Chapter 1

Christian's POV: The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

"Sir, may I speak?"

My submissive is sitting across the table from me and we're just finishing a lovely dinner Gail prepared for us. I feel expansive even though Jade had disobeyed one of my primary directives this past week. I learned from Sawyer who is charged with her security that she stepped out to dinner on Wednesday with another man—one of an age and disposition so as to be a potential romantic candidate. As per our agreement, she is not permitted to see any man who is not a relative at any time during our arrangement unless she secures my prior approval. She did not.

What brings me up short is my reaction: I tend to be a very jealous man; however, I find myself angrier by the disrespect she showed me than jealous over any potential rival for her attentions.

Right now, however, I'm actually grateful for her transgression for it provided the justification for punishment and I'd been feeling the need to wield one of the canes that hang prominently on the rear wall in my dungeon. Last night I exorcised the demons riding my shoulders so relentlessly of late, and was well within my contractual rights to do so.

At six o'clock on the dot I heard the soft ding announcing the arrival of the elevator and pictured the silent swish of the opening doors. I met her at the threshold of the great room.

"In the dungeon in ten minutes," is all I said, no greeting, not even a smile of welcome. My anger at her disrespect was fueling me but I will never allow it to control me in my playroom—it's too dangerous. Being a Dominant is all about control so I practiced my breathing exercises to wrest the calm I needed from the mayhem swirling in my head.

I'd been ready for the last hour so the final few minutes were torturously protracted but finally the ten minutes were up and I entered the room. Jade was in place, naked, her face down.

"Stand and follow me," I said curtly and turned, heading over to the couch on the other side of the room. Once there I turned her around and bound her wrists behind her back, then spun her around and sat down on the couch. "Kneel."

She dropped to her knees in front of me and I took out my cock and put one hand on the nape of her neck, pulling her head forward. When it was close enough, I tapped the head of it on her lips and she opened. I yanked her mouth down my cock and leaned back. Jade is good at giving head but she likes to have her hands free and that's why I bound them. She also dislikes deepthroating so I ensured that I hit the back of her throat a few times. She was in need of reminding of who's in control in this TPE so I felt it necessary to push her limits aggressively.

"Ah," the moan escaped me before I could swallow it. My orgasm approached and though I wanted to push it back, I needed to continue the reminder. Just before I came, I pulled out of her mouth with a loud, wet pop and fisting the base of my cock, spurted hot semen all over her face. I made sure it was everywhere but near her eyes and then I took two fingers and finger-painted over almost every inch of her face.

"Get up." When she complied I grasped her elbow and led her to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the corner. Going up close I reached up to shine the light directly onto her face. The semen hadn't dried yet so it was glistening on her cheeks and some was now dripping down her neck.

"Look in the mirror and tell me what you see, Jade."

She straightened her back. "I see myself, sir."

"And what's on your face?"

"Your ejaculate, sir."

"Why did I come all over your face, Jade?"

Silence. Then… "Because you wanted to, sir."

I leaned in close and growled in her ear, "I marked you, Jade, to remind you that you belong to me. You are not free to see whomever you wish. You are mine. Am I perfectly clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now you will wear my come until the end of the night. Follow me now to the cross."

Meekly she followed and I quickly strapped her in. I had originally planned a suspension scene for this weekend but I was much too agitated to commit to such a labor-intensive prep. I wanted to beat and fuck her too badly. When she was tethered to the St. Andrew's cross, her back toward me, I reached for the Hitachi and took it to her clit mercilessly, no warning, no warm-up. It's a powerful vibrator and I knew it hurt at first but soon enough she was wriggling in pleasure. When her muscles began to contract, I removed it.

"Good girl," I murmured as she bit back her moan of frustration. She was in for quite a ride tonight though. I ran the vibrator up and down her legs, up the crack of her ass, up her spine until goose bumps emerged. When I was sure her orgasm had receded, I took it to her clit again, putting it on a faster speed and when she got close, slowed it way the fuck down. Up and down, up and down until her impressive control was shredded and she shrieked in frustration and discomfort. Behind my zipper my cock bobbed for attention at the sound.

Allowing my lips to touch the shell of her ear, I whispered, "Your pleasure is at my discretion. Do you think I should allow it to you?"

"Only if you think so, sir."

"Hmm, good answer. Almost too good. But I asked for your opinion. Do you think you deserve pleasure, Jade?"

"No, sir."

"Then we're in agreement." I put down the vibrator and picked up the cane. Before I did anything else, I wrapped the black silk blindfold around her eyes; it would increase the intensity of her pain and prevent any distraction. This punishment hopefully would be remembered and she wouldn't make the same mistake again.

"I do not share," I announced loudly, and on the tail of that declaration I let loose with a barrage of swats, waiting only for the pain to bloom before giving her the next. I started with her ass, first the left cheek, then the right. Then both together but low, at the top of her thighs. That hurts the most and she cried loudly on that one. After swatting each outer thigh, I decided she'd had enough; five would keep her remembering all weekend, as the cane was the wickedest of all the implements.

I kept her in position on the cross. Tossing the cane down and reaching both hands up to hold her corresponding wrists, I fucked her hard from behind. My hand snaked around to her clit, and my fingers began their assault. She was so primed and ready that I knew it wouldn't take much to push her over but I still wasn't sure if I'd allow it.

"You do not have my permission to come, Jade. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," she panted and I knew she was seconds away so I removed my hand and kept pumping hard into her. Jade was never able to reach orgasm through penetrative sex so the only way she'd come was with my hand on her clit. About to reach my own crisis point, I decided to be generous. My fingers found her clit again and pinched hard. The scream of her orgasm was so loud I suspected the pilots in the planes over my building must have been privy to it. That scream alone brought me to my own climax and I hung on to her wrists while I jerked my hips and emptied everything I had into her.

So tonight, the satisfaction of her punishment last night still in attendance, I indulge her.

"As we are still having dinner, you may speak freely, Jade."

"Thank you, sir. I have to attend a wedding the weekend after next. Since it is during our contractual time I wondered if you would mind accompanying me as my plus-one?"

Taken aback by her temerity, I stare at her for a full minute before responding. "Jade, you know we are never seen in public together. Moreover, why am I hearing about it only now? Surely you knew about the date well in advance, and the fact that it would intrude on my time?"

She flushes, her focus drops to the floor. On the surface her submission is perfect but I'm beginning to learn otherwise. "I apologize for the late notice, sir. I wasn't planning on going but my parents became angry with me when I informed them I wouldn't be in attendance. The bride is my only first cousin and they want me there."

"I see. I will expect you to make up the missed day during the week, as I'm sure you are aware."

She nods. "Your answer then is no to attending with me, sir?"

"Of course my answer is no."

Her eyes flash hotly for a moment and then it's gone. "May I take someone else then, sir?"

Through narrowed eyes I observe her. Is she interested in this man she spent time with last week? Is that what this is all about? I clear my throat. "Jade, this man, Chase Palmer, are you romantically interested in him?"

"No, not in him, sir." Boldly she looks me directly in the eye. She intentionally put the emphasis on the male pronoun—it wasn't a slip of the tongue by any means. My heart starts to thud, the first sign of an impending anxiety attack.

"Then in whom are you interested, Jade?" I ask, knowing the answer already and the necessary consequence. It's not as if I haven't been down this tired old road many times before.

"You, sir."

"To clarify, are you telling me you've developed some kind of emotional attachment to me, Jade?"

"Yes, sir," she says in a voice devoid of breath.

I sit back, actually relieved it was direct and quick, and I feel the approaching wave of anxiety begin to recede. When this happened with previous submissives I waited until the weekend was concluded to terminate the contract. During the following week, they'd be notified in writing via courier. I would include any and all deeds if applicable, of any automobile or real estate I'd purchased for them. Their clothing left at my penthouse and any other personal belongings would be professionally packed and shipped to their home address along with a reminder that the NDA would remain in force permanently and that all gifts were contingent upon the continued honoring of that non-disclosure agreement.

With Jade I deviate from the norm primarily because I know she's always calm, never given to temper tantrums or hysteria of any stripe. Though I was looking forward to the rest of the weekend with her, I am too unsettled by her admission to care about forgoing the satisfaction. Since I'm not saying anything in response to her outrageous admission, she rises gracefully to her feet and begins clearing the table of dishes. I do nothing but watch her silently, waiting for her to return to the table, which she does shortly.

That's when I get up, walk briskly into my office, and retrieve the original signed contract from my locked desk drawer. I stride back into the great room where she is now perched on the edge of the long sofa, her face chalky white, her hands twisting together. It is the only sign that she is discomfited.

When I am directly in front of her and have her complete attention, I show her what I'm holding and then proceed to tear the document into two pieces and then four. Her face goes whiter still.

"Jade, I am terminating our contract as of," I look at my watch, "seven-thirty p.m. tonight, May 22nd, 2015. Any and all of your personal property that is currently in your bedroom or around the apartment will be shortly returned to you at your home address. I want to thank you for sharing your submission with me. It was a gift that I very much appreciated and I wish you good luck in the future. Whether you choose to continue in this lifestyle or not, I do hope you look back fondly on our time together."

I call for Taylor. "Please gather your belongings now. Taylor will drive you home."

The most painful part of the break is upon me as I'm forced to watch her stand up on shaky legs and scan the room, looking for the things she brought with her last night and casually left in the great room: her bag, her sweater, and her cellphone. She has yet to utter a single word or even sound. I give her credit for keeping it together, her fortitude the only reason I felt confident in doing this in person with her. Scouring my recollection, I'm almost sure it is the only time I handled a termination in this impulsive manner. Seeing her stricken face makes me almost regret doing it in such a way: I do not like to suffer, nor do I enjoy causing others to suffer, outside of a scene.

...

"This is Grey."

"Christian?"

I sigh. "Who else would be answering my personal cell phone? What can I do for you, Elliot?"

"You're not the only Grey, you know. Could be Dad answering your phone."

"Talk or I'm hanging up."

"Fine. Are you free on Friday night?"

"Why?" I can hear the suspicion thick in my own voice and it makes me snicker. I don't trust my brother.

"I need you to do me a favor, bro. You remember Talia? Talia Jansen?"

"Vaguely. What about her?" I've taken the call in my car and I'm about to arrive home—I want to bring him to his point.

"She's been a solid friend to me of late—a reliable sounding board. Shit of it is, I've been in need of one. Anyway, she needs to pay off a few bills and her family is pretty much bankrupt so she's taking on high-end escort work. Very nervous about it. She has to go to this party and asked me to show up for moral support. Show interest in her in case no one else does—which I'm sure won't happen but she's hedging her bets. It's a swanky address… might be fun."

My pulse quickens. As soon as he said high-end escorts, swanky address, I knew he had to be referring to Irina's. Shit. I keep my voice level. "Why don't you just pay her bills? You have the money."

"I tried; she won't hear of it."

Deep breath. "All right. How does it involve me?"

"I thought you would come with. I want to help her out but honestly I feel weird about it myself. I figured if you come along, I'd feel better. Strength in numbers. It might be fun. If not, it's sure to be educational."

Checking my rearview I see a car behind me that's been following me for a half mile. Rather than pulling into my garage, I drive another two blocks and loop around. I lose the black Acura on the first half of the loop. Just wrought nerves.

Interpreting my silence as refusal, Elliot makes a sound of annoyance that travels fiber-optically to where I sit. "How many times do I ask you for a favor, Christian?"

"All right, fine. I just don't see what the problem is. You're a big boy."

"One of the problems is the fact that I probably have a few exes represented on that escort line-up."

"Pfft. Well, I don't want to slut-shame but…"

"Then shut up and don't. Look, I just don't want to go alone. Will you or won't you, fucktard?"

I sigh. "What time on Friday?"

I can hear the smug grin in his damn voice when he answers, "Pick me up at seven-thirty. I think the meet and greet starts at eight. Thanks, bro."

I disconnect before I say, "Yeah, well fuck you too." What a pain Elliot can be. Since we were children, Elliot was always trying to forge a closer relationship with me, emulating his older brother but my damage was set in by the time he was born so I always discouraged it.

As I exit the car I catch a glimpse of a slim brunette from the corner of my eye and suddenly she's there in my brain again, that woman. My God, I saw her once and for a fraction of a second at that and she's been haunting me ever since. She walked by my table at Dashiell's, gliding by like a swan on still water, and just like that I couldn't evict her from my head.

My date that night was mediocre at best— the food bland and the conversation more so. It served me right to suffer another dimwit model since I only asked her out based on her cool blonde good looks. But then she happened by and I followed, leaving the table in all but my physical body.

Who was she?

Fortunately for me, it didn't take Welch long to find out. She'd been with a large party at the eatery—a graduation party we later learned—so determining her identity took all of two days and a hefty tip to the maître d' on duty that night. I fucking love having boatloads of money.

I had her name but what to do with it? It was highly unlikely that she was in the lifestyle though at first I convinced myself she must be and that I had seen her around. Why else would she hold such instant fascination for me?

To say the feelings she induced in me were unsettling was like saying hell was tropical. I ordered a full report on the girl and tried to get on with my life but every night she had the starring role in my dreams. The upside was when I had such dreams I couldn't have nightmares, so pining over a woman I'd never met felt like a godsend compared to the suffocating black closets of my nightmares.

What the fuck was going on with me?

Once I'm in my apartment I punch in Irina's private cell number and she answers on the top of the second ring. "Hello, my lovely."

"Irina, have a bit of a ticklish situation."

"Oh?"

"It appears that one of my brother's friends is in your new chorus line of escorts. She asked Elliot if he would show up at Friday's gala… to use Elliot's words, for moral support. Elliot also requires moral support, apparently, and asked me to accompany him."

Irina laughs, a clear musical tone that most would find lovely but it sends ice up my spine. "I see. Don't worry, love. You'll all be wearing masks and it's by invitation only. I'm not sure how your Elliot snagged an invite but just about every invited client is on the VIP list with few exceptions. Privacy will be guarded and no one is in the habit of acknowledging or outing anyone else—you know that."

"Yes, but I wanted to give you a heads up."

"Duly noted. Will you stay for the late play afterward?"

"Yes, I think I will. It's time I started casting about for a new submissive, I think."

"Would you like me to do some prelim for you?"

"No. Thank you but no. I might just watch some scenes and look around initially."

"Fine, darling. Looking forward…"

Gail rings me for dinner just as I'm trying to decide between collapsing into a comfortable chair to listen to music or heading to the music conservatory to play my own. Music always feeds my soul especially when I've had a shitty day at work and today qualified, possibly going into the annals of shitdom. I head into the dining room.

"Mr. Grey, would you like wine or mineral water with dinner?"

"Both, I think. Gail, can you make sure that Janie cleans all the rooms on the bottom floor, including the locked one, before Friday? You have the code: you may open it for her when you're both here."

"Of course, Mr. Grey," she says as she expertly decants the wine and pours the mineral water. "Enjoy your dinner, sir."

I nod and she is dismissed. I've decided to be optimistic about finding a new sub at Irina's soiree. It's been two long months of celibacy and no matter how punishing my workouts, I'm beginning to feel the desperate itch to indulge in my personal brand of sin. I have to find a willing sub even if I'm forced to lower my standards a half inch.

...

Tonight came the nightmare, the first one in almost three weeks. I'm young and alone. It's dark, black really, and I'm scared, cold, hungry, upset. Forgotten and neglected. Completely ignored. I'm sure my birth mother was the genesis for all my nightmares. Even her extreme domineering behavior felt like love to me when compared to those other times, those times when she was otherwise engaged. Too busy to remember she had a little boy who was desperate for attention, for love, for a taste of the milk of human kindness. Even my father doesn't know the things I do about my birth mother, the fucking whore. Carrick doesn't deserve such corrosive knowledge, the kind that eats away at your guts until there's nothing left but an ulcerated sore. No, it's something that I bear alone.

It's why I never let emotion infiltrate my sexual liaisons. I've been on the short end of a relationship supposedly based on attachment—I'm never going there again.

And that's precisely the catalyst for my allowing no emotional involvement in my D/s relationships. As soon as I suspect any creeping in, it's all over. It's also why I've been so disturbed by my extreme reaction to a beautiful woman with long dark hair sashaying past my restaurant table. What the hell is wrong with me?

...

We don our masks the moment the valet drives off with my car. I hear Elliot's nervous chuckle as he covers his face and I inwardly smile, thinking how much he has in store for him this evening. Irina greets us at the door, showing me no more attention than anyone else. She's always been a consummate actress when necessary.

I switch on my public persona. Most people probably consider it just this side of civil but from my perspective it's downright gregarious. Manners are important to some but action is what drives me, taking precedence over all. I cannot suffer fools and I don't waste time on pleasantries when I could be getting things done. Still I've learned to make an effort at the social graces in order to flourish. Everything in life hinges on tradeoffs. Successful people learn that fact early.

Drinks in hand we are led into the ballroom. I'm looking forward to conversing with the escorts, many of whom are submissives in our lifestyle—Irina sees to that, poaching from clubs and private parties to ensure a continuous supply for the VIP Doms that number among her elite clientele. I will have to at some point separate from Elliot—he has no inkling of my secret life and I prefer to keep it that way.

I spot a young woman who captures my interest right away. She has long straight black hair that I can twist several times around my wrist—a Dom's readymade leash—and she looks to have some Asian blood. A very pretty woman, I think, as I saunter in her direction. Until I reach the leathersex room, however, I'll keep the conversation general and clean. Once I get to the private party later tonight, I'll start my hunt for a new sub in earnest.

Every time I think of making that new acquisition, inking that new contract, rather than the exhilaration I usually feel igniting fire in my blood at the prospect of a new woman to fuck, the beautiful mystery girl materializes in my mind's eye. Wouldn't it be perfect if she were submissive? I can so easily picture her arranged seductively on my blood-red leather bench, her ivory skin glowing in sharp contrast.

One thing that sends me thrills without fail is having a conversation with a woman I've never met before with no holds barred. I can walk up to a submissive, force her to look me in the eye, and in a conversational tone ask her about hard limits involving my cock and her pussy or anything else on her body. Even though many submissives are seasoned in the lifestyle, that kind of initial boldness always garners me an unintentional gasp or two and I derive extreme satisfaction from it. Well, that and knowing that I'll fuck her before the night is out and fuck her twenty ways from Sunday. Ever since I saw the woman in the restaurant I've imagined having such a conversation with her, watching her eyes widen and her cheeks turn pink. It gets me hard just envisioning it. But then I feel something akin to guilt ruin the fantasy, for taking an angel like that down into the dirt with me. The woman's even ruined my fantasies.

Tonight I need to keep in mind that I'm here with Elliot. Though I'm not in the market for an escort, I play the game I'm here for. Cammie is the Asian woman's name and we briefly discuss her escort contract limitations. By the way her eyes are devouring me, I suspect Cammie is more than interested in my being a client. After a minute or so of back and forth, I wish her a good evening and move on but before I get very far, Elliot is at my elbow, wide-eyed and drooling over the assortment of women. He hands me a flute of champagne and I take a minute to allow my eyes to roam the room.

And there she is.

All the oxygen leaves the room until I'm breathless. She's in blue, a vivid blue, and I'm frozen in place. Anastasia Steel is her name, if Welch's report is accurate and it always is. A beautiful name for a devastatingly beautiful woman. Elliot sees where my gaze is laser-focused and tugs my arm.

"Come on. Let's go meet her."

A/N: Just a note to let you know that I have a concurrent story called Ripple Effects on FF that parallels this one, only it's told from Ana's POV and is much further into the story. :)