Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James
Other types/methods of pain
Holy Fuck. I can’t bring myself to even consider the food list. I swallow hard, my mouth dry, and read it again.
My head is buzzing. How can I possibly agree to all this? And apparently it’s for my benefit, to explore my sensuality, my limits – safely – oh please! I scoff angrily. Serve and obey in all things. All Things! I shake my head in disbelief. Actually, doesn’t the marriage ceremony use those words… obey? This throws me. Do couples still say that? Only three months, is that why there have been so many? He doesn’t keep them for long? Or have they had enough after three months? Every weekend? That’s too much. I’ll never see Kate or whatever friends I may make at my new job – provided I get one. Perhaps I should have one weekend a month to myself. Perhaps when I have my period, that sounds… practical. He’s my master! To be dealt with as he pleases! Holy shit.
I shudder at the thought of being flogged or whipped. Spanking probably wouldn’t be so bad, humiliating though. And tied up? Well he did tie my hands together. That was… well it was hot, really hot, so perhaps that won’t be so bad. He won’t loan me to another Dominant – damn right he won’t. That would be totally unacceptable. Why am I even thinking about this?
I can’t look him in the eye. How weird is that? The only way I ever have any chance to see what he’s thinking. Actually, whom am I kidding, I never know what he’s thinking, but I like looking into his eyes. He has beautiful eyes – captivating, intelligent, deep and dark, dark with dominant secrets. I recall his burning smoky gaze and press my thighs together, squirming.
And I can’t touch him. Well, no surprise there. And these silly rules… No, no I can’t do this. I put my head in my hands. This is no way to have a relationship. I need some sleep. I’m shattered. All the physical shenanigans I’ve been engaged in over the last twenty-four hours have been, frankly, exhausting. And mentally… oh man, this is so much
to take on board. As José would say, a real mind-fuck. Perhaps in the morning, this might not read like a bad joke.
I scramble up and change quickly. Perhaps I should borrow Kate’s pink flannel paja- mas. I want something cuddly and reassuring around me. I head to the bathroom in my t-shirt and sleep shorts and brush my teeth.
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. You can’t seriously be considering this… My subconscious sounds sane and rational, not her usual snarky self. My inner goddess is jumping up and down, clapping her hands like a five-year-old. Please, let’s do this… otherwise we’ll end up alone with lots of cats and your classic novels to keep you company. The only man I’ve ever been attracted to, and he comes with a bloody contract, a flogger, and a whole world of issues. Well, at least I got my way this weekend. My inner goddess stops jumping and smiles serenely. Oh yes… she mouths, nodding at me smugly. I flush at the memory of his hands and his mouth on me, his body inside mine. Closing my eyes, I feel the familiar delicious pull of my muscles from deep, deep down. I want to do that again and again. Maybe if I just sign up for the sex… would he go with that? I
suspect not.
Am I submissive? Maybe I come across that way. Maybe I misled him in the inter- view. I’m shy, yes… but submissive? I let Kate bully me – is that the same? And those soft limits, jeez. My mind boggles, but I’m reassured that they are up for discussion.
I wander back to my bedroom. This is too much to think about. I need a clear head – a fresh morning approach to the problem. I put the offending documents back in my satchel. Tomorrow… tomorrow is another day. Clambering into bed, I switch off the light and lie staring up at the ceiling. Oh, I wish I’d never met him. My inner goddess shakes her head at me. She and I know it’s a lie. I have never felt as alive as I do now.
I close my eyes, and I drift into a heavy sleep with occasional dreams of four-poster beds and shackles and intense gray eyes.
Kate wakes me the next day.
“Ana, I’ve been calling you. You must have been out cold.”
My eyes reluctantly open. She’s not just up – she’s been for a run. I glance at my alarm. It’s eight in the morning. Holy Moses, I’ve slept for a solid nine hours.
“What is it?” I mumble sleepily.
“There’s a man here with a delivery for you. You have to sign for it.” “What?”
“Come on. It’s big. It looks interesting.” She hops from foot to foot excitedly and bounds back into the living area. I clamber out of bed and grab my dressing gown hanging on the back of my door. A smart young man with a ponytail is standing in our living room clasping a large box.
“Hi,” I mumble.
“I’ll make you some tea.” Kate scuttles off to the kitchen. “Miss Steele?”
And I immediately know whom the parcel is from.
“Yes,” I answer cautiously.
“I have a package for you here, but I have to set it up and show you how to use it.” “Really? At this time?”
“Only following orders, ma’am.” He smiles in a charming but professional he’s-not- taking-any-crap way.
Did he just call me ma’am? Have I aged ten years overnight? If I have, it’s that con- tract. My mouth puckers in disgust.
“Okay, what is it?” “It’s a MacBook Pro.”
“Of course it is.” I roll my eyes.
“These aren’t available in the shops yet, ma’am, the very latest from Apple.” How come that does not surprise me? I sigh heavily.
“Just set it up on the dining table over there.” I wander into the kitchen to join Kate.
“What is it?” she says inquisitive, bright eyed and bushy tailed. She’s slept well too. “It’s a laptop from Christian.”
“Why’s he sent you a laptop? You know you can use mine,” she frowns.
Not for what he has in mind.
“Oh, it’s only on loan. He wanted me to try it out.” My excuse sounds feeble. But Kate nods her assent. Oh my… I have hoodwinked Katherine Kavanagh. A first. She hands me my tea.
The Mac laptop is sleek and silver and rather beautiful. It has a very large screen.
Christian Grey likes scale – I think of his living area, in fact, his whole apartment.
“It’s got the latest OS and a full suite of programs, plus a one-point-five terabyte hard drive so you’ll have plenty of room, thirty-two gigs of RAM – what are you planning to use it for?
“Uh… email.”
“Email!” he chokes, bemused, raising his eyebrows with a slightly sick look on his face.
“And maybe Internet research?” I shrug apologetically. He sighs.
“Well, this has full wireless N, and I’ve set it up with your Me account details. This baby is all ready to go, practically anywhere on the planet.” He looks longingly at it.
“Me account?”
“Your new email address.”
I have an email address?
He points to an icon on the screen and continues to talk at me but it’s like white noise. I haven’t got a clue what he’s saying, and in all honestly, I’m not interested. Just tell me how to switch it on and off – I’ll figure out the rest. After all, I’ve been using Kate’s for four years. Kate whistles, impressed when she sees it.
“This is next-generation tech.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “Most women get flowers or maybe jewelry,” she says suggestively, trying to suppress a smile.
I scowl at her but can’t keep a straight face. We both burst into a fit of giggles, and computer man gapes at us, bemused. He finishes up and asks me to sign the delivery note.
As Kate shows him out, I sit with my cup of tea, open the email program, and sitting there waiting for me is an email from Christian. My heart leaps into my mouth. I have an email from Christian Grey. Nervously, I open it.
From: Christian Grey Subject: Your New Computer Date: May 22 2011 23:15
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
I trust you slept well. I hope that you put this laptop to good use, as discussed. I look forward to dinner, Wednesday.
Happy to answer any questions before then, via email, should you so desire.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I hit reply.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Your New Computer (on loan) Date: May 23 2011 08:20
To: Christian Grey
I slept very well thank you – for some strange reason – Sir. I understood that this computer was on loan, ergo not mine. Ana
Holy Fuck. I can’t bring myself to even consider the food list. I swallow hard, my mouth dry, and read it again.
My head is buzzing. How can I possibly agree to all this? And apparently it’s for my benefit, to explore my sensuality, my limits – safely – oh please! I scoff angrily. Serve and obey in all things. All Things! I shake my head in disbelief. Actually, doesn’t the marriage ceremony use those words… obey? This throws me. Do couples still say that? Only three months, is that why there have been so many? He doesn’t keep them for long? Or have they had enough after three months? Every weekend? That’s too much. I’ll never see Kate or whatever friends I may make at my new job – provided I get one. Perhaps I should have one weekend a month to myself. Perhaps when I have my period, that sounds… practical. He’s my master! To be dealt with as he pleases! Holy shit.
I shudder at the thought of being flogged or whipped. Spanking probably wouldn’t be so bad, humiliating though. And tied up? Well he did tie my hands together. That was… well it was hot, really hot, so perhaps that won’t be so bad. He won’t loan me to another Dominant – damn right he won’t. That would be totally unacceptable. Why am I even thinking about this?
I can’t look him in the eye. How weird is that? The only way I ever have any chance to see what he’s thinking. Actually, whom am I kidding, I never know what he’s thinking, but I like looking into his eyes. He has beautiful eyes – captivating, intelligent, deep and dark, dark with dominant secrets. I recall his burning smoky gaze and press my thighs together, squirming.
And I can’t touch him. Well, no surprise there. And these silly rules… No, no I can’t do this. I put my head in my hands. This is no way to have a relationship. I need some sleep. I’m shattered. All the physical shenanigans I’ve been engaged in over the last twenty-four hours have been, frankly, exhausting. And mentally… oh man, this is so much
to take on board. As José would say, a real mind-fuck. Perhaps in the morning, this might not read like a bad joke.
I scramble up and change quickly. Perhaps I should borrow Kate’s pink flannel paja- mas. I want something cuddly and reassuring around me. I head to the bathroom in my t-shirt and sleep shorts and brush my teeth.
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. You can’t seriously be considering this… My subconscious sounds sane and rational, not her usual snarky self. My inner goddess is jumping up and down, clapping her hands like a five-year-old. Please, let’s do this… otherwise we’ll end up alone with lots of cats and your classic novels to keep you company. The only man I’ve ever been attracted to, and he comes with a bloody contract, a flogger, and a whole world of issues. Well, at least I got my way this weekend. My inner goddess stops jumping and smiles serenely. Oh yes… she mouths, nodding at me smugly. I flush at the memory of his hands and his mouth on me, his body inside mine. Closing my eyes, I feel the familiar delicious pull of my muscles from deep, deep down. I want to do that again and again. Maybe if I just sign up for the sex… would he go with that? I
suspect not.
Am I submissive? Maybe I come across that way. Maybe I misled him in the inter- view. I’m shy, yes… but submissive? I let Kate bully me – is that the same? And those soft limits, jeez. My mind boggles, but I’m reassured that they are up for discussion.
I wander back to my bedroom. This is too much to think about. I need a clear head – a fresh morning approach to the problem. I put the offending documents back in my satchel. Tomorrow… tomorrow is another day. Clambering into bed, I switch off the light and lie staring up at the ceiling. Oh, I wish I’d never met him. My inner goddess shakes her head at me. She and I know it’s a lie. I have never felt as alive as I do now.
I close my eyes, and I drift into a heavy sleep with occasional dreams of four-poster beds and shackles and intense gray eyes.
Kate wakes me the next day.
“Ana, I’ve been calling you. You must have been out cold.”
My eyes reluctantly open. She’s not just up – she’s been for a run. I glance at my alarm. It’s eight in the morning. Holy Moses, I’ve slept for a solid nine hours.
“What is it?” I mumble sleepily.
“There’s a man here with a delivery for you. You have to sign for it.” “What?”
“Come on. It’s big. It looks interesting.” She hops from foot to foot excitedly and bounds back into the living area. I clamber out of bed and grab my dressing gown hanging on the back of my door. A smart young man with a ponytail is standing in our living room clasping a large box.
“Hi,” I mumble.
“I’ll make you some tea.” Kate scuttles off to the kitchen. “Miss Steele?”
And I immediately know whom the parcel is from.
“Yes,” I answer cautiously.
“I have a package for you here, but I have to set it up and show you how to use it.” “Really? At this time?”
“Only following orders, ma’am.” He smiles in a charming but professional he’s-not- taking-any-crap way.
Did he just call me ma’am? Have I aged ten years overnight? If I have, it’s that con- tract. My mouth puckers in disgust.
“Okay, what is it?” “It’s a MacBook Pro.”
“Of course it is.” I roll my eyes.
“These aren’t available in the shops yet, ma’am, the very latest from Apple.” How come that does not surprise me? I sigh heavily.
“Just set it up on the dining table over there.” I wander into the kitchen to join Kate.
“What is it?” she says inquisitive, bright eyed and bushy tailed. She’s slept well too. “It’s a laptop from Christian.”
“Why’s he sent you a laptop? You know you can use mine,” she frowns.
Not for what he has in mind.
“Oh, it’s only on loan. He wanted me to try it out.” My excuse sounds feeble. But Kate nods her assent. Oh my… I have hoodwinked Katherine Kavanagh. A first. She hands me my tea.
The Mac laptop is sleek and silver and rather beautiful. It has a very large screen.
Christian Grey likes scale – I think of his living area, in fact, his whole apartment.
“It’s got the latest OS and a full suite of programs, plus a one-point-five terabyte hard drive so you’ll have plenty of room, thirty-two gigs of RAM – what are you planning to use it for?
“Uh… email.”
“Email!” he chokes, bemused, raising his eyebrows with a slightly sick look on his face.
“And maybe Internet research?” I shrug apologetically. He sighs.
“Well, this has full wireless N, and I’ve set it up with your Me account details. This baby is all ready to go, practically anywhere on the planet.” He looks longingly at it.
“Me account?”
“Your new email address.”
I have an email address?
He points to an icon on the screen and continues to talk at me but it’s like white noise. I haven’t got a clue what he’s saying, and in all honestly, I’m not interested. Just tell me how to switch it on and off – I’ll figure out the rest. After all, I’ve been using Kate’s for four years. Kate whistles, impressed when she sees it.
“This is next-generation tech.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “Most women get flowers or maybe jewelry,” she says suggestively, trying to suppress a smile.
I scowl at her but can’t keep a straight face. We both burst into a fit of giggles, and computer man gapes at us, bemused. He finishes up and asks me to sign the delivery note.
As Kate shows him out, I sit with my cup of tea, open the email program, and sitting there waiting for me is an email from Christian. My heart leaps into my mouth. I have an email from Christian Grey. Nervously, I open it.
From: Christian Grey Subject: Your New Computer Date: May 22 2011 23:15
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
I trust you slept well. I hope that you put this laptop to good use, as discussed. I look forward to dinner, Wednesday.
Happy to answer any questions before then, via email, should you so desire.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I hit reply.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Your New Computer (on loan) Date: May 23 2011 08:20
To: Christian Grey
I slept very well thank you – for some strange reason – Sir. I understood that this computer was on loan, ergo not mine. Ana