It's Like Squeezing Water from a Stone

AKA: She is a tiger in kitten's clothes

What if Ana was an experienced and self-confident Submissive when Christian met her? And what if by the time he realized she wasn't a complacent kitten but a stubborn tiger, he couldn't get her out of his mind, his life, and even his bed? Let alone his heart… Christians's POV of It's Like Trying to Get Blood Out of a Stone.

Chapter 1: First meeting
AKA: Christian doesn't know what hits him

Do you suppose she's a wildflower?

I walked into the BDSM club at Portland, hoping to find a gorgeous woman whose body I could enjoy for the following three months. It had been eleven weeks ever since I'd ended my contract with Caroline. Two of those weekends I had spent in New York, one in London, and another two working intensely at Escala. The remaining six weekends I had enjoyed myself, travelling all the way to Portland to that particular BDSM club and spending a few hours with one Submissive or another, unable to find one I wanted to keep for long.

Probably the club's most appealing feature was its location relative to Seattle: it wasn't in my city, where photographers could easily spot me and ruin me, but it wasn't too far away either: just a short helicopter trip away. Of course, it had other attributes: it was nicely furnished, with a modern and unpretentious bar in black and burgundy—where they offered the tastiest virgin drinks I had ever had—and fully equipped playrooms; it had beautiful, varied women happy to submit; and it only allowed members of over twenty-one years old instead of eighteen, which meant fewer scared birds or skittish kittens were around.

I scanned the bar as I looked for a prospective Sub. Two women were blonde, so I discarded them instantly; they'd reminded me too much of Elena, the paedophile I had thrown behind bars years ago, but who had put twisted ideas in my head and pulled me away from my family first.

One was a redhead, who I had caned two weeks ago after a fight with Ros; I wasn't proud of my attitude nor particularly attracted to her, so I discarded her too.

Three had dark raven hair and seemed nice at first glance. One, I noticed, was wearing a yellow band around her left wrist, meaning she wasn't looking for a bedfellow that particular evening. Untouchable. Another I realized to be a Misstress, with a black band around her right wrist; she was flirting with the last black-haired woman, who was wearing a red band—indicating she was taken—and was probably her Sub.

Only one of the women was a brunette. My favourite. And she was wearing a pink band, looking for a Dominant!

I was partial to brunettes, just like my brother preferred blondes. It had taken Flynn years to convince me I wasn't a sadist that thrived on punishing women who had hair similar to my biological mother's. For years, the first few times I punished a new Submissive, I had pictured myself castigating my mother for not taking care of me. During my first year or so as a Dom, I had needed to take it out of my system—to beat the crap out of someone who was alive and at arm's reach—but with time it seemed to become a habit; maybe even a rite of passage for new Subs. I labelled myself a sadist and tried to live with it; I viewed the term as my ball and chain, a painful and heavy penance for my debauchery.

But Flynn insisted the term 'sadist' was outdated. As if that was relevant. He maintained it was a sexual choice, and not an illness; that what I did was fine so long as it was consensual. So he proposed a little experiment: have a non-brunette Sub for a month, don't punish her too roughly and force myself to stay in the here and now instead of travelling back to the unpleasant past. I was ready to prove him wrong; to do my best, like I always did, and show him I was more self-aware than he believed. And then, if he didn't change his song, I'd replace him.

The British bastard had been right.

After the little experiment, black and red-haired women were alright, but I still preferred brunettes. Redheads made me go back to harmful coping mechanisms whenever I was mad at Ros—I succumbed to punishing them in ways I couldn't my second in command—but I had cured myself of brunettes. I didn't have anything against raven-haired women per se, although sometimes they did remind me of my second Dom from back when I had started college in Boston; Louisa had commanded so much respect I sometimes found myself being too soft towards my black-haired Subs.

So the lone brunette it was.

She was drinking something transparent but bubbly, like sparkling water or a lemon-lime soft drink. Dark pink lips were sucking from a straw, the image suggesting yet innocent. I couldn't see her eyes, as they were focused on the bar counter. I was naturally curious about what her eyes could reveal, but not enough to allow her to see my face. I didn't want to risk my… anonymity when she had only signed the club's NDA but not mine in particular.

I approached her, feeling like a lion hunting a doe, and sat down at her right. She kept her eyes focused on her drink but tensed up slightly. She didn't acknowledge me nor start a conversation, as the dynamics in the club dictated this was the Dom's privilege.

Thus, I limited myself to observing her as I ordered some coffee and then sipped it. She was wearing a short burgundy dress that showed off the pale skin of her breasts. I gathered she had C cups; a nice handful. Her naked shoulders would tense and relax at a random pattern, and her cheeks were flushed. She was aware of my attention and intimidated by it, but likely not uncomfortable, as she was free to stand up and leave at any time with no repercussions. Her pink cheeks and twin braids made her look barely twenty-one, but that was the minimum age according to the club's rule so I wasn't worried. I could tell she was rather recent to the lifestyle, but not brand new. She was still adapting.

I excelled at reading people, but there wasn't much more I could tell from just watching her in this environment that wasn't yet her own. Talking was the next step, especially if I didn't want her to flee.

"Good evening," I spoke clearly with a sensual undertone. Her breathing hitched. Good.

"Good evening, Sir," she answered after a few seconds.

"I don't recall having seen you here before."

"I first started coming to the club in September, Sir."

Hmm. I read between the lines, listening for what she hadn't told me. She said she'd first started coming to the club in September, but didn't clarify it was to this club. This, coupled with her youth and lack of comfort and familiarity, told me she had first joined into the lifestyle the last September, only seven months earlier. I preferred my girls more seasoned, but beggars can't be choosers and it urged me to dominate a brunette.

Also, she had first started coming to the club back in September, which didn't necessarily mean she had been a Sub for that long. Most likely, she had worn a yellow band for several weeks and had observed scenes from the outside of rooms with one-way-mirrors—some people enjoyed being watched as they fucked, but it wasn't my thing—before daring to submit herself.

But if she had been around for seven months, why hadn't I seen her before? Most particularly during the last three months, when I had been looking for a Sub. Maybe she had had a contractual Dom up until recently?

"I usually prefer Thursdays and Fridays," she added, still answering my comment about never having seen her before.

And that night was a Saturday, the day I favoured. That was probably it, then. We had never crossed paths before.

"May I ask for how long you've been a Dominant, Sir?" she ventured.

She may ask, but I may choose not to answer, and then she may choose to walk away. And that wasn't agreeable with my night's plans.

"For nine years."

I had first started to train as a Dominant halfway through my first year of college. This was just after my father and grandfather had offered me the money to start my own company so long as I graduated first, moment in which I had also decided to finish school as early as possible. By then I had learnt by example from Louisa, Tanya and Amanda how a good Dom should behave—as opposed to Elena's treatment—, prompting me to decide I was ready to be a Dominant myself. I was done with following other's orders. It was time for me to let go of my problems and take control of my life not by submitting to others, but by focusing on dominating my Sub and nothing else for a few hours.

She nodded once as if she liked what she had heard. Did she feel more comfortable with a more experienced Dom? Probably.

"What about you? For how long have you been submitting?" She tensed at the last word. Submitting. Did she not like the term, or was she still unused to it?

"Six months as of today." What better way to celebrate the anniversary than by embracing her inner freak?

"Six months. And have you learnt much since then?"

She smiled slightly. It looked more like a smirk, really. "Quite a bit, yes. I'm a fast learner." And she had a quick mind. Time to see if she was willing to put her body where her mouth was.

"Are you interested in learning something new tonight?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm a curious person."

I asked for her list of limits and she took a folded white paper from her bag, the latter which had been on the floor between a very nice pair of pale legs.

Her warm fingers brushed mine as she handed me the paper. I unfolded it to reveal quite a long list of limits. Apart from the typical ones enforced by the club (no acts involving urination or defecation and the products thereof, needles, knives, piercing, or blood, gynaecological medical instruments, children or animals, breath control, or acts that would leave any permanent marks on the skin), there were fisting, paddling, caning, belt spanking, biting, hot wax, gagging and suspension. At least the last two were the only forms of bondage she found unacceptable, although bondage with handcuffs/metal restraints was written down above genital clamps in her shorter list of soft limits. Spanking, nipple clamps and ice were the only punishments she found acceptable. A pity.

Oh, well. It wasn't as if I usually took out the belt or cane during the first scene, so it wouldn't be a great loss. Maybe that little brunette wouldn't be good for me as a long-term Sub, but she'd make-do for the night.

Make-do didn't even begin to cover it.

I gave her a few minutes to prepare, and when I walked into the room she was kneeling in nothing but electric blue panties. I removed my shoes, socks and t-shirt, and unbuttoned my over-washed jeans. I walked around her once, and then twice around the playroom, collecting items. Satisfied with my loot, I placed the objects on the bedside table. I only brought along a dark blue blindfold.

"Stand up and remember to keep your eyes on the floor," I instructed her. When joining the club, she ought to have signed an NDA, as well as rules that stated she couldn't look up without permission, but I'd rather be overcautious than with a ruined reputation as CEO. She was clumsy as she stood up, losing her balance halfway but managing to regain it by herself. It was strangely endearing.

I blindfolded her before walking to stand in front of her.

Discordantly, she was the image of grace as she stood straight in front of me, hands behind her back and hair in two braids. Wearing only panties, she didn't look too young, but rather like the statue of a nymph carved from pale marble. Maybe her breasts weren't the fullest I'd ever seen, her legs weren't the longest and her hips weren't the curviest, but all of her good qualities put together made her breathtakingly beautiful. She was one of the most gorgeous women I had ever seen, and I couldn't wait to look at her tied up on the bed.

I kissed her right under her left ear. My lips traced her skin from there, across her neck and to her shoulder, while my hands grabbed her hips. Her skin was soft to the touch and her womanly curves were enticing. She sighed and I shushed her. A little exhalation wasn't a big deal, but I needed to make sure not to set a bad precedent. She wasn't allowed to utter a sound until I said so.

Needing to see her tied up on the bed, I bent to remove her panties. Naked pink flesh met my eyes. She looked good enough to eat.

Then, I guided her towards the bed and helped her climb up. All women I had been with before could get into bed by themselves, even blindfolded, and look sexy while doing it. Clearly, those women were much more used to the furniture of the playroom than this brunette, as well as more agile, because my current Sub needed my help if I didn't wish for her to end up on the floor.

"You're as graceful as a baby panda, aren't you?" I teased her once she was on her back.

"I've been called worse. My mother put me in ballet lessons when I was a kid." She grimaced. She must have ended up with bruised knees quite often.

"Hands above you," I instructed. She complied unhesitatingly, placing them close to the leather shackles incorporated to the bed. "What are your safe words?" I asked her before bonding her. The club enforced the typical traffic light colours to ensure constancy and lack of confusion, so of course I knew what her safe words should be. I just needed to make sure she remembered them.

"Red and yellow, Sir."

"Good."

I efficiently cuffed her wrists and then walked towards the foot of the bed.

"Now tell me if your arms bother you," I instructed as I grabbed her ankles. Without prompting, she lifted her head as I pulled her body towards me, stretching her arms.

"Yellow," she spoke just when I was ready to stop pulling. Her breathing had accelerated and her voice sounded deeper; sexier. I then proceeded to cuff her ankles, and there she was, spread-eagled on the bed before me. She looked so hot, willingly at my mercy. She was so brave, letting a virtual stranger blindfold her and tie her up. And she was so young! I was humbled by her trust in me.

"Are you comfortable?" I checked.

"Yes, Sir."

I picked up the black rabbit-fur glove from the bedside table and put it on, wondering if the girl had been introduced to it yet. It wasn't scary or potentially painful, so I gathered there'd be no harm in surprising her with it. Indeed, when I touched her shoulder with the fur she inhaled deeply but didn't pull away. I caressed her throat, her sternum and her breasts, watching as she got goosebumps. She squirmed slightly while I caressed her breasts but it didn't disturb my ministrations, so I let it be.

I played with her nipples as her breathing accelerated. I noticed movement from the corner of my eyes and looked up. She was biting her lower lip. That pink, full lip. I wanted to bite it too.

"I'm going to kiss you now," I informed her. She didn't safe-word, so I moved closer to her head and bent down. My lips brushed hers lightly, but I couldn't pull back. I kissed her sweet lips and my tongue coaxed its way into her mouth. She was complacent but active in the kissing, not fighting for dominance but still kissing me back. Despite her lack of experience, she was fucking perfect.

Now, I didn't use this word lightly, but I loved her mouth and her soft skin and her bravery, and something told me I'd love her breasts and her belly and her legs, but above all, I'd love her tight, wet pussy. So I bit her lip to get the distracting need out of the way and then I pulled back for air. We were both gasping by the time I was done.

I returned my focus to her responsive body. With my gloved hand, I circled her breasts and when I teased her nipples, she half-whimpered and half-moaned. She practically meowed. "Silence, Kitty," I admonished her. "You're not allowed to make a sound unless I say so."

I knelt between her spread legs and used my un-gloved hand to caress her side and feel the skin of her breast, waist and hip. There is where I settled my free hand as the other caressed her belly slowly and deliberately, watching her skin react to the soft fur and her body trying not to squirm. I circled her belly button and caressed her from hip to hip before moving to her right thigh. I evaded her cunt and caressed her outer thigh all the way to her knee before going back up, that time with my hand on the inner part of her legs. She shivered as I barely grazed her outer lips. She was so responsive.

I repeated the ministration on her other leg before going back up her belly, sternum and chest. Her nipples were hard as pebbles and her mouth open in pleasure by the time I was done with the fur.

I reached for the bedside table to deposit the fur glove and pick the black and red flogger.

"Did you like that, Kitty?" I asked her. My voice was deep with desire, and my cock was begging for attention. It'd have to wait a bit longer. I was having too much fun introducing the inexperienced Sub to new toys.

"Yes, Sir. Very much."

"Good. Do you know what a flogger is?" Above her blindfold, I could see her forehead wrinkle as she frowned for a second or two.

"Yes, Sir."

"Has anyone used it on you before?"

"Yes, Sir, but only a couple of times over a month ago… I liked it." But she still looked a bit tense at the prospect of me using it on her. I couldn't blame her, as she didn't know me at all and couldn't predict how I'd make her feel as opposed to some former Dominant. Thus, I guided the flogger to her right hand.

"Touch it," I instructed. She did as told, running her fingers through the long soft suede tails. "I will use this. It will not hurt, but it will bring your blood to the surface of your skin and make you very sensitive." I paused for a few seconds to let her consider my words. "Is that okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

I started slowly, trailing her right arm, her neck and her sternum. Next, I moved to her breasts and nipples. Soft, barely audible moans escaped her lips. She was trying hard to comply with my order, but the feelings I was causing her were overtaking her body. It was a sight to behold. And did I love her breasts! Her belly. Her hips. Her legs. Her body was fit, and not overly thin nor muscular. She was soft. She was responsive. She was mine. For that night, at least.

I could have said that the only thing she was lacking to be perfect was to be more seasoned, but in all honesty, being able to introduce her to new experiences was exhilarating. I was guiding her to new highs she had never felt before.

If only her list of hard limits wasn't never-ending…

I'd worry about that afterwards. At the moment, I had a sexy brunette spread-eagled in front of me, trying to keep still and silent, and barely doing an acceptable job. It could be fun to train her.

I flicked the tresses of the flogger across her belly and she cried out in surprise. "Silence, Kitty," I admonished her automatically. I wasn't honestly upset with her, as I knew I was asking for too much. Experimenting with touch and sensations could be intense, especially when done right. And I was one of the best.

She kept mostly silent as I caressed her and flicked her body at a random pattern, making her gasp and writhe. Too soon, I couldn't take it anymore and threw the toy aside.

I caressed and venerated her body with my hands and lips. I tasted her. She was… I loved her skin. And I needed more.

My mouth inevitably found her lower lips and her clit, which had exposed itself as if begging for attention. I caressed it with my tongue, drawing circles over it. When the brunette was close to climax—and I, to dry-humping her leg like a teenager—I pulled back.

She whimpered and opened her mouth, but remembered just in time not to complain and let me run the show. Delightful.

I hurriedly removed my jeans and grabbed a sucker—that is, a condom—from its back pocket. I put it on carefully before lying on top of the needy girl.

"Do you want this?" I asked as the tip of my dick barely touched her outer lips.

"Please," she begged.

Bliss. Utter, warm, tight bliss.

I had fucked many women before. Some had been incompatible with me, some had been fine and some had been great. Few had been as amazing as the brunette moaning under me. I stopped just long enough to release her ankles. She needed little prompting to wrap her legs around me, making the angle all the better.

We didn't last long.

I should do this again, but with music.

The girl was exhausted by then, and I had come so hard I wasn't sure when I'd be ready for another round. Although she was so hot it probably wouldn't have taken me that long to recharge.

Plus, I realized right then I'd do whatever to have her again, not that I thought she'd refuse me. She had clearly enjoyed herself.

Thus, I decided to call it a night and get started with the aftercare.

She didn't talk much as I massaged her arms, shoulders, back and legs.

"Tell me… Is your list of hard limits so long because you haven't got around to trying out those things yet?" I asked her.

"Partly, Sir. I tried the milder forms of punishment but I didn't like them, so I opted not to move forwards."

"Maybe you didn't try them with the right Dominants."

"A punishment with a paddle will still hurt, Sir. I don't have high pain tolerance," she answered, her shoulders tensing and her tone of voice hardening. It was counter-productive for the massage, so I let it drop. I believed pain tolerance could be improved, but I could also see there was no point in discussing it with a fledgling.

"I see… Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Kitty?"

"Hmm…" she moaned in relaxed pleasure. "Very much, Sir."

"Good. How would you like doing this again tomorrow?"

We met again on Sunday, thinking maybe I'd be able to fuck her out of my system. Having been aware that might not be the case, I had shown up with a contract similar to the club's standard one, but stating that for the following month she'd have only me as a Master, and that under no circumstance could she look at my face. I also brought along my own NDA.

In short, if she agreed, we'd limit our meetings to the BDSM club instead of Escala—mostly on Saturdays and maybe some Thursdays or Sundays—and we'd be in a contractual 'relationship' for a single month instead of my preferred three.

The truth was that the sexy brunette was too brave and beautiful as for me to forget her, but her ridiculously long list of hard limits made me wary of suggesting a longer compromise. Also, to make her my full-time Submissive would take effort and time I didn't possess, and it was hard to tell if it'd bear fruit. Thus, four weeks with intermittent meetings sounded like a good middle point.

Except it wasn't.

Instead of fucking her out of my system, she seemed to get under my skin.

I thought about the inexperienced pretty brunette every day. I did so as I worked out in the mornings, played the piano in the evenings and, most importantly, lay down in bed at night. Only my consuming job as a CEO gave me a respite from recalling that lithe body of hers writhing in front of me, because of me.

She was brave and complacent, and some twisted part inside me enjoyed making her mad and watching her struggle to find her words to express her anger.

…Of course, I had misinterpreted her stammering; she had had trouble controlling her angry words, not finding them. At first, I had mistakenly assumed the complacent submissive didn't know how to be mad. She'd reminded me of a fuming kitten, her anger coming out in waves but lacking words.

And then, during our seventh scene—exactly two weeks after she had signed the contract—I stupidly tried to coax her into letting me try the paddle on her butt one more time. I already knew she was brave and always willing to experiment, and even if a few weeks earlier I had decided it'd be fruitless to try to talk her into a little more pain, I had succumbed to my selfish desires. A fierce tiger came out then, ready to shred me to pieces. Not a single submissive bone hid under that pliable skin!

Where had that tiger come from? Where was my playful kitten? A livid Goddess lay before me, not any less impressive in her rightful anger just because she was blindfolded and flat on her back. She did have the right to be upset with me as I was crossing a line, and that combined with my shock meant punishing her didn't cross my mind. A first for me.

I even considered grovelling the next Saturday when we met at the club and I gave her a copy of my standard contract. My Kitty—who was everything but a pussy—had found her way into the forefront of my mind and I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

She was though! When we met again the following day, she straight up refused my proposal, stating I should have already known a Total Exchange Power relationship wasn't her thing. And of course, I had suspected as much, but I needed her in my playroom, tied up and wet for me, so I had to at the very least try.

We met again that Wednesday—not our usual day, but I had gone to WSU and she had been available. I brought up the contract once again and she refused me. We only had a few days of the contract left, and because she had informed me she was moving out of Portland, I was sure afterwards I'd never see her again.

My chest actually ached when she texted me Friday evening to let me know she was sick and unavailable. Had she grown tired of me? Was she looking for excuses not to see me again? I hadn't got one last chance to show her how good we were together! I hadn't even said goodbye.

She contacted me again the following day, that time with a phone call. She sounded like shit and I wanted to drive to her place and drag her to a doctor, but it wasn't within my right or capability, as I didn't know her name, let alone her address.

That was it. I needed to move on.

They say good things come to those who wait, but all through the weekend and Monday morning, I was impatient and grumpy as fuck. Nevertheless, Anastasia Steele walked into my life with those deep blue eyes and smart mouth.

As a CEO, I liked to think that good things come to those who make shit happen. But honestly, I just got lucky Miss Kavanagh was indisposed.

I was supposed to be interviewed for the WSU paper that afternoon by Mr Kavanagh's daughter, as I'd be conferring the diplomas in three weeks. It was for publicity. I didn't like it, but the more investments for WSU, the better. They were after all using the money to investigate the most efficient ways of farming.

Yet it was one Miss Steele who showed up instead. The few unknown visitors who made it to my floor had to go through a background check before meeting with me. Luckily, my security team had everything they needed by the time she was done talking to Andrea, as Miss Steele's private information wasn't protected by anyone powerful, so it wasn't hard to find.

For the moment, that is.

Now her information is as safe as mine.

At one o'clock on the dot, I asked Andrea to let Miss Steele into my office, and seconds later the door was being opened by a gorgeous brunette. My gorgeous brunette. She may have been wearing a smart grey dress rather than a sexy one, her skin may have been covered from breastbone to knees, and her hair may have been down, but I could have recognized that woman anywhere. She hunted my every sleeping moment, and many of my waking ones too.

Still, I kept my cool. I wasn't the kind of person who shows their cards.

"Miss Steele? A pleasure to meet you," I spoke as I walked towards her. I extended my right hand to greet her properly. Gentlemanly.

Her deep blue eyes widened and her mouth opened as she took in my face, and then my right hand. My hand? Sure, she had seen it, unlike my face, but it couldn't be that recognizable.

"Ma—Mr Grey," she stuttered. She knew who I was. This is going to be entertaining.

"I hear Miss Kavanagh is indisposed," I said, smirking at her incredulity. Of course, I was as surprised as her. I had resigned myself to never seeing her again, but there she was, in my office.

After a second or two, she composed herself and stood taller, with her back straight and a defiant look on her face. There was the Goddess. The tiger. The kitten clothes had been shredded and exchanged for a smart dress. The Sub had been locked away in a playroom somewhere, and Anastasia Steele had come out to play. It was a pleasure to meet her, and I couldn't wait to find out more about her. Strangely enough.

"That she is, sir. It seems I passed on to her my case of tonsillitis," she answered in a no-nonsense voice. It sounded unnatural and unusual to me, and I wondered if she was forcing herself to sound less mellow than she was.

"Oh. I hope you are feeling better," I replied, bending slightly towards her. Let's see how in control she was with my body too close to her.

"I woke up feeling brand new this morning," she answered with a trembling voice but hard eyes, trying to fake nonchalance.

"I'm glad to hear that, Kitty," I whispered in her ear. Her facade came apart before my eyes. She bit her lip like she did when she was turned on. Her striking blue eyes hooded. The strong Goddess was gone once again, and I gathered she was more kitty than tiger, instead of the other way around. I wondered if she was more submissive than she'd like to think.

"Shall we?" I asked, motioning toward the white couches before walking towards them, away from the tempting brunette. Anastasia.

A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

She followed me like a good girl and sat down on the extreme of the couch opposite mine.

"Do you mind if I record this?" she asked, taking the recorder out of her bag before waiting for my approval. I frowned, not liking her brazenness. Nonetheless, I gestured for her to go ahead. I did want to be on her good side.

She set the mini-disk recorder on the coffee table carefully, as if she could break it because of her clumsiness. Then, she took a piece of paper, a small notebook and a pencil from her bag. She cleared her throat and began to talk.

"You're very young to have amassed such an empire, Mr Grey. To what do you owe your success?" she asked, voice firm but cheeks flushed and legs tense. She was making an effort to look put together, but I knew her tells.

The question was disappointing. Bland. I hadn't had the chance to talk too much with my Kitty, only chattering a bit during aftercare and sometimes beforehand on the bar, but I had gathered she had a quick mind and a smart mouth.

This bland question I usually matched with a bland standard answer that had been printed dozens of times before, but I wasn't talking with some boring reporter; I was talking with a smart kinky kitten who I could tease a bit.

"You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that question. That's not very original."

"Maybe I'll be able to get some unprecedented answers out of you," she flirted. There she was! The side of Anastasia I barely knew but I enjoyed talking with. This part of her that respected her Master but didn't fear a CEO that could bring her to her knees, and talked to me as if I were a dominating human being instead of the scariest boss in Seattle. She fared me less than Andrea but more than Ros, and she let me fuck her kinkily. She was my favourite.

And she was hilarious too! Her own words registered in her mind and she stared at the recorder horrified, blushing. I gathered she was supposed to share the audio with someone later. Probably Miss Kavanagh.

I snickered at her pink cheeks and horrified eyes—so, so beautiful blue eyes, deep as oceans, but peaceful and warm like the Adriatic Sea.

She glared at me and it was… refreshing. Only my siblings glared at me like that, unafraid of repercussions. Sometimes Ros too, but usually during a spar and only because she was giving as good as she got.

My dynamic that afternoon with Anastasia was different from anything I knew. I had been unreachable for as long as I could remember, and intimidating for half as long. But the tiger cub in front of me didn't much care if I was a CEO, and at that moment I wasn't her Dom anymore, so she treated me as if I were… Elliot. Just some guy. A part of me liked it, but a part of me loathed it, so I didn't give her any unprecedented answer, but my standard one.

"Business is all about people, Miss Steele, and I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well. My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it's always down to good people."

She didn't seem to approve of my words, the warm sea from her eyes turning a bit colder, and eyebrows rising slightly in censure as if I were the misbehaving Sub.

"Do you have any interests outside of work?" she asked after I was done, reading from the piece of paper. She blushed. She knew I liked tying up women—especially pretty brunettes—and fucking them with all kinds of toys or reddening their butt cheeks.

I smirked one more time at her discomfort, and she repeated the pattern by showing her disapproval with raised eyebrows and failing to look challenging because of her flaming cheeks—as well as dilated eyes and clenched thighs. There was my angry kitten, harmless and endearing.

"I have varied interests, Miss Steele. Very varied." Making her squirm was one of them, but apparently not only when she was naked.

"But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?"

"Chill out?" For an instant, she reminded me of the too young girl with a sinful dress but adorable twin braids I had met exactly a month before. "I fly, sail and indulge myself in other... physical pursuits," I explained, roaming her figure with my eyes and remembering how it looked like naked and flushed with desire.

Indeed, her skin turned red from her cheeks to her covered chest as I stared at her indecently. Her nipples reacted to my attention, going hard as pebbles for me. I hadn't even touched her at all! She was delightfully responsive and so in tune with me. I had to win her over.

She bit her lower lip and rubbed her thighs together, turned on and needy for me. I smirked at her response to my ogling—I had only undressed her with my eyes, but she looked ready for me to feast on her—and she gave as good as she got by staring pointedly at my crotch, where I could feel my dick standing on attention. She knew I wasn't as unaffected as I had tried to imply. I had been striving to one-up her—to make her show her arousal—but she had managed to even the score at my own game without even trying.

Her eyes went back to her piece of paper. "You invest in manufacturing. Why specifically?"

"I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct." I smiled as I talked. I was passionate about this subject. It made me feel warm to think about it. "And I also have a love of ships. What can I say?" A fleeting memory of myself sailing with Mac filled my mind, followed by a daydream of Anastasia accompanying me. I liked the image, yet I shoved it out of my mind. The Grace wasn't a place to take one of my Subs.

"That sounds like your heart talking rather than facts." Joy abandoned my head and features.

"Possibly. Though there are people who'd say I don't have a heart." Most, really, excepting my family and Flynn. Past experiences—mainly my early childhood, but my hard adolescence too—had made me not only closed off to touch, but also feelings. I had built walls around my heart, not only making it unreachable but also unable to grow. It had withered and darkened. I held my family in there, and I wasn't willing to let anyone else in.

"Why would they say that?" she asked, partly sad and partly defensive, as if she was ready to bring her wrath to the mere mortals who had dared to suggest so. It was warming to be behind the tiger instead of in front of it.

"Because they know me well," I answered with a wry smile. Whatever good Anastasia thought she'd seen in me in between spanking her and fucking her roughly was only in her imagination. I was a Beast, and there was no Prince hidden behind my over-washed unbuttoned jeans.

The subject seemed to upset her, and she decided to move on.

"You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?"

"We can't eat money, Miss Steele, and there are too many people on this planet who don't have enough to eat." I had known hunger as a child, and once I had amassed the money needed to improve other people's situation, it had become my responsibility to do so.

"That sounds like the heart talking once again," she smirked, as if being able to contradict me was the highlight of her day. I loved how easily pleased she was. If only it wasn't at my expense. I frowned at her bragging and she took notes in her notebook, reminding me of my least favourite shrinks.

Being around a dressed Anastasia was even less fun than I had anticipated.

"Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?" she moved on.

"I don't have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle—Carnegie's: 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.' I'm very singular, driven. I like control—of myself and those around me." Most particularly you, Anastasia Steele, and right now I want to place you across my knees and spank that attitude out of you.

"So you like to possess things?" she asked with an ironic smile and looked pointedly at the recorder, silently reminding me of its presence. Honestly, I had forgotten all about it.

"I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do." And soon, I'd make her mine.

Yet she looked at me with challenge written all over her face, as if promising she wouldn't succumb to my advances. I smirked, knowing I would win her over. Soon, I'd have her spread-eagled in my own playroom at Escala, begging to be touched and regretting the lost time because of having refused me at first. I knew how much she wanted me, and that no Dom had or would ever compare to me.

I stared at her as she found the next question. "You've had... Did you have to sacrifice your family for work?" she asked.

"I have a family," I answered tersely. I might have ignored them in my teenage years because of drinking and then Elena, and I might not have enjoyed bursting their bubble of happiness with my sombre presence as an adult, but none of it was because of GEH. "I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that." Romance wasn't in the cards for me. I didn't crave it, nor did I feel capable of being in a loving relationship with a woman, and I sure as hell didn't want children running around me!

Anastasia looked down at her list of questions and started laughing hysterically.

"What is it?" I asked, finding her hilarity amusing, and annoyed both by my thoughts and her strange reaction at reading whatever was on her own sheet of paper.

She reached out to stop the recording disk.

"My roommate would like to know whether you are gay," she answered, giggling. So the questions weren't her own but Miss Kavanagh's. And, most importantly, my desire for women was in question. As if Anastasia could doubt how much I wanted her.

"I think you know the answer to that question, Kitty," I answered, my voice deep and seductive as I thought of my desire for the confusing creature sitting in front of me.

She stopped laughing immediately. Her eyes looked back at mine with reflected lust and she bit her lip. I finally reached out to touch her, freeing her pink lip from her unforgiving teeth.

"Don't bite your lip, Anastasia. You know what it does to me," I instructed with the same lustful voice, making her squirm and gasp lightly. How I wanted to push her down on the couch and take her then and there, in my un-christened office. And how I loved the way her unusual name sounded on my lips.

I needed her.

Unwilling to keep my distance anymore, I leant to kiss her sweet mouth. I kept it short and simple, pulling back after a few seconds to assure her consent and reciprocation. She looked as turned on as earlier if not more, and neither upset nor reluctant at all, so I returned for more. The second kiss was much more passionate and lustful, full of the repressed need I had felt for her during the last three days, in which I had believed I'd lost her amazing body and entertaining company for good. I felt like a parched man drinking soothing water for the first time in days.

My tongue tried to dominate her mouth and she fought back. She didn't merely kiss me back, but she battled for power. Her fingers found my hair, pulling me closer. Our combat excited me. I hadn't been kissed like that ever before. For the last nine years, I had dominated every kiss, and before that, I had willingly succumbed to older women's power. This experience was new and unprecedented, and surprisingly hot.

We eventually had to pull back for air, but my need for her had only grown. Thus, I kept kissing her along her soft jaw and neck, tasting her skin.

Suddenly, her hands abandoned my hair and she pulled back, away from me. "Stop," she requested at the same time and I complied. I might have been insisting and pushy, but I'd never force myself on her.

"What is it?" I asked frustrated. I did still want and need her body. Kissing her had my cock aching for attention.

"You know what we had is over. Stop pushing it. I refuse to give you what you want from me." I just wanted more of what we had been doing, in the comfort of my own home, and for a longer period of time. And, granted, I wanted more control over her than I already had. I craved dominating her, and as a Sub, she must have wanted it too. Being a fledgling, she was probably too afraid to embrace it; to let go completely and let me take care of her.

"Go out with me to dinner tomorrow night," I suggested. We needed to talk more. I needed a chance to explain to her what else I could give her. There was a whole new chapter—dozens of them—about being in BDSM that she had yet to explore. I wanted to be the one to guide her and teach her.

"Are you even listening to me?" she screeched.

I didn't expect to have angered her so. I had summoned the tiger, but I didn't know how.

"We need to sit down and talk. Let me explain to you what it would consist of if you signed the contract."

Instead of calming down, she seemed to get even more upset.

"You don't need to explain anything to me. You'll be happy to find I can actually read." Sarcasm and vitriol flowed from her mouth and her eyes turned icy. I glared at her, disapproving of her disrespect and attitude. "I've already gone through the contract, and I don't like it one bit. I'm my own person, and that's not going to change," she continued firmly. A few minutes ago I had concluded she fared me more than Andrea but less than Ros, yet I was already reconsidering that assumption. "Just because I like being tied up and controlled in the bedroom doesn't mean I like being bossed around 24/7! I'm my own independent person. I'm very self-sufficient. I'm not going to let you change who I am."

I didn't want her to change. She was a wildflower, vibrant, kinky and brave. One of a kind. I just wanted her to be mine.

Yet she didn't want to be owned.

She was one confusing Submissive.

I was too taken aback by her refusal and angry speech, but I got back to earth when she said, "See you at graduation, Christian. I can walk myself out."

She was leaving.

She had spoken my name.

She was about to walk out of my life.

"Wait, Anastasia. Just dinner. I promise I'll behave." It was my last opportunity. I gave her my best panty-dropping smile and her anger evaporated. "I just want to discuss things. You know communication is important in the lifestyle that you and I enjoy. Let us sit down to talk like adults."

"Like equal adults or you won't know what hit you," she answered like an angry kitten rather than a furious tiger.

"I'll pick you up Friday night at eight. Text me your address," I said, walking her towards the door.

She had said yes!

Maybe not to the contract itself, but yes to seeing me again. We'd meet once more, but this time to sit down and speak. She'd get to talk to me about her worries, and I'd get to soothe them and introduce her to my way of doing things.

I accompanied her all the way to the elevator, much to the surprise of Andrea and Olivia. I pressed the button to call for the elevator and we waited in silence, ignoring my secretaries.

Sadly, the elevator was state-of-the art, so it arrived at my floor in a matter of seconds. Anastasia walked in without looking at me and pressed the button to the ground floor. Only then did she turn around.

"Anastasia," I nodded goodbye, losing myself in her deep blue eyes, once again as warm as the Adriatic Sea. I added those ocean-deep eyes to my list of things I loved about Anastasia Steele.

"Christian," she answered, just as the doors closed.

It felt too much like a permanent goodbye, even if I knew it wouldn't be so. I'd be seeing her again that Friday.

Still, my stomach felt uncomfortable. I couldn't recall feeling like that ever before, being usually more self-assured, and I didn't like it one bit.

I didn't know what side was up anymore. One minute Anastasia was a complacent kitty, submissive and obedient. The next she was a tiger, strong and unyielding. Which side of her was real? Hopefully the first, in which case she had the potential to be the perfect Sub, if only she'd stop being afraid of that part of herself and embrace it.

I was looking not at what was there, but at what I wanted to see.

Anastasia Steele was a Goddess who had an Inner Kitty that liked to get out to play now and then.

And I was in for a rude awakening.

I am back! Well, I never left. I've been working on this fic for two years... Like heppened, and I didn't always have time to write, but now it's 99% finished and I decided to publish the first chapter today, 12 years after 50 Shades was first published (WOW! It's been so long!). I'm going to be publishing a new chapter twice a week.

As usual, you can find the pictures related to this fic in my pinterest account.

Let me know what you think of the first chapter!

Here goes the disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on existing characters, settings, and/or events from Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James. The original characters, settings, and/or events are the property of E.L. James. This work of fiction is not authorized, approved, licensed, or endorsed by the creators, owners, or licensors of the original work. I have no commercial affiliation with the creators, owners, or licensors of the original work, and this work is not intended for commercial use or distribution. I have received no monetary or other compensation for the writing of this fanfiction (just your nice comments). I make no claim of ownership of the original work and do not intend to infringe on any copyrights or trademarks associated with the original work.