.
Chapter 2
Friday 6th May 2011
Ana's POV
It's nearly seven o'clock and I am standing outside of SIP waiting for Mr Silver… No, Mr Grey. Grey! Grey! Grey! I have spent the last two hours in the beauty salon having my fluffy bits waxed and my hair washed and blow dried. I returned to SIP to pick up my things from my locker and used the ladies just before I noticed Jack was still sitting at his desk. He took one look at me and huffed his annoyance, so I quickly left and here I stand, waiting for my knight in a black Armani suit to come by and whisk me off of my feet.
Jack has been very grumpy since I started and I noticed that Elizabeth Morgan has been overly pleased. I'm sure that he didn't pick me from the candidates for obvious reasons and this was all Ms Morgan's doing. I wonder if he dates his staff? Who would have such a grotesque man humping away at them? This puts me in a bad mood as Elizabeth must have hired me as 'I'm tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him.'
Fucking perfect skinny bitch! Does she think I would date such an asshole as my boss? He's positively geriatric. And you, Miss Austen, why do you keep encroaching into my modern, hopefully, kinky as shit, storyline?
I see a big black swanky car pull up and a man who's two foot wide, with a blond buzz cut gets out and opens the rear passenger door. He looks like GI Joe, but without the beard… the army uniform… or the gun. Oh, but then, what's that in his pocket? Mm? Maybe he did come ready loaded? I then see Mr Grey emerge from the rear, but he hits his head as he steps out. Ouch! He straightens himself out and rubs his crown, then flattens his hair, which has spiked up due to the arduous polishing of his head with the palm of his hand. He walks over and takes my hand. "Are you ready, Ana for short?" Blast! I have to tell him soon that it's not my name, but if I say 'just Ana', he'll start calling me that. He helps me into the back seat and he holds the top of my head as I duck down.
Hey, Grey! Get your hands off my hair! Can't you see I've just had it done especially for tonight at that swish Esclava place up the road?
He walks around the car and climbs into the other side, making sure his head is at least a foot away from the door frame by clambering in on his hands and knees. I look at Mr Buzz Cut GI Joe with a loaded gun in the front seat and assume he is the chauffeur, as he's in the driver's seat. Then it hits me, this man beside me is stinking rich. "So, where are we going, Mr Grey?" I stammer out as I come to the conclusion that he must be as rich as Mr Microsoft Windows.
"I have the penthouse at Escala. We will have dinner there." Oh god, a penthouse. That, I am not looking forward to.
"Is that similar to being the top floor of a really really overly tall building that sways in the wind?" I gasp. I'm no good with heights. I thought I had vertigo at one point, but I'm just scared of the distance between me and the ground… Acrophobia, they called it. But it's also that gravitational pull thing.
Splat!
Christian nods then he bends over me and he grabs my seat belt. His head is nearly in my breasts and all I want to do is grab his hair in my fists and thrust his face into my cleavage. He glances up and our eyes meet. I take a sharp intake of breath at his closeness, but this is something I shouldn't have done as my chest heaves out and I make contact with his face. He closes his eyes and quickly pulls away, almost hitting his head again on the interior roof of the car. "There, that's better!" he says as he eventually does my seatbelt up for me. His voice is weak, then he exhales out a deep breath as he sits back in his place. Wow, is he affected?
Christian's POV
Fucking hell, I nearly planted myself between them. This woman beside me is so tempting. Her big blue eyes sparkle like the Caribbean oceans, her silky brown hair tumbles down her back like liquid chocolate, and her breasts! I've never seen anything like them before unless they were 1000cc fake implants, but these look real… I mean they ain't got that funny fake bowling balls impression with a two-inch wide cleavage look about them. It's not just that, but she's the whole package. Plump and round, just as I like them. I'll need to pull as much control that I have from deep within me so that I don't grab her and pull her into my real playroom. I nearly let my secret out earlier, when I mentioned the playroom. I don't call it my playroom, I don't call it anything. All my submissives in the past have known it as just the room upstairs. I would say, 'I want you upstairs in fifteen minutes' and they knew what I meant. If anything it's the red room, not a play room as it's anything but. I am in control and my persona in that room is serious and I want nothing more than to dominate whoever is in there with me. I want her in there with me, but I wonder if she could handle it.
We make our way up to the penthouse. Ana for short is almost on the floor. She started to breathe oddly when we entered the elevator and I thought it was due to the closeness of our bodies and that she was turned on. I get that sometimes when I'm in a small space with a beautiful woman who flutters her fake eyelashes at me. But now looking at her, I'm sure she's having a nervous breakdown. "Ana for short? Are you okay?" I ask. She's virtually laying down on the floor, grasping onto the handrail for dear life.
"Yeah, it's the height. I know I can't see it, but there is a drop of a thousand feet below this very thin flimsy false floor. Lying down like this helps, as I'm distributing my weight out," she splutters with a great deal of anxiety.
"You have nothing to worry about," I say soothingly as I take her hand in mine. I help her up, but she oversteps herself and ends up in my arms. She's pressed against me and I shudder at the thought that her jugs are squashed against my no-go area, but to my surprise, it feels rather arousing. I pull her into me as I wrap my arms around her waist with an excuse that I am comforting her. I am not panicked at all and this itself has a profound effect on me. Maybe she is the one person in this world that can help me conquer my body abhorrence… with her tits.
"Oh I'm so sorry," she responds timidly. My body reacts to her closeness and the fact that she has turned rather passive in nature. I hold her hand tight in mine and lead her into the great room when the elevator doors open. "Fucking hells bells! This is all yours?" she sputters out as she makes her way into the apartment.
"Yep, I don't do anything by halves." That's true, I love things in whole portions unless I am breaking up a company to sell off piece by piece. Women I like as a portion and a half. Who needs a bag of bones when I could have a lovely round soft body to hold down. The thought of her bountiful flesh rippling as I pummel away makes my heart rate spike.
During our meal, Ana, which she now likes to be known as, confesses that her name isn't Ana for short after all. I am puzzled as to why she called herself that in the first place. I also tell her about some of my past. That my mother topped herself and due to her pimp's habits of stubbing his blasted cigar out on my chest, I can't stand anyone touching me there. I suddenly think of drawing a road map on me to show her where she has to steer clear from if we were ever to become intimate, but I don't have a red lipstick to hand. I take a rain-check on that idea until the Avon lady has delivered Mrs Jones' order, which always includes a harlot red lipstick. I am not sure why she buys that particular color as I've never seen her wear anything other than clear gloss. My thoughts turn to Taylor momentarily, but I shake that idea from my head and back to the situation in hand. Whatever he does in his own personal time is his choice. I have my lifestyle preference and it's obvious he has his.
After we finish eating our pasta carbonara, I take Ana upstairs and show her my 'not so shocking' playroom. As we enter, I get the impression that she's not very impressed with what I have. I don't know why as Elliot is in love with this room and it's difficult to prise him out of here when he does visit.
I know she is untouched, but I really hope that Ana is not too much of a purist when it eventually comes to sex, as I don't think I can let her walk away from me. Elena has, up until now, supplied my girls, but they are always not to my taste. Yeah, they are submissive enough, but there is just not enough of them. I can fuck anything, but they don't satisfy me to the full. Ana, on the other hand, would be the ideal playmate.
"I need to pee," she states. What is it with these girls? Don't they have any control over their bladders? They go into the lady's room at bars in pairs. Do they need each other to hold their handbags?… Oh, hang on, she may have an 'on' day. I forgot about her pimple, which she has now covered with makeup.
I tell her that there's a bathroom in the bedroom at the end of the corridor. It's the subs room, so she may as well use it as it will be her room when we do agree on an arrangement.
I wait for her in the PlayStation room, which I am now calling it, but I'm starting to wonder what she is doing? She's been gone ten minutes. I venture out into the corridor and notice the real playroom door is open.
Shit! She's seen what is in there. Holy fuck! How am I gonna explain this?
I gingerly walk towards the door and peer in. To my shock, Ana is on the bed, jumping up and down.
"Woohoo!" she yells out as she flings her arms around. "This is great! You should have said you had one of these!" I stand there, my jaw slackens and I can't breathe.
She fucking likes it!
"You got all the bits? Nipple clamps, vibrators and dildos?" she jumps a couple more times then bounces off the bed and lands on the floor in front of me. As she does, I notice her boobs have a life of their own and are moving all over the place. She comes to a still in front of me and looks up at me with that "you wanna play" expression, but I'm distracted from the hankering that has started to build inside of me by a jingling noise. It reminds me of the Mister Softee Ice cream truck that used to come around when I was a kid. I make a mental note to ask Mrs Jones to buy some vanilla soft scoop and all the paraphernalia that goes with making an ice cream cone. Then I wonder if it would be worth my while just buying up the franchise and arrange to have a small ice-cream parlor built into the corner of the apartment, maybe near the kitchen?
"Ana, you don't want to be in here with me. You have no idea what I am like in this room. This is my singular taste," I say with reluctance. I'd love for her to find out what I'm like as at this moment in time I am a raging bull ready to mount his mate.
Ana's POV
I make my way out of the bathroom and notice there is a door ajar in the hallway. Well, it's a door, not a jar as you can't keep jam in a door... Although you can have a jammed door… mm? This reminds me of Christian's chin yesterday and the big dollop of strawberry jam that I wanted to lick off. I shake my head trying to rid my naughty thoughts and make my way to the slightly open door as I'm a nosy cow. When I look inside, the first thing I sense is that it's really red. It's the light and it's making it feel like I'm in a giant womb… My initial thought is that I am in a photographer's dark room, just like what Jose has. Then I see that there are fucking sex toys everywhere, and the bed!
He's got a dungeon! Yipeee!
I have the urge to jump around on the bed like a bouncy castle, so I do. It does not take long before I see him at the door, standing on the threshold of the room staring at me in shock.
"Woohoo! This is great! You should have said you had one of these!" Fuck! We could have been here all evening. I jump down onto the floor and look up at him through my lashes, daring him on. He stares back, mouth open and I am not sure if he's happy with what I just did.
Shit! Did I assume too much? :( Maybe he only wanted friendship.
"Ana, you don't want to be in here with me. You don't know what I am like in this room. This is my singular taste."
Oh dear… He's not gonna come through with the goods! I knew it! The bloody media has brainwashed everyone into thinking that stick like figures are the sexiest. I should have been born in the fifties before Twiggy was invented. Then again, a man like Christian Grey, with all money and good looks, isn't gonna be attracted to just anyone. He will no doubt have super models hanging off of his every word.
Fuck it!
I pout at my defeat, but then remember he likes to play the dominant. This is his dungeon where he plays with his slave… a sex slave. I give it all and try and look submissive. I look at the floor before me and take a deep breath before falling to my knees. I've seen this on the porn channels and know what to do.
I hear him gasp, but he stays stock still. I don't look up. I dare not look up. I do, however, find my eyes wandering to his package, which is directly in front of me.
Bloody hell, he's got a big one.
I feel his hand on my head, and he begins to stroke my crown gently.
What am I, fucking Lassie? He's got a thing about the top of my head.
I must admit that his touch is sending signals to my lady bits and I know that I am now wet. "Ana, you don't want this, it's too soon?"
"Too soon? I am sure you have fucked strangers in those BDSM clubs you all go to. I've seen the porn channels and know what goes on in there."
"Yes I have, but you have not. Are you on the pill?"
"I took a hay fever tablet this morning, but that's since worn off as I can feel my nostrils beginning to itch again and I wanna ram a bottle cleaner up there and have a good scratch. Do you have any bottle cleaners in here for punishment purposes that I could use to rid my itch?"
"No, I don't have one. And I meant contraception." Jeez, am I that thick? I'm not thinking straight. It's the massive bulge of his cock in front of me that is scrambling my brain into mush.
"Oh… I can't have kids. I had to have a hysterectomy when I was seventeen," I explain. He looks sad. What is he sad for? I don't want kids and at least I don't have periods anymore, which halted my life for one week out of four. I still have to contend with PMT as I still have my ovaries. The doc didn't want me to get osteoporosis or that brittle bone disease and as the problem didn't affect that area, he left them in.
"But your pimple?"
"I still get those on the odd occasion. I have the egg factory, but not the incubator… I don't want kids anyway, I'm not maternal. All shit and vomit." Ergh. It's alright for the man, he can go out and leave me to deal with it all. Plus I will end up like a bucket. I've taken pride in my vagi-foo-foo and use Ben Wa Balls quite often to strengthen down there since my op.
He cups my chin in his hand and orders me to stand. Shit, this is it, we're gonna really do this. "You really want this?"
"Yes, or I would have run for the hills screaming when I opened the door. Which incidentally, should have been locked."
"Yeah, I will have to talk to Mrs Jones about that."
"Mrs Jones? Is she your slave too? Do you two come in here often?" I am almost deflated, he won't be monogamous.
"No! No! She is my housekeeper."
"You fuck your housekeeper‽ Doesn't that amount to sexual harassment in the workplace?"
"Ana, she just cleans in here."
"Argh! That's gross! She cleans up your creamy dumps."
"No, the sub cleans up my crea… any mess. She just polishes… Now we are getting off topic and I wanna get you out of those clothes," he says, eyeing me up and down. He watches my reaction as he peruses my body and an obvious grin forms when my breathing deepens and my breasts almost burst out of the confines of my top. I squeeze my thighs together, as I start to feel a delicious sensation between them. "Do you want to pee?" he asks softly.
"No, I just went," I whimper back at him. I am all a flutter. No one has ever looked at me the way he does and he's a bloody Adonis.
He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. "You are definitely sure about this?" he almost growls at me and I feel another surge of wetness developing.
"Yes," I whimper, my eyes flutter up to meet his and we stare at each other for quite some time before he speaks again.
"Then come to my office, as we have to sign an agreement with appropriate rules."
"Huh‽ Just bend me over that bench and slap my fat ass, Grey. Schmules to the rules."
"Are you defying me?" he says, cocking his brow at my obvious provocation.
"Yeah, what of it? Are you gonna punish me then, master? Fucking spank my chubby backside until it's beet red? Then stick that fat dick of yours into me until I cum?"
He looks at me with a gaze so intense that I feel my knees weaken under his scrutiny. His eyes sparkling with energy, but they are piercing my very soul and his look turns decidedly dark and undeniably carnal.
