All right, folks. The chapters to finish this story are completed and I will be posting every day until this, the second installment of, It's Gonna Hurt, comes to a finish. So for all who despaired … be happy! HP

(Author's Note. Summary of the last chapter: Christian takes Ana off to Bora Bora where he works to fulfill their school girl/school teacher fantasy. Ana realizes that Christian sees her as a Sub in the bedroom and that she is indeed submissively satisfying his needs as she allows him to lightly whip her and take her anally. Christian still fights with separating his long-established Sub patterns from Anastasia as the woman he loves, breaking Dominant persona repeatedly while still achieving his end (get it?) goal. And now back to our story. Thanks for reading! HP)

"You were wonderful." Christian is whispering to me as we float together in the villa's pool. The water is bathtub warm, salty, very relaxing. "So sweet."

My head rests on his shoulder, my hair wrapping us as he circles and moves through the water as if in a dance. Above us the moon glows golden and the panorama of stars is highlighted by clouds seeming to be twining among them. "My bottom hurts."

His hand moves from my hip to my butt, stroking gently. "Do you want some more Advil?"

Hmmm. Four Motrin I took earlier, two Advil Christian gave me right before we came to the pool from the shower, whatever those white pills were Friday night from Mrs. Jones, and various alcohol since early this morning. I probably need a rehab center. "Not right now. I'm good."

Christian chuckles, still stroking. "Was it good for you, Anastasia?"

Is this Christian wanting reassurance? Does a Sub praise her Dominant after a scene? Huh. I forgot to study up on that part. "It hurt.", I repeat the complaint. I guess I should say it felt like he'd ripped me open and I'm amazed I'm not bleeding like a gushing fountain. I guess that Elbow Grease really worked.

"You came," he points out calmly, not one iota repentant in his conquest of my bottom, pressing kisses along my temple. "Spectacularly."

Ok, I get it. This must be where we exchange compliments, the wrap up, so to speak. "Yes. I always do." I can't deny that. But my point is … "Will it always hurt like that, Christian?"

"We'll work on it," he murmurs, not answering the question. "I love that you've given yourself to me, in every way, Anastasia."

I look up at the stars, the moon. That wasn't exactly an answer, or maybe mine had been a stupid question. "This is so romantic and I'll never forget how beautiful this place, this night, is. Christian, I should comment here that fisting of any kind is a forever hard limit." I don't even blush with that sentence because some things just need to be in black and white print.

"Got it." His lips move to my ear. "Anastasia, come back to Escala. I tore the Playroom out. We'll design our own Playroom, one with no bad memories."

I'm probably costing him a fortune renting out the Fairmont suites. Which reminds my Inner Goddess … How many pairs of shoes do I get to keep for what just happened? Mmmm. Ten? Sounds like a number to me. "You turned me on no end looking like a dorky, hot school teacher." My Conscience applauds loudly. It's a sandwich thing. Compliment, get the point across, compliment. Her point? You try and put your fist somewhere, Grey, I'm taking a machete to your equipment.

He growls in my ear. "Focus, baby. Escala?"

"Christian, I projectile vomited on Taylor."

"We'll do it slowly, in little baby steps." Christian lets my legs slide down his and turns me so he has me in his muscular arms, those silvery eyes on mine. Being tall, his feet are on the bottom while mine bump his knees. I can feel him, hard between us, a thick steel instrument between our belly buttons. "I need you again," he grates just before yanking my head back and ravaging my mouth.

I love Ravaging Christian. As if to make up time from where he waited this entire day to be inside of me, Christian reaches between us, tests for my readiness and positions himself so he can slide home. I hold onto his wet hair tight – this doesn't hurt like what we just did in the classroom, but he's still big and I'm still wincing. Then I adjust and just hold on as Christian slides in and out of me. The water is buoyant, silky around our bodies. I focus on what I am feeling, bending my neck so my forehead rests on his strong shoulder. Whiffs of his aftershave, still clinging to his throat despite the water, fill me and I can't help but place my lips over his pulse there. The continual steady thrust and withdrawal is forceful, dominant. But not Dominant. I breathe shakily as the muscles in my stomach tighten and I feel the trembling of my inner thighs near where they join my pelvis. And then it happens.

Orgasm. Kate tried to tell me about them, gave me books, magazines and emailed me websites. But until you have one, like a really shooting-an-astronaut-to-the-moon orgasm, there is no comparison. It's like saying spaghetti tastes good based on a commercial for Ragu – you don't know until you have the dish. Christian makes really good spaghetti. Apparently I do, too as Christian repeats my name huskily until, with a final shout of "Anastasia!", he fills me with his very essence.

Afterwards, Christian decided to do laps and I head in to the villa to apply a discrete plunger of hemorrhoid cream then work on blow-drying my hair. Moisturized, I slip on a simple pink taffy La Perla chemise. Then it is, finally, bed. I sleepily watch the moon, stars, clouds, and ocean from the large bed until Christian comes in.

I have to admire him as he towels himself dry. He has muscle upon lithe muscle down his chest to where he has a light covering of red-gold curls starting in a line from his belly button down to his groin. There isn't an ounce of fat on him, which makes me frown.

"What?" Now Christian's frowning and I realize that he was performing for me, taking his time drying. Also, he's up again. Does the man never quit?

"Why do you work out so much?"

Christian's frown lessens and he picks up the towel and tosses it into a hamper right inside the bathroom door. My Neat Fifty. Then he comes to bed, tugging me so we are spooned and facing the open doors, watching the beauty of the night and ocean together. His erection presses between my butt cheeks, both arms surrounding me, our heads on fat, firm pillows. "Because it gives me ultimate control over my body. The offer is still open for you to have a personal trainer," he murmurs in my ear, kissing it, nuzzling behind the lobe and then suckling and nipping. I'm beginning to think he's obsessed with my ears. Then I process what he just said.

Those extra pounds are probably driving him crazy. I set that issue aside and jump right in to trying to ruin the weekend. When you're good at something, like upsetting a man, you just have to show off. "Why was it so important to you to ass fuck me, Christian?"

His arms tighten, a clutch, and then slowly ease to an acceptable non-bone crushing hold. "It's a way of claiming you. First, last," I feel his shrug, "always. My act of dominance, yours of submission." He pauses, and then sighs. "Was there anything about it you liked, Anastasia?"

Now we're getting somewhere. I smile to myself, rub my hair against his chest. The moon is reflecting off the water, a glorious exotic view with the breeze playing over us, somehow eternally different from an ocean view in Seattle. "I love how you had the costumes all ready for me. I thought the progression was amazing. The spankings were exciting." I turn my head and kiss his shoulder. "Thank you for not using the ruler or tawse. And for reassuring me when I was afraid."

Once more his lips feather my ear, tickling. "You're welcome. What else?"

Jeez, he really needs reassurance here. "I love how you role play. How we role played. I've never done that before. Well, you know what I mean." I can feel the blush starting.

"I haven't either. You didn't safe word."

I hear the question in that statement. My face is completely hot now. Why did I start this post-sex discussion? Oh yeah, because I'm masochistic! No way am I telling Christian I watched a vid on the Blackberry of a guy who was like deformed size doing a girl, then a black dildo attached to a pumping machine banging into a girl who was tied up with what looked like a contraption to hold a car up while the motor is being worked on … and several others while I was doing my first ever enema. "I should have after the first time I felt that belt. And I should have when you had me tied up and I knew you wanted to make me pee." He's gone very still, not even breathing. I watch some kind of night birds flying out over the glowing moonlit ocean. "But I didn't need to this time."

He sips in a breath, and then gets in a lungful, pushing my body with the strong movement of his chest. "I've done a lot of things in my life that I could look back on and wish I hadn't. But I can't. I won't. It's not productive. It's useless to think of something you can't change. But, if I could … if I could go back in time, I would change everything about us."

Well that can't be good. I make a face, open my mouth –

"Shh. Let me say this." Christian turns us – he's so bossy in bed and I don't mean about sex – until I'm on my back and he's leaning over me. I can clearly see his face, his eyes gleam a dark slate, that red hair falling down to tease his cheeks like a messy, sexy curtain. He stares down at me, eyes serious. "I'd help you to your feet when you fell into my office. I'd get you a cup of tea, just as you like it. Well, I'd make Andrea get it. Then I'd talk to you, not look you over like a potential acquisition. And then I'd take you out for lunch. No, I'd ask you out for lunch," he corrects himself, leans in to give me a soft kiss, his lips brushing back and forth over mine. "I'd treat you like the princess you are. And I would never, NEVER, have hurt you like that."

And yet he knows it hurt when he took me anally, and I know he enjoyed that as much as the feelings he got being inside me. I look up at Christian and admit to myself that this game I'm playing, trying to change him from a cruel bastard into something gentler, is either useless or going to take a lifetime.

And maybe I liked that pain. Not completely. NO way. But Christian was right; I got one hell of an orgasm out of it. There's a thought to flinch from. I give my head a quick shake to clear that thought, and then tap him firmly on the nose with one finger. "I would have made you work harder before I slept with you again. Both times."

That makes Christian grin as he captures my finger, bites. But then the grin slips away and he guides my hand into his hair. "I would have told you I loved you first." This time the kiss is longer, deeper. His fingers stroke through my hair, over my shoulder, caressing down my side then back up until he cups my breast, thumb rubbing over my nipple which immediately peaks and begs for his attention.

My entire body craves him immediately. Again. He ends the kiss, looks at me with hungry eyes. I feel the words spill from my lips, "I love you."

Christian smiles, shakes his head. "Straight vanilla this time, Anastasia. My Anastasia. For always and forever You. Are. My. Anastasia."