I'd like to thank Thirst who lets me bend her ear and my friends and fellow long-sufferers at the Boot Camp.
A/N: In which Leila misses the point. Again. I thought she was an artist.
Oh. My. God! That's Christian Grey! Christian Grey is a Dominant. I couldn't believe it. BDSM really is made up of all kinds. I guess I shouldn't judge. Until I'd met him in the flesh, I'd still had a hard time believing that this was real. Some subspace-induced fantasy or a cruel trick contrived by Mistress to punish me for tainting the goods.
The man that's penetrated, whipped, fucked and dominated me in a myriad of ways for the past month is the Christian Grey! The man who fucked me for hours, giving me orgasm after orgasm until I've passed out more than once is Christian fucking Grey! He works hard and plays even harder, but no-one would ever guess. Especially since the first thing he made me do, sight unseen, was to sign an iron-clad nondisclosure agreement.
"Your trial period is over. We already fulfilled the trial contract. If you accept, I'd like for you to look over this final contract, initial and date any proposed changes and sign the contract," he states coolly, handing me a thick packet of documents.
His hard and soft limits match up pretty well with mine, though I remain intrigued by his addition of touching him without permission as a hard limit. Mistress has instructed me to never breach this particular hard limit, or even attempt to bring it up in discussion, as this could result in immediate severing of the contract. He has assigned me a room as we will not be sharing a bed outside of a scene, and will never share his bed for any reason. I'm prohibited from even entering his bedroom.
I'd always had the habit of memorializing some of my past interactions, but his security is always performing sweeps of his cars and apartments, so I've never been able to mount my mini-cam. Besides, who'd want to blow a sweet setup like this? Although I'd love to track down the asswipe who gave me chlamydia. We fucked until he ran out of condoms, and I foolishly allowed him a bareback ride or two for which I've atoned this past month.
Until now, his CPO has accompanied me each time I entered or exited Sir's residence no matter the time of day. He is ghost-like. His supernatural stealth perturbs me, leaving me shaken. He never speaks to me unless I ask a question to which I'm allowed to know the answer. He doesn't make polite conversation or participate in idle chitchat. I get the feeling that I'm invisible as far as he's concerned. He doesn't look at me as much as through me.
He's entered the playroom several times in the past two weeks, and no matter what position we're found in, or what we are doing, he responds as if he just caught us sharing coffee. I was on the sex swing with him nailing my pussy when Taylor entered without knocking, answering a few of Sir's inquiries, then leaving. Sir continued fucking me during their conversation. As an experienced sub, it's my duty to defer to my Dominant in all situations and let him establish the tempo, but even I gotta admit that it's fairly disturbing to not be noticed at all.
I think the stoic rent-a-cop is fucking the maid. I rarely see her since I only come on the weekends which she has off. Thankfully, she stocked many meals that only needed to be reheated before they are served since I can barely cook a lick. The fridge was also chock full of salad and sandwich staples, already prepped for easy assembly. Sir could never go hungry in this apartment.
He boasts a personal wine cellar filled with a lot of very high-end wines, with quite a few bottles produced by lesser-known vineyards in limited quantities. Once, he sent me to retrieve a bottle of red wine from his special stock to serve with a beef dish. I made a mental note of the label and when I looked it up, that one small bottle was worth over $5,000! And for a few of the others, there was a damn waiting list! Since we were not going to scene for awhile, Sir allowed me to consume one thousand-dollar glass of it. He's really into feeding a belly before he tries to bore a hole into it with his cock.
Before Sir, I always considered myself multi-orgasmic, but he could make me cum with barely a few caresses. He was so fucking beautiful. And he has the biggest cock I've ever fucked. His cock is very thick and must be almost eleven inches. He's not packing a cock in his trousers, he's swinging a fucking club. And my pussy has borne the full brunt of it. I was never the hugest fan of anal sex until Sir. He would've fucked me raw if I didn't frequently offer my ass as a substitute.
Later, I figured out that must have been his intention all along. After having her pussy battered so thoroughly into submission, quite a few subs might offer up their asses if only for a brief respite. Like many men, Sir is a true fan of anal sex. But, unlike most, I don't think it's the tightness of the cavity that gets him off, but the infliction of pain and the thrill of control.
He usually took my ass from behind, but on a few rare occasions he would bind me tightly to some apparatus and fuck my ass while facing me. He even had anchors for tethers built into the floor so he could bind my hands and feet, forcing me to squat while I used a dildo with suction base to fuck myself in the ass while performing fellatio on him. This was punishment for not putting things in the kitchen in their proper place.
For minor infractions, I could find myself being double penetrated by Sir's fucking machine while he looks over files on his laptop, glancing at me from time to time, ensuring that I was alright, almost daring me to safeword, though I never gave him the satisfaction. In Sir's world, 'go fuck yourself' has a concrete (and very literal) definition.
Not even menstruation deterred Sir from a good, hard fuck session. He didn't care about Aunt Flo except to be impressed that Mother Nature provided such ample lubrication so he didn't have to prepare my pussy for its weekly pounding. Besides, there was a wide variety of other instruments he could use to get himself off, such as his floggers, crops, and cats. However, what he really seemed to love is the belt. He always carefully examined the stripes on my back, ass and thighs before cumming all over my breasts, and sometimes my face, after he jerked himself off to completion.
Most subs worked on a three weekends on, one weekend off schedule, but I found that my body responded best when Sir fucked it regularly. The first time I tried the normal schedule, I felt like I had been deflowered again the following week. Sometimes Sir would play with my pussy, place clover clamps on my nipples and a kegel exerciser in my snatch, then stick a huge weighted metal butt plug up my ass for a couple hours per day. He would be sure to instruct me not to come while he directed me through various household tasks, such as scrubbing the already pristine kitchen floor while on my hands and knees. It would have been great if he had stayed and watched, but really it was a harsh lesson in discipline.
That's when I made a startling discovery: discipline was not my thing. Sure, I loved the pain, punishments and orgasms, but obedient I was not. I had just never had a Dom truly push my limits before. I began doing little things to piss Sir off. I would purposefully leave things in the wrong place, but not obvious enough to be noticed the same weekend. Sometimes, I would cum without Sir's permission while I was in my apartment. He would know I had orgasmed at some point because he could tell when my pussy was hungry and when it wasn't.
The problem with cumming without his permission during the week is that the punishment he meted out for that particular transgression was sensory deprivation. Total deprivation of Sir. He would lock me out of his apartment, change the codes and refuse all contact with me. And that was the most awful punishment he could enact.
In many ways, Sir was the most generous Dom I'd ever had. And it wasn't because of his wealth, but because he noticed the small things. I barely had to work when he was my Dom because he made it his mission to make sure I was provided for. Real estate in Seattle was always at a premium and when my landlord hiked my rent before my lease was renewed, Sir covered the shortfall, and I had never told him. After the first three months, he presented me with a snazzy red Audi because I had some trouble with my existing car getting back and forth from my art courses.
I asked him why he chose red, hinting that perhaps it was because it was the color of love and passion and his eyes shuttered and he gave his lips a sardonic twist. Then he said something I'll never forget: "I don't do love. Love is for fools. What ignorant people call 'love' is just a set of chemical reactions in the brain, tricking people into lives of perpetual bondage without reprieve."
He had, in essence, described love as a form of drug-induced slavery. However, it was easy to gloss over it because he was so thoughtful. I shouldn't have been surprised that he had very little employee turnover. Between people trying to stay at GEH and others clamoring to be hired, it was no surprise that Sir had somehow discovered the key to employee retention. So, it was somewhat puzzling that he never had a long-term sub. No-one had stayed over a year and I was unlucky number 13.
So, I was shocked when a year passed and Sir and I remained together. I suppose that reaching out to his previous subs was a stroke of genius. Once I had compiled a list of do's and don'ts, keeping Sir satisfied was child's play. I believed that the main reason Sir didn't believe in love was that none of his previous subs had held on as long as I had. I had proven myself to be reliable and trustworthy.
I had done all I could to make myself indispensable, while keeping Master titillated. I'd begun to master the art of edging, only instead of sex, I sought to tease him to the limits of his mental endurance, which often culminated in some of the most exotic and violent punishments. I'd grabbed the tiger by its tail more than once.
But I didn't want to be just indispensable anymore. I wanted my Master to love me. How else could I ensure that these wonderful sensations would continue? I started to wonder if he had never witnessed love. His family hardly visited and he rarely visited them. They didn't seem to give a damn about Sir at all.
A couple times his mother dropped by, but she didn't even attempt to hug him, just placing her hands on his shoulders and dropping one of those cool European kisses on his cheek. Did their skin cells even make contact? No wonder he has such a savage reaction when touched. He didn't even receive proper affection from his mother.
Sir now allowed me free rein of his apartment. Of course, I still wasn't allowed in his bedroom, but I was more or less welcome anywhere else. I had codes to the garage, his apartment and while drawing quietly in the corner of Sir's home office, I was able to learn the combination to Sir's safe where he kept all of his very important documents! Well, Sir frequently glanced at a certain spot under his desk and I just happened to retrace his steps and wrote down the combination, but still, Sir trusted me!
Master hardly seemed to sleep at all, playing his piano into the wee hours of the morning, working out in his gym or running. Many nights he'd scream until I worried he'd lose his voice. I wanted to save him from the monsters that haunted his dreams. Sometimes after an extremely arduous session, I'd force myself to remain awake, or I'd set an alarm on my phone so I could try to sneak into Master's bedroom. Once I was even able to touch his hair!
Sir had begun to relax around me, letting me place a few selections on his iPod. His iPod was synced on all of his Apple devices, so he always had something to remind him of me. Once, late in the evening, Sir escorted me to a private showing at a shop where select purveyors of fine fetishwear exhibited their wares. He also gave me a large line of credit at Neiman-Marcus, providing me with a personal shopper. He requires me to appear properly dressed at all times, from foundation garments to accessories, even for the times he was not present. He had made it clear that everything he purchased for me belonged to me outright.
Once, when I had pleased him especially well, he purchased me a chocolate diamond tennis bracelet because it reminded him of my eyes. Well, he didn't say that exactly. He said he chose it to match my eye color. But that's how I decided to interpret it.
I kept many of my nicest things in my bedroom at Escala, though Sir insisted that only white satin or lace panties were allowed in his playroom. At this time, Sir and I had been in a monogamous relationship for over a year. I look back at these halcyon days with a smile upon my face as they represented the beginning of my fall. It wasn't until I had plummeted from the cliff I never knew I was standing on, that must have been there the whole time, that I realized there was no soft place to land.