Thursday, May 26 2011 – Dusk
…
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Soft Limits
Date: May 26 2011 19:23
To: Christian Grey
I can come over this evening to discuss if you'd like.
Ana
…
I receive the email just after seven o' clock. I'm finishing up my dinner, ravenous, on a high, after the events of today. I read over the words of her email, and furrow my brow. There's no way I'm letting her drive that car to see me. Besides, I have to deliver the Audi.
…
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Soft Limits
Date: May 26 2011 19:27
To: Anastasia Steele
I'll come to you. I meant it when I said I wasn't happy about you driving that car. I'll be with you shortly.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
…
I pull on my leather jacket. On my way out, I dial Taylor.
"Something you need, sir?"
"Yes, I'll need you to pick me up from Miss Steele's apartment at nine. I'm taking the Audi to her."
"Yes, sir."
.
For some strange reason that I can't identify, I'm nervous as I pull up in front of Anastasia's complex. There's a bottle of Bollinger on the passenger seat, and I pick it up as I extract myself from the car. I'm well aware that my intention is to ply her with alcohol again—in the guise of celebration—but I'm going to need her to be honest with me about the soft limits, and alcohol makes her brave. I head up the walkway, to her front porch. The lights are on, spilling out onto the grass. I step up to the door and knock. A moment later, she pulls it open, appraising me shyly. She's still wearing her dress from graduation, and I'm glad. She looks amazing in it, and I want to peel her out of it—after the negotiations, of course.
"Hi," she murmurs, reticent.
"Hi," I tell her, and because she's so radiant, and I'm so happy to see her, I let my lips pull up into a smile.
She stares at me for a moment, a little taken I think—does she like what she sees?—and then invites me in.
"If I may." I step inside, holding up the bottle of champagne. "I thought we'd celebrate your graduation."—Not to mention your agreeing to be my submissive—"Nothing beats a good Bollinger."
"Interesting choice of words," she states, and I detect sarcasm in her tone. Oh, Miss Steele, you and your smart mouth.
I grin at her. "Oh, I like your ready wit, Anastasia."
"We only have teacups. We've packed all the glasses," she tells me.
"Teacups? Sounds good to me."
She leaves me in the living room, heading into the kitchen. I take a moment to gaze around the room, sparsely furnished, but this is probably only because they're moving in two days. On the bookshelf, I spot a package, strangely familiar, and go to it. I know it's addressed to me from the quote Anastasia has written on the front:
"I agree to the conditions, Angel; because you know best what my punishment ought to be; only—only—don't make it more than I can bear!"
"Do you want saucers as well?" she calls from the other room.
"Teacups will be fine, Anastasia," I call back, reading over the quote once more. I thought we'd agreed that I was d'Urberville, not Angel. I hear, rather than see her walk back in. For some reason, I can't take my eyes off the parcel. I'm mad—really mad. She means to give these back to me? After I've bought them for her out of… What? Kindness? Shame? Guilt?
"That's for you," she mumbles, and I can hear the current of anxiety in her voice. She has a right to be nervous. She should be.
"Hmm, I figured as much," I say, and trail my index finger lazily over her handwriting. "Apt quote. I thought I was d'Urberville, not Angel. You decided on the debasement." I give her an impish grin. "Trust you to find something that resonates so appropriately." I'm grappling to keep my mood light. She needs to be able to trust me right now, and not feel wary.
"It's also a plea," she breathes, not looking at me.
"A plea?" I glance between her and the package. "For me to go easy on you?"
She bobs her head, silent.
I take a breath. "I bought these for you," Now she's looking at me, "I'll go easier on you if you accept them." All I want to do right now is give her a good hiding. She's constantly defying me, and now that she's truly mine, I can put a stop to it.
I watch her swallow. "Christian, I can't accept them," she's almost beseeching me. "They're just too much."
"You see, this is what I was talking about, you defying me. I want you to have them, and that's the end of the discussion. It's very simple. You don't have to think about this. As a submissive you would just be grateful for them. You just accept what I buy you because it pleases me for you to do so." And currently, I am not pleased by her reactions…
"I wasn't a submissive when you bought them for me," she argues, her voice still barely a breath.
"No… but you've agreed, Anastasia." Abruptly, I'm uneasy. Is she going to back out? She really has no reason not to…
She sighs. "So they are mine to do with as I wish?" she asks.
Now I'm suspicious. What does she have in mind…? "Yes," I tell her carefully.
"In that case, I'd like to give them to a charity, one working in Darfur since that seems to be close to your heart. They can auction them."
"If that's what you want to do." I can't help but feel hurt and frustrated by her words. Why can't she just accept the damn books? Why is it so hard for her to do? If she won't accept the books, how is she going to accept the Audi?
"I'll think about it," she says now.
"Don't think, Anastasia," I urge, "Not about this."
I set the Bollinger down and turn to face her. She's lost in thought, I can tell. She's thinking too hard. I tilt her chin up so I can see her face. "I will buy you lots of things, Anastasia. Get used to it. I can afford it. I'm a very wealthy man." I need to get this across to her before she sees the car. Otherwise, I know she's not going to be happy about it—the thought upsets me. I kiss her shortly. "Please," I add as an afterthought. Politeness always wins.
She doesn't seem won over. "It makes me feel cheap."
Irritated, I run a hand through my hair. "It shouldn't. You're overthinking it, Anastasia. Don't place some vague moral judgment on yourself based on what others might think. Don't waste your energy. It's only because you have reservations about our arrangement; that's perfectly natural. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
Her lips turn down into a frown, and then she bites down on her lower lip. My thoughts darken in immediate succession, but I press them down. There are matters we need to take care of first.
"Hey, stop this." I tug her chin so that she releases her lip. "There's nothing about you that is cheap, Anastasia. I won't have you thinking that. I just bought you some old books that I thought might mean something to you, that's all. Have some champagne." I can't have her thinking too hard about this. I need her to stay open and trusting. Besides, we do have something to celebrate.
A small smile worms its way onto her face.
"That's better," I hum. I turn my attention to the bottle, picking it up. I peel off the foil and remove the cage, then twist the bottle with a practiced flourish. It pops as it opens, and fizzes, but doesn't spill over. I half fill the cups and pass one to her.
"It's pink," she mumbles, astonished, mesmerized.
"Bollinger Grande Année Rose. 1999, an excellent vintage," I indulge her. This is my favorite champagne.
"In teacups," she says.
I grin. "In teacups," I repeat. "Congratulations on your degree, Anastasia." I clink the edge of my cup against hers and I sip. Mmmm, delicious.
"Thank you," she says and takes a drink herself. "Shall we go through the soft limits?"
I smile at her, eliciting that beautiful blush. "Always so eager," I tease her as I take her hand and guide her over to the couch, where we sit. "Your stepfather's a very taciturn man," I tell her.
"You managed to get him eating out of your hand." Her bottom lip juts out as she pouts.
I laugh. "Only because I know how to fish."
"How did you know he liked fishing?" she asks.
"You told me. When we went for coffee." Does she not remember? I remember nearly every detail of that morning.
"Oh… Did I?" she asks, and takes another sip of her champagne. As she lowers the cup from her lips she says, "Did you try the wine at the reception?"
I remember the couple sips I had as I was talking to Ray, taken from a passing by waiter, and make a face, remembering the taste of it. "Yes. It was foul."
"I thought of you when I tasted it," she tells me. "How did you get to be so knowledgeable about wine?"
"I'm not knowledgeable, Anastasia. I just know what I like." Suddenly, we're not talking about wine anymore… I watch her cheeks turn pink. "Some more?"
"Please."
I fill her cup, and ignore the suspicious look she gives me. Is she catching on to my ploy?
"This place looks pretty bare," I blurt, to divert her attention, "Are you ready for the move?"
"More or less."
"Are you working tomorrow?"
"Yes, my last day at Clayton's," she tells me. Good. She'll be rid of that oaf, then. Well—one of them, at least…
"I'd help you move, but I promised to meet my sister at the airport." How I got roped into that duty – I don't remember. No doubt Mia will talk my ear off and pester me with questions. Despite this, I'm excited to see her. She's been gone, out of my reach, for far too long; my little sister means very much to me.
Ana gazes at me inquisitively, so I explain: "Mia arrives from Paris very early Saturday morning. I'm heading back to Seattle tomorrow, but I hear Elliot is giving you two a hand." I'm sure all through my breakfast meeting and the flight back tomorrow, I'll be thinking about it. He better not take his shirt off in front of Anastasia.
"Yes, Kate is very excited about that," she says.
I frown, thinking of the two together. I don't approve. If the arrangement between me and Anastasia ends badly, what will happen then? Kate will have my balls, and who knows whose side Elliot will take now? "Yes, Kate and Elliot, who would have thought?" I murmur. "So what are you doing about work in Seattle?"
"I have a couple of interviews for intern places."
This is news to me. Why didn't she tell me? "You were going to tell me this when?" I demand.
"Er… I'm telling you now." She turns a little pink.
"Where?" I let it slide. I am, in fact, easing her into this. She will learn soon enough.
"A couple of publishing houses," she says evasively.
"Is that what you want to do, something in publishing?" I ask. I'd actually never given it a thought—what she might want to do with her life, now that she's finished her schooling.
She nods.
"Well?" I push when she doesn't speak.
"Well what?"
"Don't be obtuse, Anastasia, which publishing houses?"
"Just small ones." Again with the stonewalling, and I get the idea that she doesn't want to tell me where she's being interviewed. Why?
"Why don't you want to tell me?" I ask her. Why am I so upset about this?
"Undue influence," she says. I feel my lips turn down, and I decide that once I find out, I'll buy it, just so I can keep my tabs on her, make sure she's safe. "Oh, now you're being obtuse," she scolds.
I laugh, shocked at her audacity. Oh, she could really use a good spanking… "Obtuse? Me? God, you're challenging. Drink up, let's talk about these limits." I pull a copy of the list from my inside jacket pocket, watching as she drinks the rest of her cup.
"More?"
"Please."
I smile to myself. That slow flush is starting to stay in her cheek, and her eyes are getting brighter. The alcohol is starting to make its slow affect. Usually, I wouldn't be encouraging this, but as circumstances are, tonight I am. I reach for the champagne bottle, and realize she's only had two cups. Why is the alcohol reaching her system so quickly?
"Have you eaten anything?" I'm wary of the answer. She's had quite the full day.
"Yes," she snaps, "I had a three-course meal with Ray." I watch as she rolls her eyes at me.
Such defiance! I lurch forward and take her chin in my hand, glaring into her eyes, making sure she sees me, and hears these words. "Next time you roll your eyes at me, I will take you across my knee." The idea is very arousing, and part of me hopes she'll do it again.
"Oh," she whispers, and I can see the surprise in her eyes.
"Oh," I mimic her. "So it begins, Anastasia."
I reach for her cup and fill it once more. She drains practically the entire thing. I can't help but think it's because she's been spurred by my chastisement.
"Got your attention now, haven't I?" I demand, feeling the high of the power I have over her settling in. It's only a tiny hum deep inside, nothing compared to the roaring intensity it takes when I'm in my playroom—but it's still there.
She nods silently.
"Answer me."
"Yes… you've got my attention," she relents.
"Good. So sexual acts. We've done most of this."
She scoots closer to me, her scent crowding its way into my nostrils. Jesus, she smells good.
..
APPENDIX 3
Soft Limits
To be discussed and agreed between both parties:
Does the Submissive consent to:
-Masturbation
-Cunnilingus
-Fellatio
-Swallowing Semen
-Vaginal Intercourse
-Vaginal fisting
-Anal intercourse
-Anal fisting
..
"No fisting, you say. Anything else you object to?" I ask her, once I've read over the list as well, though I could read the thing in my sleep.
I watch her throat convulse as she swallows. "Anal intercourse doesn't exactly float my boat."
"I'll agree to the fisting, but I'd really like to claim your ass, Anastasia." I've wanted to claim it since the first time I saw it. "But we'll wait for that. Besides, it's not something we can dive into. Your ass will need training." I smirk at her—what fun that will be.
"Training?" Her voice is barely a breath.
"Oh yes. It'll need careful preparation. Anal intercourse can be very pleasurable, trust me." I know. "But if we try it and you don't like it, we don't have to do it again." I'm aware that I'm grinning at her. I can't help it. All of this talk excites me.
She blinks at me. "Have you done that?" she whispers.
"Yes," I tell her honestly.
She gasps. "With a man?" Her tone is incredulous, and I would almost be tempted to laugh if her question didn't spur irritation in me. Why does everyone always think I'm gay? I'd like to remind Anastasia how 'not gay' I am.
"No. I've never had sex with a man. Not my scene." My answer manages to come out calm and collected.
"Mrs. Robinson?"
"Yes."
She frowns, but I ignore it, moving on to the next point on the list.
"And… swallowing semen. Well, you get an A in that."
She flushes, and I allow myself to think back to that morning in the tub. For someone so inexperienced, she sure gives good head.
"So. Swallowing semen okay?" I ask her.
She nods; gaze averted, and finishes her cup.
"More?"
"More." I refill her cup.
"Sex toys?" I ask her.
She shrugs, reading over the second section of the list.
..
Does the Submissive consent to the use of:
-Vibrators
-Butt plugs
-Dildos
-Other vaginal/anal toys
..
"Butt plug?" she inquires, "Does it do what it says on the box?" Her nose crinkles slightly.
"Yes. And I refer to anal intercourse above. Training." I'm aware that I'm smiling again.
"Oh… What's in other?"
"Beads, eggs… that sort of stuff."
"Eggs?" she nearly cries, alarmed.
I burst out laughing. Jesus, she is so innocent! "Not real eggs."
She purses her lips at me, and I get the impression that she's not finding this as humoring as I am. "I'm glad you find me funny," she snaps. Oh, she's offended.
I stop laughing. "I apologize, Miss Steele, I'm sorry." I try to look apologetic, but the truth is, I'm just trying to keep myself from laughing again. "Any problem with toys?"
"No."
"Anastasia," I say, surprised now that I truly feel sorry. I never meant to hurt her feelings. "I am sorry. Believe me. I don't mean to laugh. I've never had this conversation in so much detail. You're just so inexperienced. I'm sorry."
She takes another sip from her cup, and her eyes aren't so icy anymore. I think I'm forgiven, so I move on.
"Right—bondage."
..
Does the Submissive consent to:
-Bondage with rope
-Bondage with leather cuffs
-Bondage with handcuffs/shackles/manacles
-Bondage with tape
-Bondage with other
..
"Well?" I ask her.
"Fine," she murmurs, and her eyes return to the page.
..
Does the Submissive consent to be restrained with:
-Hands bound in front
-Ankles bound
-Elbows bound
-Hands bound behind back
-Knees bound
-Wrists bound to ankles
-Binding with spreadbar
-Binding to fixed items, furniture, etc.
-Suspension
Does the Submissive consent to be blindfolded?
Does the Submissive consent to be gagged?
..
"We've talked about suspension. And it's fine if you want to set that up as a hard limit. It takes a great deal of time, and I only have you for short periods of time anyway. Anything else?" I'm having a hard time not picturing her in all the ways the list illustrates, and I try to focus on her answer.
"Don't laugh at me, but what's a spreader bar?"
"I promise not to laugh," I tell her, "I've apologized twice. Don't make me do it again. A spreader is a bar with cuffs for ankles and/or wrists. They're fun."
Oh, Jesus. Get the image of her cuffed to a spreader bar out of your head, Grey.
"Okay… Well, gagging me. I'd be worried I wouldn't be able to breathe," she confesses.
"I'd be worried if you couldn't breathe. I don't want to suffocate you."
"And how will I use safewords if I'm gagged?" she demands.
Her words give me pause. Some sort of horror-slash-dread fills up inside me, making my insides heavy.
"First of all, I hope you never have to use them. But if you're gagged, we'll use hand signals."
She blinks at me a couple times. "I'm nervous about the gagging."
"Okay. I'll take note," I reassure her.
She gazes at me for another moment, and her next question comes out of nowhere, shocking the hell out of me.
"Do you like tying your submissives up so they can't touch you?"
I can't hide the surprise registering on my face. She's seen right through me. For some reason, her knowing that I don't like to be touched disturbs me. I'd rather she didn't question it. "That's one of the reasons."
"Is that why you've tied my hands?"
"Yes," I admit reluctantly. I don't know how to change the subject. I'm frozen in this automatic response loop. No. No. No. Get me out of here.
"You don't like talking about that," she realizes aloud.
"No, I don't." Reason returns, and I'm able to think again. "Would you like another drink? It's making you brave, and I need to know how you feel about pain."
I pour her another cup of champagne, and she swallows. "So, what's your general attitude to receiving pain?" When I look up at her, I find that she's chewing on that lip. "You're biting your lip." Oh, I want to fuck her.
Her lips part and her face turns pink. She stares down at her hands, cradled around the teacup in her lap. She doesn't say anything.
"Were you physically punished as a child?" I push.
"No."
"So you have no sphere of reference at all?" Oh, this may be more difficult than I thought. And more fun… Introducing the world of pleasure/pain to Anastasia Steele… Hmm.
"No."
"It's not as bad as you think," I assure her, "Your imagination is your worst enemy in this."
"Do you have to do it?"
Without question. "Yes."
"Why?" she asks.
Some unnamed emotion settles in my throat. I don't dwell on it long enough to identify it. "Goes with the territory, Anastasia. It's what I do. I can see you're nervous. Let's go through methods."
..
-Spanking
-Whipping
-Biting
-Genital clamps
-Hot wax
-Paddling
-Caning
-Nipple clamps
-Ice
-Other types/methods of pain
..
"Well, you said no genital clamps. That's fine. It's caning that hurts the most." She visibly pales. "We can work up to that."
"Or not do it at all," she protests in a whisper.
"This is part of the deal, baby, but we'll work up to all of this. Anastasia, I won't push you too far," I promise.
"This punishment thing, it worries me the most," she importunes, very quietly. I'm pleased she's being so honest with me.
"Well, I'm glad you've told me. We'll keep caning off the list for now. And as you get more comfortable with everything else, we'll increase intensity. We'll take it slow." Start with a cool pot of water, and warm it up gradually…
She swallows, clearly still nervous, and I lean forward to kiss her. We're done.
"There, that wasn't so bad was it?"
She shrugs, her small shoulders rising, then falling.
"Look, I want to talk about one more thing, then I'm taking you to bed." Abruptly, there's a hornet's nest buzzing in my stomach. I've been thinking of this all afternoon, debating on whether or not to bring it up. I've decided now, that she's been so forthcoming and reticent.
"Bed?" She blinks spasmodically, as if surprised by my intentions.
"Come on, Anastasia, talking through all this, I want to fuck you into next week, right now. It must be having some effect on you, too."
Subtly, she squirms.
"See? Besides, there's something I want to try."
"Something painful?" she asks.
"No—stop seeing pain everywhere." Irritation flares subtly, but I push it back, knowing she's only starting out. I need to be patient with her. Just like I'd like her to be patient with me, regarding this… "It's mainly pleasure. Have I hurt you yet?"
She blushes. "No."
"Well, then. Look, earlier today you were talking about wanting more." I stop, all at once ambiguous. I don't know if I can do this. I've never done anything like this before. I'm not made that way. But I think, for Ana, that I may be willing to try. Just as she is, for me.
I take her hand in mine, feeling her soft, silken skin. It gives me the courage to continue. "Outside of the time you're my sub, perhaps we could try. I don't know if it will work. I don't know about separating everything. It may not work. But I'm willing to try. Maybe one night a week. I don't know."
I don't know if I can see her in the way I'm accustomed to on the weekends, then in an entirely different way during the week. I'm not sure I'm up to it, even now, as I say the words to her. I can't do this—it's not natural, it's not me. But perhaps, it's something… better.
"I have one condition," I tell her.
"What?" she whispers.
"You graciously accept my graduation present to you." The hornet's nest intensifies.
"Oh."
I stare at her, watching and waiting for her response. She appears… confused, but aware, all at the same time.
"Come." I stand, pulling her to her feet with me. I pull my jacket off and drape it over her bare shoulders and back. We head toward the door, and step outside. I watch her absorb the sight of the red hatchback, two-door compact Audi A4.
"It's for you. Happy graduation." I pull her to me, kissing her hair, inhaling the sweet, sweet smell of her. Oh, I hope she likes it, accepts it…
For a long time, she doesn't say anything, only stares at the car, lips slightly parted, eyes wide. I release her from my embrace, keeping her hand, and tug her down the walkway, so she can get a closer look.
"Anastasia, that Beetle of yours is old and frankly dangerous," I find myself wheedling, making a case for my purchase—which I've never had to fucking do before. "I would never forgive myself if something happened to you when it's so easy for me to make it right…"
She stands there, stock-still, silent, eyes glued to the car. Does she love it? Does she hate it? Is she registering any of this? I can't tell.
"I mentioned it to your stepfather. He was all for it."
Finally, she moves, her gaze turning to me, morphing into a ferocious looking glare. "You mentioned this to Ray?" she barks, "How could you?"
"It's a gift, Anastasia," I tell her now, and I can feel the irritability rising. "Can't you just say thank you?"
"But you know it's too much," she protests, flabbergasted.
"Not to me it isn't, not for my peace of mind." Anything to keep you safe, Anastasia.
She frowns, not speaking for a long moment. Finally, she says, "I'm happy for you to loan this to me, like the laptop."
I sigh relenting. If this is the way she will accept it, I suppose this is the way. "Okay. On loan. Indefinitely."
"No, not indefinitely, but for now. Thank you."
I frown, warring with myself about which part of her phrase to focus on.
She stretches up and plants a kiss on my cheek; her lips are so soft. "Thank you for the car, sir," she tells me sweetly.
Those words spur lust like wildfire in my veins, and I clutch her to me, one hand at the middle of her back, securing her against me, the other in her hair, loose, and trailing over her shoulders and down her back.
"You are one challenging woman, Ana Steele." I crush my lips to hers, forcing my tongue into her mouth. Oh, her taste. Her sweet, sweet taste. "It's taking all my self-control not to fuck you on the hood of this car right now, just to show you that you are mine, and if I want to buy you a fucking car, I'll buy you a fucking car. Now let's get you inside and naked." I kiss her once more, and then pull her back toward her apartment.