The message came like any other. The first one at least. Her phone chirped happily to let her know that she had received a message from John Casey. Did you forget to feed your cat last night? I think he was pretty cut up about it.

Anastasia was stupefied. Her eyes were lost, trying to carry out the tasks her fingers were assigned to as her feet searched the ground for noises. She had never known fear like this. Being a criminal lawyer had put her in many situations in which she later wished she could have avoided but for this situation she somehow felt that if she did nothing she would not find a later time to think that.

"Let's go somewhere. Let's go away." Her eyes were set, so much so that Christian almost let out a nervous laugh.

"Tell me a place and I'll take you there." He was just excited at the idea of taking her, he did not mind where.

"Scotland." She said abruptly. It seemed almost as though she had made her mind up some time ago and was simply waiting for the opportune moment to let it out.

"Scotland it is then."

There was a surprisingly large market for estates in the Scottish highlands, despite their price tags being slightly frightening. What they decided on was a done-up chateau in the Scottish highlands. It was a towering, almost dominating building with an endless supply of rooms to house whichever toys they saw fit to acquire. The rolling fields and forests that surrounded it saw Christian into a fit of excitement for the many songs he could write through the metaphor of such nature.

"I think it's the one." Anastasia smile wistfully, her excitement floating freely from her body. "Those turrets, the throne room. Now that is what I call living."

"So you want me to put the transaction through?" He was almost businesslike, while still unable to mask the arousal in his body for her.

"Put it in. Right now. I need it in." She almost moaned the last words. Christian's ears pricked up at the sound. They certainly were not the only body part that pricked up.

The screen changed to tell them that the purchase had been successful. The papers would await their arrival at whichever date they saw fit. Christian wrenched her into his arms and threw her down onto her bed. His queen lay spread before him, awaiting the powerful drive of her king. He tore what clothes she had on from her body. She can buy new clothes, but she won't be able to replace other things that I would very much like to destroy, he thought devilishly.

The sounds of her moans and screams were his favourite sounds in the entire world. He could not even begin to fathom how he had survived so long before hearing them for the first time. They were his addiction. Just the sound of her pleasure caused immeasurable satisfaction and arousal in his body. He grabbed hold of her, her small shoulders feeling fragile inside his grip but there was no fear in either of them that he would cause her harm. He could not guarantee there would be no pain but he could assure her there would be no harm.

"When's the next flight to Scotland?" Anastasia did not want to wait. She wanted to be with her king in their castle, out of harm's way and she wanted to be there now.

Looking up from the screen Christian made a face. "We can get on the nine pm flight, first class."

They both looked at the clock, it was four o'clock. "Action stations." Anastasia had her suitcase on the bed almost as soon as the full stop had caught her sentence. The simply tossed the contents of her wardrobe in the rectangular space, she didn't need anything else. They had shops anywhere in the world.

"I can buy you anything you need anywhere. You only need yourself." He took her bag, zipped it up in its state of over-crowded disorder and hopped to his feet.

Anastasia had no trouble leaving her house. It hardly felt like a home anymore, with Christian no longer inside it. She followed him to his Prius, her body filled with an enormous sense of excitement and anticipation. The anticipation was cured immeasurably soon as it was a concrete truth that the two could not survive in an enclosed space without a little entree. He was inside her as soon as she was inside that car. She had seen Inception a few nights earlier as she sat numbly in her office and was now reminded somewhat of the plot.

Don't need to plug in an electric car if this much energy is going to be created inside it, Anastasia observed, her back pressed against the windscreen, Christian's hands seeming to caress her on every surface of her body at once. Her mind was in a state somewhere between real life and her deepest fantasies, the two finding a compromise in the most unbearably pleasurable part of her being. Charge me instead with your industrial strength power plug, Christian Grey, she moaned inwardly, plug it anywhere you like.

As though he could hear her every thought, Christian immediately plugged her in as many places as he could and when possible, as many places at once as he could manage with his five insatiable limbs. The heat procured by such acts caused the windows to fog up in such a way that the results seemed irreversible, the raw passion of their bodies almost visible in the air.

And the air was soon where they were. The mile high club taunted them almost to the point of recklessness. However, they both knew that the slightest touch of their organs of passion would lead to emergency procedures being induced in response to the noise disruption that was bound to be heard throughout the entire aircraft. And quite possibly the resulting turbulence.

Upon arriving at their delectable destination, they knew there was nothing to do but christen every room, every window, every blade of grass with the moisture of their wildest passions. Within a day there was not a square inch that had not been desecrated by their brutal love making. Anastasia was personally impressed that they had managed to achieve the height of passion atop the washing line. The domesticity had somehow augmented the pleasure of the act.

The festivities paused at the sight of a somewhat unnerved gardener standing dumbstruck at the gate holding a trowel. "There are a few uses I can think of for that trowel if you're done with it, sir." Grinning at the gardener's reaction, Christian dug his personal trowel into the soft earth of Anastasia and she cried out, clutching his handle and helping to push it as far into the earth as it could go. The gardener was far from sight by the time the whole was completely dug.

The two eventually deemed it acceptable to temporarily resign from their marathon so as to prepare their new home for the life they were soon to live. Their bags had been brought in by the driver who had taken them from the airport. The poor man had disappeared without seeking a tip, in his desperate fear of the couple's potential.

Anastasia was quietly curious of what was inside Christian's single but large suitcase. She couldn't imagine he would think to bring such an extensive selection of clothing. For hours she peered at it, its aged tan leather skin concealing deep, dark secrets. She daydreamed of the thrills that could be awaiting her in its contents. The surprises that could make her skin tingle in every place. The buckles hinting at effortlessly brutal objects with which she could receive both pain and pleasure. The possibilities were endless and so was her desire for him and each of his possessions.

Christian noticed her fixation on the suitcase. Her fixation on anything related to him sent a fire through him that turned his body to a rigid, burning coal, ready to sear her with ferocious tenderness. He walked to her, taking all his strength not to swoop upon her, sword unsheathed to defend her from the object with which she was helplessly entranced. She simply could not tear her eyes from the suitcase, her curiosity taking over her body, anticipation coursing with the beat of her heart. She wanted Christian to do to her all the things he had ever done to her, all at once, and she just knew that the contents of the suitcase had the potential to facilitate that.

With trembling hands, she finally reached for the bag. Her distracted fingers fumbling with the buckle, her mind using all it's strength to stop her tearing the bag apart with her teeth.

The straps slid free of the buckles.

The zip hummed smoothly from end to end.

The bag opened its mouth in an almost devilish grin.

The large space beyond filled to the brim.

The objects neatly arranged in pairs.

And in front of Anastasia's eyes, lay fifty pairs of boat shoes.