips her fingers under the thin band over her hips and pulls them down, revealing herself to me. She smiles down at me as, again, she climbs onto the bed, this time hovering over my mouth.
I lean forward and run my nose up her vulva, purposefully exhaling over her so that she’s exposed to my hot breath, and I see her clench with anticipation. A smile breaks across my face and then, oh so gently, I wrap my lips around her clitoris and lightly suck. She breathes out a low approving sound and sinks lower over onto me, spreading her legs wider and opening herself up for my tongue. I dip my tongue inside of her and then drag it up her lips and slowly begin circling her clitoris. As I alternate between licking and sucking her, her breathing turns into whimpering, and after a minute or so, I know she’s getting close.
I bite down on her gently a tug, stretching her the way she likes, and I’m able to elicit a cry of pleasure. She’s wet. I can feel her arousal dripping out of her and onto my chin as I continue my ruthless assault on her clitoris with my tongue. I want to use my hands, I could make her come so much more quickly with my hands, but I don’t have the option. I dip inside her again, fucking her with my tongue as she begins panting and grinding herself down on my face.
“Yes!” she cries. “Just like that.”
I bite down on her again, a little harder this time, but not enough to hurt her, and she detonates. My mouth creates suction around her clitoris and I continue to work her over with my lips and tongue. The plastic around my cock is now painfully tight but I don’t pay attention to it. Hearing her cries of ecstasy is enough for me now. Surely, I shall be rewarded for this.
Eventually she pulls herself away from my lips, panting heavily as she collapses onto the bed next to me. She rests for only a second before leaning over and running her tongue over my chin, and then kisses me hard again so that I can taste her arousal in her mouth. I moan appreciatively and she smiles.
“Tell me about the girl, Christian,” she whispers.
This is a trap. There is no right answer to this question. I can either play stupid, pretend I don’t know what she’s talking about and earn several lashes, or I can give her what she wants and in the process reveal how much I’ve been thinking about Anastasia, which would also earn me several lashes. I chose the former as I know it’s the better of the two options.
“What girl?” I ask, and Elena’s smile vanishes.
“You’re a smart young man, Christian. Do not play stupid with me. The girl. The girl you had in your room. The girl who answered the phone when I called. Anastasia Steele.” She reaches out and runs a scarlet colored nail up my sternum and my breath hisses between my teeth. Focus, Grey.
“I’ve told you,” I manage to say through clenched teeth. “She lives across the hall from me. She was waiting in my room while Elliot fucked her roommate.”
She sighs and gets off the bed, walks over to her suitcase, and slowly pulls out her favorite leather strap flogger. I swallow once as she paces back to me, smiles mischievously, and then brings the straps down hard over my chest. A grunt forces its way out from deep in my gut as she hits me again and again, a total of seven times, and then lazily drapes the straps over her shoulder.
“Why don’t we try again?” she asks. “I’ll be clearer this time. Do you think it’s appropriate to have a girl in your room at all, regardless of what Elliot is doing to her roommate?”
“Nothing happened,” I tell her quickly, but she hits me again, harder this time. The bite of the lash leaves a lingering sting in my skin and I feel the endorphin rush flow through me.
“I’ve known you a long time, Christian,” she tells me. “I know when you’re upset, I know when you’re happy, I know when you’re just about at your pain limit… and I know when you’re lying to me.”
“I didn’t fuck her,” I say defensively.
“So what did you do?”
“Nothing. I told you, I was doing homework.”
She spins the flogger around in her hand like she’s turning a jump rope and the straps lick my skin in a constant shower. I have nothing to count as the bite of leather never stops. I can feel the beginning of welts forming over my chest, but I close my lips and prevent myself from crying out. I take it, thinking only about the reward that will surely come at the end.
She hits me for nearly thirty seconds, and when she stops I can feel the sweat covering my body. My chest and abdomen feel as though they’re on fire, but it’s over now, and I took it all. I didn’t safe word. I’ve never safe worded with Elena before and it’s a point of pride.
“What did you do, Christian?” she asks again.
“Nothing,” I tell her again. “Nothing happened.”
Again she sighs, a woeful look of regret on her face. “You never make this easy, do you?” she says, and I watch her throw the flogger down on the opposite bed and then pick up a candle off the bedside table. My eyes widen as she lifts the candle over me and gently pours a single drop of the hot, melted wax onto my chest. The burn in my skin brings back painful memories and I involuntarily pull hard against my restraints.
“Fuck!” I yell, and she clicks her tongue as she lets another drop fall.
“Tell me, Christian,” she says gently. “Tell me everything that happened.”
I can’t answer her. I’m panting, not from exertion now, but because of the irrational fear that grips me when anyone touches my chest. Even though I’m used to her touch, this is worse. Much worse. I cry out as she tips the candle further and the individual drops turn to a stream of hot wax pooling onto my chest.The burn is overwhelming me, I can hear the echos of the pimp laughing as he put cigarette after cigarette out on my chest beginning to ring in my ears.
“I kissed her!” I scream, and at once she stops. I’m shaking, gasping to catch my breath, but all of that is pushed aside as I look up into Elena’s ice cold gaze and a new kind of fear grips me. Fuck.
Reaching over the top of me, she pulls on the rope that binds my hands so that it unravels and then quickly moves down to my legs.
“Get up,” she says coldly once I’m free, and, immediately, I do as she asks. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”
As I comply with her command, I listen very carefully to her taking whatever implement she chooses out of the suitcase, but it doesn’t make a sound. That isn’t a good sign.
Seconds later I feel the cold, hard surface of her cane brush gently over my back.
“Who do you belong to?” she asks, in a low, even voice.
“You,” I reply.
“And, what is the first rule?”
“I will obey you and submit to any sexual activity or punishment you deem necessary or pleasurable eagerly and without hesitation.”
“And the eighth rule?”
“I will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than you.”
“And what happens when you break the rules?”
“Failure to comply with the rules will result in immediate punishment.”
“So you agree that you deserve this?”
I take a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Good. Then I’m going to hit you twelve times.”
“If it pleases you.” The cane brushes over my back once more and I do my best to relax, ignoring the fire that still burns in my chest, ignoring the pain from the plastic chastity casing gripping too tightly around my cock. I take a deep breath and clear my mind.
The sound of the cane cutting through the air is initially worse than the blow, but that doesn’t last long. By the fourth time she hits me, I can no longer hold back the grunt of pain and I’m only a third of the way there. My senses flame to life and I can feel everything around me. I can hear the effort it takes her to swing the cane for the eighth and ninth time. I can feel the sweat running down my brow. By the twelfth swing, I can practically taste the pain.
Still, I don’t safe word.
“Get- on the bed,” she pants, and even though every part of my body is alive with pain, I do so as quickly as possible.
She returns to her suitcase, throwing the cane back down on the mattress and pulls out a thick, rubber strap on. I stare at it dubiously, regretfully. I think I’m too close to my limit to take this now. But, surprisingly, she doesn’t secure the belt around her waist, but instead, places it around mine. I watch her curiously, and then with horror as she straddles me again and sinks down over the erect rubber. She moves up and down, moaning, and all I can do is watch her and listen to her enticing moans. I reap none of the pleasure.
She rides me furiously, refusing to allow me to touch her. The chastity casing is digging into me as my erection is beyond control now. I wince and gasp each time she slams back down on me as the movement jerks the plastic around my cock in a harsh, painful way. It lasts nearly fifteen minutes before she eventually comes and the movement stops. Wincing as she raises herself off the cock that isn’t mine, she rolls over onto the bed to catch her breath.
“I want you to clean up and re-pack my bag,” she pants, and though even the idea of moving is extraordinarily painful for my cock, I do as I am asked. When the toys have been cleaned and her suitcase packed to her preferred specifications, she kisses me hard, possessively, on the mouth and then returns to her own room.
She does not remove the chastity cage before she leaves.
I ease myself onto the bed, doing my best to bring my body back to heel, and once my erection has gone and I’m no longer overcome with the pain, I roll over and punch the pillow on the bed several times to release the frustration. I shouldn’t have said anything, I should have kept my mouth shut. As it is, I’ll be lucky if I get to come all weekend, or maybe even the foreseeable future.
The next few days are very much reminiscent of our first night in this hotel room. The cage remains firmly in place while I proceed to pleasure her by every other means possible. Finally, Sunday afternoon, as I pump my fingers furiously and out of her while she comes in my hand, she lets out an elated laugh and kisses me tenderly on the lips.
“You’ve pleased me,” she says. “You’ve done everything I’ve asked and done it well. I think you’ve suffered enough, don’t you?”
“If you think so, Ma’am,” I reply.
“Mmm,” she moans. “Come here.”
Reaching into her bra for the key to the padlock, she kneels down and eases the cage off of my erection. The relief is both immediate and overwhelmingly welcome. She smiles down at my cock and then very gently, eases it into her mouth.
I exhale sharply with relief. I’ve never needed this more.
“Do you want to fuck me, Christian?” she asks, looking up at me as she takes my cock into her mouth again.
“Yes. If it pleases you,” I reply eagerly. She smiles, and then runs her tongue up my body from my cock to my mouth.
“Take me,” she whispers. “You’re in charge. Fuck me hard.”
I don’t need to be asked twice. I grip her firmly and then throw her back on the bed, face down, and pull her ass up into the air. She’s already soaking from her orgasm so I waste no time preparing her. One sharp thrust, and I’m buried inside of her, reveling in the feeling of her hot and wet around me. Gripping tightly to her hips I drive into her as hard as I can, over and over again, pulling her against me to double the aggressiveness of each thrust, but as I go on and on and feel her orgasm fast approaching, I find that I’m not close. Not close at all.
I reach back and slap her on the ass as hard as I can. Her skin pinks immediately, leaving a red mark in the shape of my hand, but it doesn’t help. I do it again, and again, harder each time. I wrap my hand in her hair and yank it back, but even as she finds release, her walls gripping tightly to me like a velvet vice, I still find myself nowhere close to orgasm.
“Come for me, Christian,” she begs as her orgasm continues to rock through her. “Come for me, baby.”
I focus solely on my cock, trying to block everything out but the way she feels around me, but it’s no use. Quickly, my mind conjures up the most erotic images it can, my favorite scenes in the playroom, and still nothing. Suddenly though, a new memory flashes across my mind, not of the playroom, but of Anastasia beneath me in my bed, her lips and tongue entangled with mine, and I immediately feel the heat of my orgasm blooming inside of me. Closing my eyes, I picture her, soft and hot beneath me. I imagine my hands are wrapped tightly around her hips, that it’s her voice screaming my name as she comes around me and I erupt.
“Fuck!” I hiss as I empty myself into her. I collapse on top of her, panting as my mind begins reeling. That was… that was fucking intense. And it had nothing to do with…
Elena rolls over and kisses me again. “Feel better?”
“Yes, thank you, ma’am,” I reply, only just remembering my training as my mind continues to ruminate over Anastasia.
“I have to leave,” she pouts. “My flight leaves in a couple hours.”
“Okay.”
“Will you be sad to see me go?”
“Of course.” I tell her, and she smiles before pressing her lips to mine.
We roll out of bed and I help her pack her things. She wraps me in a hug as she turns to leave but as she pulls away, she slaps me again, hard enough that I feel it in my teeth.
“Ah!” I cry out. “What was that for?’
“You won’t see her again,” Elena says, her full domme persona in full effect. “I mean it. Anastasia Steele is no longer any part of your life.”
“I understand.”
“Good, because if I find out other wise, I’ll have you in that cage for a month.”
I gulp as she leans into kiss me one last time and then rush forward to get the door for her. Once she’s gone, I slump against the door.
What am I going to do?
I get dressed for the first time since Friday night and re-pack the duffle bag I’ve brought. It occurs to me as I pull out of the hotel parking lot and make my way back up the road toward Cambridge that tonight was the night Kavanagh was planning on introducing Anastasia to Carter Reed. I feel a painful twinge deep in my gut and realize that even though the insatiable lust that has plagued me over the last week has been sated, the longing for the girl across the hall has not disappeared. In fact, now that I can really think clearly about Reed with Anastasia, picture them together, there is no longer only anger stained hatred for the idea, but also a deep, sickening feel to it. Imagining him touching her makes me…
I gag slightly as the taste of bile crawls into my throat. No, he’s not good for her. I know what he thinks of her, what he’s said about her, and she deserves someone better. Someone who would respect her, appreciate her mind and her sense of humor and what a beautiful creature she really is. She deserves someone who could really please her and I doubt Carter Reed knows two shits about what to do with a woman.
When I pull into my parking place, I grind my teeth together as I realize I’m making excuses to myself of why she should be with me. It’s a waste of effort. I belong to Elena, at least until the contract expires next spring. The thought hits me like the first breath of air after being underwater too long. It’s like a ray of hope that glimmers down through the dark stormy clouds that color my mood.
What if I didn’t resign the contract in the spring? I would be free from Elena, free to pursue Anastasia as much as I wanted to. But the clouds return again as I begin to question if that’s what I really want. My fascination with Anastasia may be more than a fleeting interest, but it couldn’t replace what I have with Elena. She understands me, gives me what I need to feel okay. I can share anything with her and feel unembarrassed. I doubt I’d have anything like that with an innocent like Anastasia. I doubt she’d even be into any of the things involved in my lifestyle. How would she react to canes and floggers and hot melted wax? Would she let me exercise the control over her that Elena currently wields over me?
I’m not sure, but as I make my way into my room, I’m at least intrigued by the possibility.
As I pace around my room imagining it, vividly, I realize how much I really want her. I have to know if this is something she would even consider, but if I am to ask her in the spring, I have to build a relationship with her now. I need to get on her good side, but how? She asked for an apology the other day. I can do that.
Quickly, I yank my door open and begin knocking furiously on her’s. I wait anxiously for a few minutes until I remember… she’s out with Carter Reed, and my excitement is extinguished like a bucket of water thrown over a campfire. It might be too late. What if she likes him? What if she wants him? What if they start fucking or dating or whatever normal people do? Maybe, she’s not looking for hot sex. Maybe she’s looking for a relationship. Maybe she wants hearts and flowers and all of that bullshit…
I need to see her. I need to be able to read her when she gets back, but I can’t stand here in the middle of the hallway waiting for her like some kind of stalker. Inspiration hits me and I grab a few books and head down to the common area on the first floor, pretending to study as the other students of Grays Hall move about and occupy the space around me.
When the sun begins to set, several students make their way back up to their room. I look over at the clock and watch the hour get later and later until eventually I’m alone in the dark common area. It’s getting late and that isn’t a good sign. She must be having a good time.
There is a piano across the room and I move morosely over towards it, brushing my fingers across the keys to check the pitch. Surprisingly it’s in tune.
Settling down on the bench and brooding over Anastasia’s continued absence, I choose a melancholy Bach piece I learned to play as a child to occupy my mind. I’m nearly a third of the way through when, over the music, I hear laughter just outside the main doors. Kavanagh and Anastasia walk into the foyer, smiling broadly at one another until they see me seated at the piano. The happiness I see on Anastasia’s face is like a punch in the gut. She liked him, she must have liked him.
That’s it Grey, it’s over. You missed your shot.
I continue to play the Bach piece, trying to keep myself from looking over at Anastasia. Strangely, I feel a profound sense of loss in this moment and it confuses me. How can I feel loss over something I never had to begin with?
“Come on,” Kavanagh says, as she turns and begins walking towards the stairs, but I can see Anastasia hesitate out of the corner of my eye. She’s staring at me. I focus on each note my fingers elicit from the piano until finally, she begins following her friend and I can’t force my fingers to move anymore. The music stops and I’m alone in the dark, my head filled with the sound of her footsteps echoing across the floor as she walks away from me.
“Ana,” I whisper, and the footsteps stop. I stare into the darkness, knowing she’s waiting for me to say something, but what can I say? Wait for me? Don’t fall for someone else so you’ll be free for me to fuck come springtime? No, if she’s happy… if she likes him, she should have the chance to see it through. I can’t give her a relationship the way even someone as asinine as Carter Reed can. I take a deep breath, and begin the song where I left off and her footsteps continue up the stairs.
Forget about her, Grey.
wishingmrgreywashere 