Chapter 33

When I arrive at his apartment Saturday night Taylor is at the entry hall to greet me. "Hello, Ms. Steele. Mr. Grey is on a call at the moment. He'll be with you shortly."

I'm so happy to see Taylor and I give him a big grin. He is becoming familiar to me and he represents safety and security. Plus, I feel it's my mission in life to see that he smiles more. "Okay."

"He told me to tell you to make yourself comfortable."

"Oh? Well then, why don't you and I have a glass of wine and talk for a little bit?"

The look on his face is the very definition of uncomfortable and it makes me giggle. "C'mon, I don't bite."

He cocks his head and offers me a tiny smile—for him it's being effusive. I follow him into the great room where he proceeds to pour out two glasses of a deep red Cab and we tip our goblets in a toast.

I sip my wine and sit back on the chair I selected. "So," I say, tilting my head, "tell me, how long have you worked for Mr. Grey, Taylor?"

He looks up at the ceiling as if he needs to recall when I know his mind is like a freaking steel trap. "Going on six years now."

I arch my eyebrows. "Six years? That's a long time. You must have seen a lot of… things during that tenure."

He says nothing, availing himself of a swallow of his wine.

I persist. "I must be just the latest in a long string of women in Mr. Grey's life, I suppose."

"Now, Ms. Steele—"

"Ana," I interrupt.

"Ana. Part of my job description is discretion and I think you probably know that. I will, however, tell you that you are not merely the latest of anything. Mr. Grey is very enamored of you and I think you probably know that too."

I shrug. "Still. Reinforcement couldn't hurt." I peek up at him through my lashes in my best attempt at a flirt.

"Well then, you just got one, didn't you? Mr. Grey thinks very highly of you… and he's a good guy. One of the best. Now," he says taking another swallow of wine before rising and placing the glass on the table, "if you'll excuse me, I will let Mr. Grey know you've arrived."

Nodding in response, I indulge in a big gulp of my wine and smirk, knowing he's lying. Mr. Grey already knows I'm here, for sure. For one thing, the apartment has cameras in every room except the bedrooms, dungeon, and bathrooms. For another, he knows what time it is. Either he's still on the phone or he's making me wait for another reason. Either way, I'm confident that not much gets by the man; however, I'll allow Taylor his escape. "Thank you, Taylor."

Not a minute has elapsed before Taylor reappears in the room. "Ms. Steele, you may follow me please.

I lean forward to place my glass on the coffee table and stand. Taylor leads me into the study, sliding open the pocket doors to allow me to enter. Christian is standing at the large window, his back to me. When I stop just beyond the threshold he doesn't turn around. "Come in and close the doors, Ana."

I turn to nod at Taylor but he's already retreating down the hallway so I walk in and softly slide together the polished twin wood doors. "So?"

He turns now and I can readily see his mind is already in the dungeon. "Are we still in agreement about visiting my… playroom?"

I press my lips together and nod, speech having very recently evaded me as I took in his intimidating bearing.

"Good. Any questions before we begin?"

"Not a one," I murmur almost inaudibly.

He nods, satisfaction glowing in his eyes. "Then you know what to do, Ana. Be in the room and in position in fifteen minutes please. You'll find the door unlocked."

Jerking my head I take my leave. As I make my way downstairs I consider the last few minutes. He didn't even greet me or anything—he just wants to get right down to business. Before I start to feel insulted I try to consider it from his point of view. Perhaps this kind of thing is his pressure valve… and since he's started to date me he's had less of a chance to indulge it, if not none. I could see him being anxious to get there.

But what does that mean for me? Is he going to beat me raw?

The dungeon is cool and dark, with light emanating only from the copper sconces. I quickly disrobe, feeling goose bumps jumping up on my newly bared skin as I drop each article of clothing. When I'm bare I scoop them all up and place them on a chair near the entrance and then go to my corner where I drop to my knees. I try to remember the exact position: knees shoulder-width wide, hands on thighs palms up, neck straight, head down, eyes on floor. And then I wait.

And wait.

I have no idea how long I've been kneeling when I hear the door click open. My anticipation is mixed with nervousness and the stress of holding position while endlessly waiting. I hear him moving around the room, leisurely doing whatever he's doing while my knees are hurting and it pisses me off. It's all a power game and even though I recognize why he does certain things, I can't help but get my back up. Deep breaths help me center myself again.

Finally, he's standing before me and my heart starts hammering in my chest. The rational part of my brain knows it's Christian, my lover and even my friend. But in here? In here he feels like an adversary—a formidable one at that—and totally unpredictable in his behavior. It's a terrifying sort of excitement that I've never experienced before and I'm beginning to understand what makes it so addictive a habit.

Ten minutes later I'm blindfolded and tied to the St. Andrew's cross, the thing that looks like a giant wooden letter X. I told him to treat me as he would any inexperienced submissive and I think he said he'd up the belt to a whip. Hearing him walk back to me, I feel my bravado begin to drain away.

Clearing my throat I manage to croak out a question. After all, nothing ventured… "Uh… Sir, may I ask a question?"

His response is swift and stern. "No speaking at all, Ana, unless I ask you a question or you need to use your safeword. When we enter this room you have but one focus and that's to feel. Clear away the cobwebs of thought till your mind is clean and empty enough to do nothing but remain fully in the moment. That is your one and only obligation other than obedience."

I try my hardest to do as he says. Mentally I begin to stow all my thoughts in a little box, to be taken out for further examination later. While I'm doing this, he wraps his hands around my throat, tightens them slightly and then slides them down to my shoulders.

Rubbing, massaging, tickling, his hands roam all over my naked body, warming the skin and making my mind shift to dirty thoughts. More and more my need grows with the touch of his big and strong hands.

He stops briefly and I hear him move a few steps away and then back. I know he's very near for he's throwing off body heat and I hear him breathing. Nor is he moving so I can only assume he's looking at me… doing nothing but look at me. It sounds simple but to have a man, this gorgeous man, do nothing but stare at my naked body is one of the most sensual experiences I can conceive of. The anticipation is carbonating my blood, bubbling through my veins until I'm nearly vibrating with excitement.

While I revel in the feeling, I feel the air around me shift and multiple flogger strands land on my thighs with a thudding jolt. It doesn't hurt… but only just. The sensation is somewhere between a vigorous massage and blunt-force pain, hard to compare with anything else. Even though I'm completely new at this, I can sense how expert Christian is in wielding this implement. I know this because the intensity increases so gradually I can barely register it and I'm the one under the whip. When I saw the floggers the first time I was in his dungeon, I wondered how they would feel. Tonight Christian answered that question.

Up and down they march, from my ankles to my shoulders, lightening at my breasts but the skin still pulls tight and my nipples are as hard as if I stood in an icy wind. The impact gets harder and harder until I know I am just seconds away from using my safeword and then it stops... as if he knows exactly what I'm feeling and that is so strange. I feel as if he's completely in tune with me whereas he is a complete mystery to me.

The blood stops roaring in my ears and now I can hear only the faint strains of music and his breathing, which is slightly heavier than normal. More steps away and back and then a lighter implement—still multiple strands—begins but this one stays on my breasts, circling one and then the other. I quickly realize where he's going with this and my blood heats even more. Everything south of my navel tightens and swells to a fever pitch and I'm beginning to feel desperate to come.

And I know he knows it.

Fact is I feel as if he can read my mind when we're in here. The mini flogger circles my left breast, over and over, the circle becoming smaller until it's just around my nipple and then whap. It comes down right on the nipple and the sharp pain makes me jerk in my bonds. He moves to my right and repeats the same thing. I stiffen, waiting for the pain and it soon comes, the strike feeling like a fiery bite. Gradually the fire blends into sexual heat and I can feel myself straining to direct his attention lower. It's as if my clit itself is trying to get his attention but he's ignoring my lower half.

When he's worked on my breasts to the point where both feel swollen to near bursting and on fire, the flogger finally begins to move down to my belly and then around in a circle from hip bone to hip bone and my inner thighs.

It stings but the pain is fleeting, serving to only escalate my sexual need. That need is desperate now and I'm writhing as much as my bonds allow movement. The circle of the flogger gets smaller and smaller until he is just around my clit, hitting all around it and I'm near tears I'm so frustrated.

The impact pattern quickens, the strands moving around me faster and faster. I'm entirely focused on anticipating when the blow will come that will take me over the cliff. On and on, the stinging barely registers as pain anymore—it's just heat and pressure, heat and pressure until finally the circle is so small there's no other place for it to come down but my clit and it does, with more force than he was using before—bam.

The orgasm rips through me with such brutal force that I see colors. Through the daze of my climax I hear him laugh… and I'm not sure if I want to kiss him or kill him when he unties me.

While I'm still distracted by the experience, he quickly unties me, turning me around on the cross. He reattaches my cuffs and the flogging continues on the backside of my body. This time he goes a little faster, starting a little harder. My skin prickles at the intensity but I soon settle into the rhythm again. When the blood is flowing—I can feel the flush in my limbs—he changes implements. Now he's using something with a single strand and it cracks, scaring me right before I feel a sharp stinging bite… but in seconds the sting turns into a blossoming of painful heat, like a flower opening its petals. This time I can't keep silent.

"Ow," I shriek but he doesn't stop. I know the only thing that will stop him is my safeword. Do I want to use it? Christian told me it's the equivalent of calling 911 and not to be used lightly. This hurts though. I squirm, trying to evade the whip but my efforts are useless and he strikes where he aims. I notice he's staying on my backside and upper thighs—I guess the fleshier parts take the pain better.

My whole body feels really hot—burning—and I notice that despite the pain, I'm getting needy again. I want him, his body, his attention. How long will this go on? The whip nips me just under the right side of my butt cheek, sending me on my toes. Then it snaps higher up on the left, then lower down on my thigh. I want to move my legs but I can't: I'm an unmoving target, for the most part. Just when I really can't take it anymore, he stops and I hear the whip thrown to the floor. He comes close, his hands rubbing the burning skin, and that doesn't feel good. I try to twist away to let him know but he just laughs wickedly and nuzzles my neck as he undoes the cuffs, leaving the blindfold in place. When I hear that laugh, I get even wetter. What is wrong with me?

Holding my hand, he leads me to what feels like the other side of the room. We come to a sudden stop and his hands position me, moving me wherever he wants me. I feel the palm of his hand between my shoulder blades as he leans in even closer until I feel his lips right at my ear. "Hmm. Should I fuck you this way, or this way, or this way? There's an endless choice."

And just like that the hand on my back pushes me down with robust force. Apparently he made a decision, I think, as I'm leaning over a padded leather bench, the perfect height for you know what. I remember what it looks like too—the leather is dyed red and the frame is made of iron and wood. I just hope there's no more impact involved because I'm already way too sore.

He kicks open my legs and inserts himself between them. I'm waiting for him to push into me, holding my breath for that moment of union that has come to mean so much to me, both on a physical and emotional plane… but again he surprises me. His hands curl around my knees and pull them up until I'm sort of kneeling on the bench but my legs are spread so wide that I have little purchase. It's a vulgar placement and he can see everything I have to offer, but I try not to dwell on it. After all, he put me into this position so I shouldn't be embarrassed. At least that's what I tell myself.

Now I feel his rock-hard erection gently poking at my overheated flesh… yet he's still not penetrating me. My fingernails are starting to dig into the leather as my frustration mounts. I just want to yell Fuck me already! but I know enough about BDSM and Christian personally to know that that's not a terribly good idea.

"Ouch." The word escapes my lips before I have a chance to swallow it back. He's purposely rubbing the sore skin of my ass, his fingers following along the stripes he made with his whip.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. No talking, Ana. You know I have to punish you for that little transgression, don't you? We follow a zero-tolerance policy in this dungeon."

I whimper.

His hands reach under my breasts, his fingers rolling the nipples as he finally heaves himself inside me and pinches my breasts at the same time. I shriek as pain and pleasure meld into one overarching sensation, so strong it overwhelms me physically and mentally. By now I'm more than ready for him, so wet I'm probably soaking him too so his entry is smooth and easy. We both moan as he slides in to the hilt. I've slept with no other men but I've seen pictures and one time I saw a male friend without clothes on… accidentally of course… so I know one thing for certain: Christian is very generously endowed. And, being I'm relatively new at this, I'm pretty tight down there so when he pushes all the way in, he fills me completely and the stretching sensation is… my brain grapples for the right word and doesn't find one. Just with his penetration alone I'm very close to coming again and it makes me want to scream out loud. Is screaming considered talking? I might be about to find out.

Swinging his hips back he uses the momentum to pound into me. I clutch the edge of the bench. He's holding my thighs to keep me in place so I have to absorb all of the forward thrust he's delivering. Just as I'm about to come, I feel his weight land on my back, his hand fists roughly in my hair as he yanks my head to the side, rips off the blindfold to look at me and right before his lips collide with mine, I stare into his eyes. What I see in them pushes me over the precipice and I free-fall into an abyss of… bliss. Pure and simple bliss.

"Ana," he moans, his thrusts coming fast and impossibly strong. "Ana, fuck," and he slams into me one last time, jerking his hips as he releases and I would collapse like a limp dish rag if I wasn't already down. In one fluid movement he both pulls down my legs and lets his full weight crash down on me. "Thank you, baby, for coming in here with me, for trusting me." He tracks a trail of kisses along my neck and shoulder.

I can't stop myself from smiling. I couldn't be happier that I came in here with him tonight. I'm sated, and languid, and as content as I've ever been in my life for a moment ago I saw exactly what I wanted to see in his eyes. Passion, confusion, heat…

And love.

I know I saw love and I think he might have just realized it himself.