AN

Yep, Christian is not happy with Ana one bit.

This chapter was quite difficult to write. It was hard to write a serious chapter with humour, but there are some funny bits in there... I hope. Let me know what you think.

Pinterest images have been added for this chapter along with a music youtube clip of the piano piece.

... He holds my head down, as I clamber into the R8. I feel myself get rather wet just thinking about our time in the playroom, but as I look at Christian beside me, he seems rather serious all of a sudden.

Mmm?

Christian's POV

We reach Escala twenty minutes later and Ana is fast asleep next to me. I'm thankful that she drifted off pretty quickly after I started the engine and was quietly snoring by the time I was zooming down the i9 towards home at illegal speeds.

I wanted to reprimand her. Shout at her for dismissing Sawyer so hastily and for being slack with her own safety. Anything could have happened to her. I'm not happy at the thought of those two guys eyeing her up and down as she lay there flat on her back with her legs in the air, even if they were gay. In fact, I'm fucking livid. I had to play happy-go-lucky just to get her out of the situation and offered her the playroom instead. Little did she know that deep down I was boiling with rage.

I park the R8 in its designated space and I turn off the engine. I don't move. I just listen to the car clicking and pinging as the hot metal of her bonnet contracts as the car cools. Spidey has been pushed to her limits on our ride home at a hundred miles an hour. She sighs in her overheated state and the bonnet flies open to let out the steam, which has built up within her core.

I know exactly how you feel, Spidey. I wish I could open myself up and take in the cool air from around me.

The engine hisses as she snarls at me for putting her through such a maddening pace, but I wanted to get Ana back to safety. Back to the confines of my penthouse at the top of the ivory tower, which overlooks Seattle. Besides the ride to Bellevue, my R8 has had life easy cruising around the city streets and has forgotten that she's a sports car, made for speed. Maybe I should take her out more often and push the metal to the floor once in a while.

I need to cool. I need to get a grip on how I'm feeling right now, as all I want to do is take Ana to the playroom and punish her for acting so carelessly. Anyone could have taken advantage of her in the state she was in. They could have seduced, loved, and taken her away from me. I could have lost her to another if she had wished it so. I'm only thankful that she was at a gay bar and the guys wouldn't hit on her. But what about the girls? I almost snarl at the thought of anyone; be they woman, man, gay or straight, touching what is mine! I have the monopoly on her heart, her body, and her love, as much as she has monopolized my entire life. I cannot think straight, as she now fills my existence. I'm drowning in Ana and it hurts to think that at a drop of a hat she could so easily abandon me for someone else. I can't let that happen. She's mine and I look after what is mine.

She's oblivious to the danger she's put herself into tonight. She went out to that bar in the middle of nowhere without her bodyguard and with Kate of all people. I should have known Kate would have left her stranded with no way of getting home. I'm just thankful she had her phone on so that I could track her whereabouts.

I look over to where she sleeps. She's smiling gently as she dreams, but she needs to wake up as life isn't all fluffy clouds and pink fairy dust. "Ana, we're here."

"H'are we home?" she grumbles, still in her drunken state. She looks so sweet when she's drunk, but I can't think of her deliciousness right now. All I can think of is the fact she could have been attacked tonight by some impaired glucose tolerant bastard only seeking out a sugar fix.

"Yeah, let's get you upstairs." Her eyes flutter open and she smiles sweetly at me, but I keep my serious face on, masking my melted insides as I look at her gazing back at me with such a sweet expression spread across her face. She's found my secret stash of Jet-Puffed spread in the glove compartment and has taken to smearing it all over herself.

God! Don't look at her with all that marshmallow fat-free creme spread across her face. You won't be able to stop yourself from licking it off of her, Grey. Get a grip of yourself or you'll crack.

I close my eyes to the temptation sitting beside me and I get out the car, but I bump my head as I stand.

Fuck! Why do I keep doing that? Is my head that big?

I hear a giggle from inside the car as I rub my crown, but ignore it as I walk around to the other side and open her door. She gets out, but staggers and falls against me. My instinct is to catch her and hold her close to me as I take indiscreet licks of her forehead and cheeks, which are sweetened by the fluff, but I can't have this. As soon as she's steady on her feet I push her away from me so that she's at arm's length. She needs to understand that I'm not happy one bit. She senses the distance and places her hands on my forearms and her head tilts against the back of my hand, which is holding onto her shoulder. She's wanting contact, but I can't give it to her, but at least I can lick my knuckles clean without her knowing of my desires.

"Come," I command as I push her in front of me. This allows me to slobber at the sweetness left behind and I suck each finger clean as she staggers to the elevator ahead. When we get into the suspended metal box, my eyes are drawn to the floor, but I can see from my far peripheral vision that she's looking at me with a bemused expression. I glance at her and she licks her lips so seductively, that I want to fuck her where she stands. I close my eyes and bow my head once more, gripping my teeth in the hopes that I don't cum in my pants.

When the doors open, I don't stop for anything and lead her upstairs to the playroom. She's too drunk to comprehend what is going on, so I will let her sleep for a while, whilst I try and calm myself. After cleaning the stickiness off of her face with a dominant's trusty wet wipe, which is so handy for all those little spillages, she proceeds to strip off her clothes. She's eager to get started, but I tell her to get into bed and go to sleep. She looks upset that I'm not gonna join her. How can I when I need to keep my wits about me and not end up a melted pile of Christian goo next to her? "I'll be back shortly. I'm just gonna get you some coffee."

"Can I have tea, bag h'on da shide and a potta-hotta water?"

"No, you're having coffee. You need to sober up, Ana."

"H'okay." Fuck, she's pouting. I wanna bite her bottom lip, which is now sticking out. I turn away from her pleading gaze and exit the room.

As I shut the door behind me, I lean against it with a sigh, but the fucking thing didn't click shut and I stumble back as it opens again and I fall flat on my ass. "Are ju h'okay, Chrisjun?" Ana's concerned and tries to scramble to her feet, but gets her foot caught in the red satin sheets and flops forward on the mattress and her face disappears into the folds of silken fabric.

"Umph!"

"Stay where you are, baby. I'm fine." I get up again and this time exit without incident.

Making my way down into the kitchen, I turn on the espresso machine. I think she needs strong coffee and so that I don't have to contend with trying to get a gallon of liquid down her throat, I think this is the best option. She may even think they are shots, which I assume from the smell of tequila, she's been drinking all night.

I take them back upstairs and place the tray down on the floor. Ana is still on her front with her face in the sheets. "Drink this," I assert as I hold a glass out. She turns over and I place the rim of the vessel against her lips, which has now cooled slightly. Ana takes a sip and pulls a face.

"Tastes yukie! I ain't dwinking dat." She pushes my hand away and I nearly spill it all down her front.

"DRINK!" I push the glass back into her hand as her eyes fly open. She now knows I'm not happy. She doesn't say a word, but her gaze swiftly moves across my face, as though she's taking in the whole of my fury one inch at a time. Handing the empty glass back to me, I hand her another, then after all four are consumed, she lays back down and closes her eyes. She still hasn't said a word when I leave her to sleep.

I head downstairs and do what I haven't done since I met Ana. I console myself with my music. Sitting down at my ridiculously expensive Faziola piano, I start to play Satie's Trois Gnossiennes. It's not a particularly sad piece and if I'm truthful, it reminds me of Omar Sharif in Doctor Zhivago. I don't know why I started to play this, but it brings me some amount of peace to the turmoil in my head.

As I come to the end of the first and start to play the second movement, I hear a scream from upstairs. I jump from my piano stool, but the fucking fall board slams down on my fingers. "Ouch!" I ignore the throbbing in my fingertips and run up the stairs, two at a time. I don't realize I've reached the top step as I continue to climb, which ends up with me doing some sort of airborne leap of faith before landing with a loud thud on the top landing.

Huh? I'm sure there were twenty-four steps? Did someone change my staircase when I wasn't looking? It does seem different. It was white with a filled in balustrade before, now it's brown with just a handrail.

I look around the rest of the great room and notice an abundance of sofas and chairs which weren't here before.

Where's my fucking love seat? Who's nicked my love seat?

I hear a cry from the playroom again and remember the reason why I sprinted up the stairs. Ana! I run towards the playroom door but bump into a chair, which has made its way into the hallway.

Where's my sage colored armchair? Why are there now two chairs here and what's with this dotty light sculpture thing on the wall? I didn't buy that. It looks like a fucking waiting room in some swanky art gallery now.

I grab the door handle as I hear yet another cry. This one, more intense than the previous. I hope Ana hasn't fallen out of bed and injured herself. I burst into the room and stop in my tracks. Horror fills my whole body as I watch the blood begin to smear across Ana's back.

She goes to take another swing and I quickly snap out of my daze. She's fucking self-flagellating with a flagrum! "ANA! STOP!"

I grab the medieval self-punishing religious whipping device before it comes into contact with her skin. "Bad girl! I'ma bad, bad girl!" she blubbers over and over again.

"What?! No, Ana. STOP!" I fall down by her side and take her into my arms. What the fuck was she doing? "Mazder, ju hangwee wif me. I naughty girl. Need pwunidgement."

"No, Ana, please." Shit, I was angry, but I intended on orgasm denial after she had sobered up. Not a fucking heavy punishment like this. This is all my fault. I left her in here with all these torture instruments hanging around. She was drunk and I just wanted her to sleep, but I should have realized she was gonna do something stupid. She's too mischievous to leave on her own.

I hold her in my arms as I gaze across her back. There are three lines of wounds. Not deep and more like small punctures, but they have broken the skin and there's blood. I'm just glad that she didn't find the flagrum with the blades. I look about the room and know that half of these instruments that adorn the walls need to go. The rows of cilice, the throat expanders, and thumbscrews. Even the stocks would be dangerous in her condition. She could black out and break her neck!

They will all have to go. I never even intended on using any of them and were only for show, for impact. How can Ana think they were there to be used?

She's crying in my arms, but I need to get her cleaned up so that I can see what damage she's done to herself. "Baby, I'm gonna take you to the bathroom and sort out your back."

"Whada matter wif my bach?"

"It's bleeding. What were you thinking of?" I cry out in desperation. I'm almost at breaking point.

"Ju hangwee. H'I could tell ju wannered to pwunidge me." What would make her think I would punish her like this?

"Baby, no! I was gonna just tease you with orgasm denial. I vowed never to break the skin when I punish."

"Den, why ju haf all dis?" she says looking around at the walls.

"Darling, it's like having art on the walls. I initially had it in here to put the heebiejeebies on my previous subs, but had no intention of using them. Now I see that they are nothing but reminders of my harsh past."

"Huh?"

"Oh darling, I've changed so much since knowing you. You have softened the hardened dom in me."

"But, ju… ju still pwunidge?"

"Yeah, soft punishments, which are more like foreplay. Baby, what I can do with a cane, or a heavy duty whip would make your eyes water."

"I bet dey made your h'eye water wif all cweamy yummy stuff." she grins. How the fuck can she see the funny side to this?

I hold her as I bring her to a stand and walk her into the sub's bathroom. Standing her under the shower, I turn on the water and see the clear liquid turn a brownish pink as it hits the shower tray. As the water cleanses her body, her skin is left with several small dots, where the wounds have started to already clot. They seem fairly superficial and am thankful that it is unlikely that they will scar, but I will make sure that her wounds are carefully treated with antiseptic cream and a corn plaster placed on each. I'll seek out medical advice if they start to look angry or inflamed.

I take my clothes off and get into the shower behind Ana. Turning her around in my arms, I hold her close to me. My hands on her shoulders, so not to touch her soreness. She leans into me and starts to sob as realization at what she's done hits her as she slowly sobers up. As I look down, I find my own courage begin to break and my body weakens as remorse sets in and saps my energy. I sink to the floor and take Ana with me. We stay in each other's hold in the bottom of the shower as we both relax into a mutual calmness. We huddle together as I form a resolution to my decision.

The playroom must go.