Once again, let me thank Thirst who has really been coming through with the pre-reading... I type much slower than I think, so mistakes are bound to appear.
A/N: A guest or two (perhaps the same guest) has accused me of plagiarism, essentially stealing someone else's story or storyline. I don't need to steal.
One complaint was that I made Eamon a Dom… He, too, is a rich, powerful guy who is often depicted as a serial philanderer in fanfiction. It wouldn't be outside the norm for him to have participated in BDSM. I used the NaNoWriMo Camp to develop a huge overarching plot and several smaller subplots all within a one-month period. I wrote over 50k words for the challenge, but this story is nowhere near completion.
In addition, I've bounced my ideas off several people along the way. I'm sure these other FSoG fanfiction afficionados would've noticed if my shit was redundant. If this anonymous individual could take some time out of his/her no doubt busy schedule to at least drop a story ID with the relevant passages for comparison, I'd be willing to hold my story up to scrutiny, in order to prove that this story is mine except for the basic Fifty Shades universe and characters. If this guest does NOT provide proof of this accusation(s), he/she is just pulling this scenario out of his/her ass and wasting my, and other readers, time.
Another guest (why is it always a guest?) criticized me for drawing out Christian's 'scenes' with Leila. They are NOT nearly as gratuitous as they seem. To get to know MY Christian, you need to know how he was with the subs before. How else could we have a Fifty Shades that was shocked Anastasia wouldn't let him diddle her at his parents' dining table? Didn't you ever wonder (even just a little bit) what kind of women and/or relationships created a man so spoiled that he expected Anastasia to just fall in line?
ELJ shafted us… She expected us to simply accept that his love for Ana cured him of all his ills without it being spelled out exactly what he was sacrificing in order to keep her. I've read countless articles about people with BDSM tendencies who fell in love with vanilla folks and those relationships generally ended badly.
If you're expecting to see Ana any time soon, I hope you like disappointment. If it makes you feel any better, you're going to see so much of her later on, you'll probably get sick of her. You do realize bad stuff is going to happen to her, right? Who wants to go rushing headlong into that?
Leila was a masochist. Elena was right. We were highly compatible. But what that meant for the future was no-one's guess.
"I caught Leila leaving my room when I woke up this morning," I confided lowly over dinner. With that, Elena shot me a horror-filled look, fork poised over her frisée salad, as if the spirit of Leila's bludgeoned corpse was currently haunting my apartment.
"The fuck you say!" she hissed, angrily stabbing at her salad.
"I've kept her much longer than all of the others. I know you never approved of the heavy turnover, but surely you understand now that she can't stay. Her clingy behavior has escalated. I wouldn't be surprised if she was waiting for me Friday evening at the door with newspaper and whip in hand," I added, sure that Elena would stroke out if the throbbing in her usually frozen forehead continued.
"I have a couple girls who are at loose ends right now that might do in a pinch," she muttered to herself. I didn't need a sub at the moment. The one I had was too much trouble as she was. Frankly, the whole process had begun to pall.
"Are there any true subs left? Leila is all about the whips, chains and punishments, but submissive she is not. Lately, she's been hinting around for me to take her places," I said disgusted.
"Bet Grace would just love that. She'd probably wish you truly were gay!" she chortled.
"You don't say," I spat. "I thought you said she was perfect for me."
"She was. Does she balk at a cat or a cane? Take a long, hard fuck? Look like a bedraggled waif?" she demanded. "Allowing for your criteria, she was perfect."
"I think my needs are changing," I confessed.
"How so? You already fucked the doctor, a chef and an acrobat. What else could you possibly want? Or better yet, what don't you want?" she queried, "Because I haven't the foggiest. What's your real issue with Leila?"
"She's a true masochist, Elena. I can't punish her," I admitted flatly. "No-one can. The only thing that makes her bleed is rejection. And if I have to shut her out or put her in the hospital to bring her to heel, I may as well not have a sub at all," I growled.
She gazed at me, face filled with chagrin, or was it fear? "Well, she'll be coming for her regular appointment later this week… How about I drop in to dispense some timely advice?" she offered hesitantly. We both knew the code for fanning the flames of failure. Elena would encourage her to be honest with me, Leila would pressure me and I would tell her no. Good Cop - Bad Cop. Easy as clockwork.
I was so sure regular meetings with my discards would keep her humble, but instead she returned full-to-the-brim with false hope. I thought the purpose of the Sub Club was to teach them the meaning of their own importance (none), while disseminating information that I didn't bother to relate. Orientation, if you will. I even provided my subs with self-care kits because I certainly wasn't giving out any cuddles after our sessions.
"You know she won't be able to find a decent Dom if this gets out. She'll be scraping the bottom of the barrel for contracts," Elena claimed.
"And how the hell is that my problem?" he snapped. "Trust me, she arrived that way. She's a fucking pain-freak. I thought she was topping from the bottom for attention, but she can't choose between being a pain-slut and a slave," he hissed in frustration.
"And what about after the contract is over?" she demanded.
"You said her last Dom sent her to school? Why not offer her a few more classes? She likes to paint. She's has a good eye, but fuck-all in terms of discipline."
"So you what? Just want to throw money at the problem to make it go away?" she scoffed. "We both know why you've kept this one so long."
"I just want her to go away. She's added all these love songs on my iPod. The other day I went to my parents' place, cued up the player and Toxic comes blaring out the speakers. What she wants and what we agreed to are no longer compatible, if they ever were," he stated.
"That won't stop you from scening with her this weekend, will it?" she chuckled.
"Until she confesses, I have no reason to change our routine. I wouldn't want to arouse her suspicions," he pouted.
"You're incorrigible, Christian," Elena scolded playfully.
"Well, I'm sure the twenty-five grand deposit you receive as soon as she leaves will ease your pain and suffering tremendously," he retorted, grimacing. "I'm the one who's going to need to dispose of anything she leaves behind."
"You're such a hypocrite, darling. How can you claim to care so much about the environment when you don't recycle?" she sniffed.
"Any feelings of guilt will be ameliorated when I purchase replacement goods. I'm stimulating the economy," he dodged with a smirk.
"Think whatever gives you comfort. Trust you to spin dumping someone into a public service. Guess I'll be working on a replacement," she groused.
"You have at least a hundred reasons to find one," he retorted. "And you have four months."
"Why four instead of the normal two?" she inquired.
"One word: Europe. I've decided to diversify," he responded.
"Again? When will you be satisfied, Christian?" Elena questioned.
"When it's enough," he said shortly, ending the conversation and with that, dinner.
He stood in the middle of his playroom, surveying it carefully. Leila had subtly altered the positioning again. Usually this would've resulted in a punishment, but it was impossible to punish the willing. Their scenes had devolved into a parody of the damsel on the tracks while the villain twirled his mustache in glee. With Leila as his sub, his dominance had been reduced to mere puppetry. No wonder he felt so out of control.
He strode out of the room, heading in the direction of the staff quarters. Taylor met him in the foyer.
"Taylor, Ms. Williams will be leaving next week," I stated brusquely. He looked at me impassively. We've been down this route before. He's been exposed to most of my past submissives. He usually knows they're on their way out long before I do.
"Ms. Williams may present a problem, sir," Taylor volunteered. The fuck you say? That little slip of a thing?
"What kind of a problem?" I inquired, because this is the first time I'm hearing this.
"She's been all over your residence since you gave her the codes. She snoops. She's sneaky. You can tell she is assessing everything. We're gong to need to change all the codes. Have you considered installing the biometrics we discussed?" he asked. Perhaps he has mentioned that a time or two, but I'd put him off. He's great at his job, but I don't need to turn my apartment into a fucking fortress.
"The cameras should be enough. Just change the codes and escort her out of the building personally," I commanded.
"Very well, sir," he responded glumly, no doubt miffed that I'd denied him yet another bite of the tech he's been salivating over for the past year. He, Welch and Barney will get over it.
Though I was expecting Leila to arrive tonight after work, I was sure she'd be here waiting for me. Sometimes I wonder if she's homeless, because she never seems to have anything or anywhere else to go but here. She seems to live as if i have her on call, which is not the case at all.
I like for my sub's weekends to be kept clear, but there's really no need for them to drop by during the week unless the weekend posed a problem. Sunday through Friday evening were usually earmarked for business activities and i didn't appreciate anyone underfoot when i was taking care of business.
I work all the time and I'm always available as far as GEH is concerned. There are few times when i am not in work mode. That's when I'm in the playroom. That's not to say that work emergencies do not intrude, because they do, but i usually have most things in hand before the weekend.
Everything I've never done with Leila will have to be compressed into these final two weekends. No matter, she'll most likely derive much enjoyment from my attentions. I was stupid to think that this could work, especially since she's tried so assiduously to turn this into some lifetime commitment.
Face it. Even if I didn't have my issues, long-term relationships aren't all that common in BDSM arrangements. Perhaps it's because the relationships major focus is honesty and pleasure. And once you no longer find your partner attractive, it's time to leave or add additional partners. What's the point of adding other people when it's only going to result in anger, jealousy and insecurity? I'm not aiming to build a fucking harem.
Either way, I'm monogamous in all my relationships, not just because of the safe sex, but because it's disrespectful. When the subs are around, they generally have the bulk of my focus. I've set the time aside just for them. They may not see it that way when they're in their room in their own bed, but this arrangement is generous compared to a lot of the situations I've seen.
There are some Doms that cage their subs and stuff them under their beds when they don't want to be bothered. Or leave them hanging, suspended by chains, when they're not 'in use' the pathetic fuckers. All of my subs are treated decently within the bounds of their contracts. Maybe that's why they so frequently attempt to take advantage of me.
A few faked pregnancies occurred before I figured out the best way to handle them was to make them squat and piss to insure no babies would be resulting from our unions… I don't fuck breeding stock. It's not my kink and no-one should be offended by the idea that children aren't part of my plan. Everything I am and everything I do is in black and white from the outset. If they intend to change their route midstream, I can't be held accountable.
Why is it that people delude themselves into believing I'm going to change because I like them? I hardly like anyone. And even they can be counted on one hand with at least a finger left over. Sometimes my fingers waver.
Elena may bitch a great fucking deal about finding appropriate subs that match my requirements, but we live in Washington state. Pale, petite, dark-haired women are pretty fucking heavy on the ground and if need be, she could always find one elsewhere. I'm international. I'm not like Elliot, needing to fuck half the women in Seattle. I can afford to outsource. The world is a big enough place for her to find me what I need.
Personally, I think she likes nagging me because she has Isaac now. He's been her long-term sub for a couple years, but I'm sure she still plays away so has little room to fuss. At least I'm only fucking Leila. She may retain her subs longer, but I keep mine happier.
Leila has entered the apartment, once again wearing the perfume I don't like. I haven't told her, but it makes her smell cheap though I know it's expensive. I'm going to make all my future subs use bodywash and scents I provide. Leila has officially fucked it up for everyone else.
She went through all this trouble to dress up as if we're going out for a night on the town, when I'm just going to order her to take it all off, shower and put on the clothes I laid out for her. I adjusted the environmental controls so the temperature of the apartment would soon approach that of a meat-locker. Too bad I only placed a g-string and a pair of nipple clamps on her bed. She's going to be nipplelicious all weekend. Let the torture begin.
At eight o'clock on the dot, I entered my playroom to find her in her second position, kneeling, thighs and legs akimbo, hands behind her back, head bowed in supplication. Her body, likely chilled, was covered in goosebumps. Her hair, hanging long and unbound, troubled me. She knows I prefer it plaited and secured.
Perhaps she was trying to get me to braid it as I had a few times in the past. Not biting. I reached into the front pocket of my jeans, fishing out a hair-tie, and tossed it in front of her, knowing she wouldn't be allowed to pick it up without breaking position. Instead, my dismissive attitude signaled my displeasure as without acknowledging her, I stepped around, going to my music dock.
All commands would be given via hand signals and body language. I was done and she must soon realize it. She made a solemn agreement and she has broken it several times. I always respected her hard limits, yet she has frequently violated mine. In her desire for more, she's failed to comprehend that my limits exist for her safety. Entering my room against my express wishes terminated our arrangement as far as I was concerned.
There are few ways to punish a pain slut, unfortunately, that don't include a gratuitous amount of mind fuckery. I wasn't about to have her write lines of "I will not enter Sir's bedroom" over and over until her hands blistered and bled despite that initial inclination. I could've made her walk around town without her war paint.
Even kicking her out of Escala inconvenienced me as much as it punished her, and fuck if I cared enough about her to sacrifice my desires in order to train her. I wasn't in this to break subs. I always selected experienced subs to avoid this bullshit, but now she's caught feelings and she's expecting me to read her mind and fall in love with her. Not going to fucking happen.
He couldn't deny he'd been enthralled at the notion of exacting retribution on one who so resembled Ella, but the drawbacks had begun to drastically outweigh the positives. Who gave a shit that a sub could swallow a cock whole if she became so full of herself she decided she owned the man to whom it was attached?
He settled on a soft, seductive medley that spoke of a hunter that got captured by the game. He felt it was apropos. He strode back to where Leila remained in place, snatching up the hair-tie, wrapping his hand into Leila's hair and firmly dragging her by it to his St. Andrews cross.
He latched her to it firmly, with her body facing outward, so she could view everything he was doing, unable to move a muscle. He gathered her hair, using the hair-tie to arrange it into a messy bun. He didn't bother to blindfold or gag her because that would've defeated the purpose of this exercise. He then dragged over an armless chair, placing it directly in Leila's line of sight.
Taking his seat, he proceeded to slowly unzip his battered jeans, exposing his long, thick cock inch by inch. He let it push out proudly with the beginnings of precum. Then he licked his own hand and gripped his cock with his damp hand, working his dick up and down. Leila sucked in a gust of air. She wasn't the only one who could give a show.
This was probably the safest sex his playroom had ever hosted, provided Leila didn't choke on her own drool or swallow her tongue. She wet her lips, but knew better than to make a fucking sound. Not even a fucking peep after her first startled gasp. Her eyes dilated with excitement, but she was so tightly bound that she could only move her head in dismay as he continued to ignore her, solely focused upon pleasuring himself.
"What's this whole world comin' to
Things just ain't the same
Any time the hunter gets captured by the game"
The song, line by line, mockingly illustrated the tease he delivered. She had indeed gotten caught in her own trap, but it wasn't his fucking job to save her or set her free. As he dragged his hand up and down to the song's hypnotic beat, letting the dribble of precum lubricate his hand as he twisted slightly on the downstroke, he felt his balls tighten with impending orgasm. As he felt the pleasure building to the crest, he looked directly into Leila's desperately pleading eyes. But as waves of ecstasy overtook him, he no longer saw eyes of bourbon brown. He'd been plunged headlong into the blue…