Tesslyn and Mr. Grey, Sir

Yes, before Christian Grey met the love of his life, Ana, he frequented a BDSM club in Seattle for training-to learn and practice what he does. This is a fictitious telling, based on a fictitious character in the very real Fifty Shades trilogy book series written by acclaimed author E. L. James; thus the inspiration for this scenario. I give my take, in narrative and poem, on what he could have experienced. This is "fan fiction", not used for profit and infringement of copyright is not and was not intended. Enjoy!

Munson Walker

Mr. Grey, Sir

He has those steely, bright gray eyes; dark copper-tinted hair, lengthy on top cut close to the sides and back. He's tall to my 5' frame, about a foot more it appears. A lean physique, I'm guessing he is in good shape, probably a health fanatic. He looks fresh and so clean, clean in his deep charcoal suit, white shirt and light gray tie with tiny patterned octagons. Why he chose me to be his Submissive in training is beyond me. I mean, why is he here? Most of the men who come here are like him, well-to-do, high-powered business types; but, his wealth is obscene. He could have his own dungeon in his home.

According to his profile, he has no preference for Black girls. Actually, he favors brunettes, so why me?. Not to mention his proclivity for spanking and using the belts, whips, canes and other corporal implements. Guys like him usually get off on the pinking and redness of the skin during play. I would be frustrating for him. Not the right skin tone. And, I'd need after care the next day, when the evidence would be visible and painful. If he wanted a Black girl, he should have requested a red bone…Monica is fair skinned. Plus, I'm a Domme, now. Clearly stated in my file and no mistaking. What kind of game is he up to?

He has a hard limit about being touched; a very defined parameter. I'd written about it, haphephobia, in a section of my Master's thesis, "Adaptive Behaviors: Compensating Mechanisms for Coping with Irrational Fears." The Institutional Review Board was really hung up on my definition of irrational. One person's irrational is quite rational for another. I think I can navigate his parameter; it's not like a boot or foot fetish. He has a real psychological problem.

He's been here on four other occasions; it takes a trained eye (the girls do not share about client sessions), but I surmise he has sociopathic leanings, is arrogantly domineering and is probably an overbearing narcissist. I don't want to cause a meltdown. People like us come here to learn, to live out our fantasies, find release. Be our true selves. It can be our therapy. This is our no-judgment zone.

I passed him when he arrived this evening and stared up into his eyes like we were having a challenge of wills. No Submissive would do that. I'll have to tread very carefully with him. His type doesn't give up control and I must restrain my urges, somewhat. I don't see this working.

Tess (Tesslyn)

Good evening, Mr. Grey, sir. My name is Tess;

been here before but not introduced, yet.

I take it, sir, you like what you see.

Shall you watch or play? We aim to please.

You indicate without any compunction

A private room with no interruption.

You had your choice of blond or red head,

Caucasian, Asian but chose me instead.

(See, I happen to know he likes brunettes.

I need him to tell me why he digress.)

So, what I wondered, when you pushed up on me,

obviously intrigued and curiosity longing.

You've had four brunettes, your preferential inclination.

Yet, you chose something different; just my observation.

I am not a submissive, you're already aware.

We both like control and we both love a dare.

We push to the limits; take charge of every scene.

Both dominant personalities and observantly keen.

I don't do pain, a definite hard limit.

You crave to give pain, but can you withstand it?

So, clearly it seems we're at an impasse.

Undress. Now. Let me see that ass.

He's beautiful and golden. His body is slick!

And, he's got the most perfect 10 inch dick.

As thick as my arm and just as long,

Handsome and endowed; oh, this is just wrong

On so many levels and galactic planes.

He's the universal package, it's just insane.

A flawless male specimen to do as I please.

He's thinking, what's next. I can sense the intrigue.

Reading his face, I anticipate his question.

I usually don't fuck, but will make an exception.

Sit. In the chair. Hands at your side.

Rope or tape? Tell me. You decide.

Don't move or flinch, or the bindings will choke

and leave rope burns on your throat.

Relax and breathe; I'll blow you now.

You will not come or make a sound.

I try to take him between my lips.

But he's way too large, so I work the tip.

Use my hands for extra friction;

he's very close, so I give him permission.

No, and I don't swallow; so I spit it out

all over his chest and on his mouth.

I stand; slowly tease and undress.

His eyes are searing, his emotion's-a mess.

I straddle his lap and demand a kiss.

I taste the cum still on his lips.

I cut the rope around his neck

and demand that he tease and suck my breasts.

I'm in control, but he's a Dom and a man

and must always think he has the upper hand.

I grab a condom, ribbed, extra-large.

I'm willing him now to fuckin' take charge.

I'm hot and ready, soaking wet;

I ride his cock; he's a spastic wreck.

I slap his face. Once. Twice.

Don't move an inch…I'm telling you nice.

I move faster, riding his dick.

Mr. Grey, sir, you may come, again. Quick.

Just like that, I release his hands

he grabs my hips and up he stands.

Then down we go, prone on the bed

around his body I wrap my legs.

I top from the bottom, every demand he exploits.

I'm very obedient and deftly adroit.

Now, he pushes his cock in deep and hard.

The room is spinning and my vision goes dark.

Stop I command. Stand over there.

You must be punished. Just watch and stare.

I turn and face him, with legs open wide.

I finger my clit and rub my thighs.

Picking up the pace, rubbing hard and deep,

I draw in a breath and cannot speak.

Just as I'm there, almost over the top,

I'm snapped to reality when he orders me, stop!

In one fluid move, three steps to the bed,

he flips me over, grabs my hips, fucks me instead.

One hand around my neck, wrapped real tight.

My adrenaline accelerates; it's extreme delight.

Another hand around my belly, I'm aerial bound.

Into me relentlessly, he grinds and pounds.

He's fast, he's slow, then a long hard tease.

He comes. I come and gasp my release.

As our breathing slows to an even pace,

he pulls me gently around my waist

and lays me across his sweaty lap

and gives my ass 20 smacks.

To Mr. Grey, I finally acquiesce,

as my climaxes are intense and limitless.

Mr. Grey

I'd never been with an African –American woman, but I chose her because of her skills, a Domme, who doesn't humiliate and debase her Submissives. She's a switch and can top from the bottom, when required. If I like her, she can fulfill my every warped need. She has a lot of hard limits, though. She doesn't do pain. No French kissing; if I can't tongue her mouth, I'll tongue her everywhere else, if she allows me. Fuck, she doesn't swallow! But, the owner highly recommended her. Her psychology background would definitely be useful. If anyone could truly understand me and accept me as I am—all 50 shades of fucked up—it would be her. Sometimes, we choose this lifestyle; sometimes it chooses us. So, I am curious. Two very controlling, dominant people. How would that work?

She's dark. Her skin is shimmery and beautiful like Tahitian Black Pearls. Toned, slender muscles of someone who works out. But, her small frame makes her look fragile and very much underage. It's a momentary discomfort. Her hair is in a short cut; it could be a problem for me or it could just be … different. I'm stepping outside my comfort level.

She's wearing a red lacey G-string and corset ensemble, breast exposed with red coverings hiding her nipples and aureoles, strappy sandals with enough heel to add five inches to her height and dark stocking. No garters. She always dresses immaculately sexy in such delicate, expensive finery. I've bought enough lingerie to know.

I notice she's holding a walking cane; a strange prop, even for me to envision in role play. She's graceful, working the room, stopping for brief conversation, refusing every Dom who engages her, not paying much attention to the session playing out in the center floor. (A Dom is slowly fucking the mouth of a gorgeous, kneeling brunette. My dick throbs and I regroup.) She's walking towards me, closer, closer. I finish my Perrier and deposit my glass on the bar. I look down on the top of her head, lean in and caress her arm. "Good evening, Mr. Grey, sir."

Ah, she speaks.

The private room is intimately lit and smells of clean, potent oxygen. There are displays of condoms, the usual sex toys and numerous accoutrements. Various surfaces for fucking, or whatever the hell I choose to do with her, accentuate the room. When she orders me to undress, I start for the changing room, but her eyes dart to my feet and back up to my face, letting me know I am to strip bare right where I stand. I obey.

When she ties my hands to the sides of the high-backed chair, she uses thin satin rope. I'm amused. The knots are loose and I could probably free myself with one sharp tug. But, what the fuck! She slips a rope around my neck, forcing my head to the back of the chair and attaches the two ends of the neck rope to the rope from my wrists. I can't move my arms; I'll surely strangle myself.

I'm aroused and my dick is at attention when she tries to take me in her mouth. It's too much, so she focuses on the tip and her hands make up for what's lacking—stroking, squeezing, fondling. It's like three women down there. It's Submission 101, tease and denial, and class is in full session. I maintain control and I ejaculate only when she tells me to. She takes every drop then, SURPRISE, she spits out my cum all over me. It is an emotional rush that shoots straight from my groin, up through my torso, into my head and out my eyes. The sight of my cum spurting out of her small, puckered mouth, streaming airborne and still warm when it splashes on my body electrifies me. When she kisses my lips, I am so overwhelmed I'm unable to respond. Hell, I didn't realize she had removed the rope formerly restraining my neck. Then I see the cane on the floor, the handle removed, revealing it is a knife. (How? When did she do that?)

She's standing straddled over me and her breasts are mouth level, so I give them the attention they deserve. I pray she unties my wrists, soon. I need to touch her. But, I am hard again from her grinding and squirming in my lap, so she decides to ride my dick and can't get the condom on fast enough. Her cunt is like a rain forest and as tight as a virgin's. Mental note; she's very small inside. She's holding my arms, bucking up and down, initially very fast, then slowly and deliberately. Finally, just like that, her shoulders drop down and my hands are free, she tosses the ropes aside.

Now, it's my turn. I am taking control; or is she relinquishing? Roles are blurred. I lift her by the hips as I rise from the chair and fall over her onto the bed. I grab her legs and push them up into the air. They barely reach my shoulders, so she wraps them around my torso. She is completely waxed and, with her tiny physique, she has a prepubescent look. It's jarring, but she is a grown ass woman. For almost an hour she takes everything I give her like a well-trained Submissive. I refresh the condom and slide my cock back into her, finishing what she started. My pink dick, in stark contrast to her black pearl skin, seeing it disappear deep, deep into her and out again, is sensory overload.

I move her hand resting across her face, releasing tense fingers from her mouth. Eyes open, I order. I want to see her face, her always calm face. I want to fuck the calmness right off her face. But, she tells me to stop and stand over there. Like, just go stand any damn where! I do as I'm told and just stand … over there.

Oh, and stare.

I stare, indeed, as she lay in front of me pleasuring herself (and me). She moves her fingers around and around her beautiful clit; fingers go in and out of her pussy, fingers massage swollen nipples. It is one of the most erotic vision I have ever seen. I. Am. Mesmerized! She expertly plays her body like a musical instrument (and I am reminded of my fingers on my piano keys).

But, her climax should be mine. So, without thinking, I charge to her, flip her on her stomach, pull her ass into the air and I push my dick into her so fast and hard, I almost lose my hold on her hips. She doesn't move and takes all of me. No pushing into me; no matching my rhythm. She is such a contradiction, an enigma; it throws me off balance. I can't get a good read on her. OK, Grey. Now, you're overthinking. Just go with it; I convince myself.

She grabs her neck with her right hand. And, on cue, I follow her lead. As if given some unspoken instruction, I wrap my hand around her tiny neck, careful not to squeeze too tight, as her hand slips away. Who's in control, am I or is she? I wrap my other arm around her underbelly, lifting her 100 pound frame up higher, off the bed, fucking her in the air. I feel her come. She forces out a breath, inhales quickly and then she stops.

Stops. Breathing.

Her pussy tightens, as if it could become any more constricting. I come so hard, I'm dizzy. Finally, a deep, low "uhmmmmm" is the only sound she makes; she's breathing. I lower her onto the bed, releasing both hands as she descends. Like a fallen leaf in the wind, her upper body trembles, fingers and toes gently flutter through a continuum of orgasmic aftershocks. I gently kiss her neck and back, gradually calming her; then I lay her across my lap and spank her seven, 15, 20 times. Her arousal arouses me and I fall back on the bed exhausted and sated, her convulsing body still lying over my lap.