Chapter 6: The best therapy
AKA: Strenuous Sunday

You make me forget everything.

You are the best therapy.

"Shit! It's my mother!" I exclaimed. I pulled out of Anastasia in a hurry. "We need to get dressed," I said as I rushed towards my walk-in closet. I wasted no time in picking a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and got dressed as quickly as possible.

"Christian," whined Anastasia from the bedroom.

I hoped she had nothing against meeting my mother. For once I wasn't bedding a woman who felt like a dirty secret, and whom I'd rather introduce to my mother than let her arrive to her own conclusions about the company I was keeping behind closed doors.

Once I stepped back into the bedroom I realised Anastasia's problem had been the tie I had forgotten I'd tied her up with.

"What—? How did you do that?" I asked her when I realised she'd managed to untie herself.

Nonchalant, she slithered towards the edge of the bed and placed the grey tie on top of my pillow.

"My Dad was in the army. He taught me all kinds of self-defence skills, including how to escape if someone ties me up."

"So if I left you tied up spread eagled on the playroom's bed, you'd be able to escape?" I wondered. It was actually relieving to know she wasn't defenceless while being tied up. Hmm… Anastasia tied up to my four-poster bed…

"I don't know. Maybe? I'd rather not test it out," she said with a wince.

"I'd never leave you tied up by yourself, Anastasia," I promised. "Now, up you go. Get dressed so you can meet my mother. Another first."

"I can't," she answered, eyes wide like the ones of a scared doe. She glanced at the improperly revealing black dress she'd worn the night before, which was lying on the floor, and then at her bag, which I'd left on a black chair.

"I thought you brought a change of clothes with you," I pointed out, lifting an eyebrow.

"I did. I brought a smart-ass t-shirt," she answered, as if that could possibly make sense. I chuckled at her reply nonetheless, amused by her characterization of an inanimate object.

She opened her bag and didn't have to rummage before finding her t-shirt. She showed it to me: it was black and had the words 'BETTER SORE THAN SORRY," written in white and gold. The word 'SORE' was definitely the most noteworthy of them all.

I looked at her t-shirt and then her flushed face for a few seconds, trying to process what I was seeing, before bursting out with laughter.

By the time I had calmed down, Anastasia was giving me her best scolding look, arms crossed under her distracting bare breasts. I reached blindly into her bag, looking for the rest of her outfit, and pulled out the first thing I found: a pink lacy bra.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to look into a woman's bag?" she asked, upset.

"She did. Now put this on before I do it myself," I replied threateningly, throwing the garment at her. "Don't worry. I'll greatly enjoy removing it later," I added with a smirk.

She huffed childishly and hurriedly put on her bra and the matching pink panties she produced from her bag. Once again I got distracted by my kitty's body, this time in lingerie. She noticed my staring and bit her lip provocatively. She was a tempting nymph and she knew it. Her body was my weakness, and she enjoyed it.

"Hurry, Anastasia. Put on the rest of your clothes," I insisted.

Reluctantly, she put on the smart-ass t-shirt—that'd teach her not to be so cocky—and a pair of denim shorts.

Once she was done, I barely managed not to laugh at her little ensemble.

I loved how her inner tiger had come back to bite her in the ass.

"Your mother is going to hate me," she whined.

"She's going to love you," I swore, positive the kind woman standing in front of me would take away half of Grace's concerns, even if she'd be mistaken to think I was in a normal romantic relationship. "Do you go out running like that?" I asked incredulous and amused, realising why the shy kitten would own a t-shirt like that.

"Only with Kate. We have matching t-shirts."

It didn't surprise me.

"Of course you do," I laughed as I opened the door.

"Wait! How's my hair?" she asked. I looked at it for a second or two. It was wet and messy.

"It's looked better. It's also looked worse."

Without a word, Anastasia ran back to the bathroom.

"I'll be in the living room," I informed her. "You better hurry!"

I strutted to the main living area as if this was a normal, planned visit from my mother, and found Grace sitting properly but somehow stiffly on a couch. She gave me a forced smile when she saw me, stress transparent in her eyes. She didn't know what she had walked into, and she expected the worst. I couldn't wait until she saw Anastasia.

My reaction was the opposite of the one I would have had with any other Submissive.

For the first time in my life, I wanted my mother to meet the woman I was sharing my weekends with.

For the first time in my life, I had developed a relationship I was proud of, even if I didn't understand that yet.

"Mother," I greeted her, and she stood up to kiss me hello. "Thank you, Taylor," I spoke to my CPO, who scurried away. "This is an unexpected surprise," I commented to my mother. She wasn't one to just show up unannounced; otherwise, she probably wouldn't still wonder about my sexual life or lack of thereof.

"I haven't seen you in weeks, dear," she explained as we sat down. I chose the seat that would give me the best view of Anastasia's arrival. My mother, on the other hand, had her back towards the corridor. Out of sight, out of mind… She probably didn't expect to be introduced to my bedfellow. "And at this rate, I wasn't going to until Mia's arrival on Friday."

"I'm sorry. My schedule hasn't been the best…" I glanced at the corridor that led to my bedroom, wondering what was taking Anastasia so long. She was only supposed to brush her hair. "I've been very busy with work, but things should calm down in a few days."

"I had a feeling you'd be slaving away in your study," she answered. "You work too hard, darling. I thought I might drag you away."

"You needn't worry so much," I replied, amused. Anastasia was doing her best to keep me away from my job. Once again I looked up to see if she was on her way, and I found her standing by the corridor, all of her bravado gone. "Here she is!" I exclaimed. Indeed, there was not only Anastasia, but also the Kitty I had met weeks ago. I had begun to believe I had imagined her!

My mother's eyes widened in shock, amusing me. She smiled widely, with happiness coming out of her whole face, and turned to look at my blushing girl.

I couldn't recall the last time I'd done something that made Grace smile so widely, and it was all thanks to the angel standing shyly several feet away from us.

My mother and I stood up as Anastasia approached us. "Mother, this is Anastasia Steele. Anastasia, this is Grace Trevelyan-Grey."

They shook hands.

"Please, call me Grace, dear," she asked her sweetly. I was glad to see my mother so instantly taken with my new friend. It would seem the brunette was a Grey's whisperer. It had taken her just as long to win over Elliot.

"Then you must call me Ana, please," she answered shakily.

My mother smiled at her again as she sat down, and I followed her lead. Anastasia stood frozen, clearly uncomfortable, and I patted at the cushion next to mine. She sat down unhesitatingly.

It was clear the instant Grace's eyes noticed the words on Anastasia's t-shirt, as she looked amused. Anastasia squirmed lightly.

"So how did you two meet?" my mother asked.

"Anastasia interviewed me for the student paper at WSU because I'm conferring the degrees there this week," I said, technically not answering the question, but not lying either. I was glad I had a normal and real story to tell.

"So you're graduating this week?" Grace asked her, still beaming.

"I am. I'm getting my degree in English."

"That's why you're in the paper," my mother concluded.

"Actually, I'm not. My roommate Kate was supposed to do the interview, but she got sick."

"Well, it was nice of you to replace her."

Nice didn't begin to cover it. It had been a fucking awesome miracle. If she hadn't stood in for Miss Kavanagh, Anastasia and I may never have met again.

"I am the one who passed on tonsillitis to her in the first place."

"I'm glad," I muttered.

"Christian!" Anastasia exclaimed admonishingly, the kitten suddenly gone as quickly as she'd come so the tiger could protect her friend.

"What? I'm glad it was you who came into my office instead of her," I justified myself. Anastasia blushed for the hundredth time.

"It doesn't mean it is okay to be glad someone got sick," Grace scolded me, although she looked somehow pleased at my words. "Well, I'm glad I found you here," she added after a few seconds of silence. "Elliot did mention you'd be likely to be at your apartment."

"Did he, now?" That asshole would be paying. I knew the fact that he was fucking Anastasia's roommate would eventually lead to trouble.

"Yes. I called him and found out he was in Portland, but he told me you were around." Of course he did. "I wouldn't have come if I had known you had company, though. I am sorry to intrude," she added, looking at Anastasia, who blushed furiously.

"It would seem Elliot forgot to mention Anastasia," I said matter-of-factly, preparing to give the final blow. "You see, he knew she'd be here, as he spent the night with Anastasia's roommate Kate," I spoke, beaming proudly at myself. It always brought me great satisfaction to one-up Lelliot. "He seemed quite smitten," I added deceivingly, making Grace look both surprised and pleased.

Anastasia shot me a sceptical look and I winked at her.

Maybe Elliot had been more smitten with the sex than the blonde herself, but my mother needn't know the details.

"I'm glad I don't have siblings," Anastasia spoke. "I've noticed they tend to shove each other under the bus when their parents are present." I frowned at the smart-ass sitting at my side as Grace laughed.

"Well, I must get going," she said, standing up. We followed her lead. "I'll let you both be. I'll see you next weekend, darling," she added, referencing Mia's welcome family dinner. "And hopefully you too, Ana."

The brunette blushed, fidgeted and looked at me with worried eyes. This was not something she had agreed to, nor what I was comfortable with. The fact that both my brother and mother had met her was unusual enough. I was done with sharing Anastasia with my family. Plus, I didn't need my mother to believe she was my girlfriend.

Damn! I hope it isn't too late for that.

"Anastasia will be very busy next Friday; she's moving to Seattle."

"Oh, that's great. And don't forget to pick your sister at the airport, darling."

"Of course I won't, mother," I answered. As if I could forget such a thing.

My mother shook Anastasia's hand and kissed me goodbye. Taylor, always so attentive, appeared from his office to walk Grace to the door. As soon as she was out, Anastasia exhaled in relief.

"It wasn't that bad!" I exclaimed amused as she let herself fall on the couch, acting as though she had just ran a marathon.

"Of course it was! I've never met a guy's Mum before. Especially a Mum that thinks I'm her son's girlfriend. Even worse! A Mum that almost walked in on her son and I having..." she fluttered her hands nervously, "having..."

"Sex?" I asked, as amused as usual by her selective shyness. As I'd expected, her cheeks went pink. She nodded, closing her eyes as if in despair, and I chuckled. "Can you say 'sex' for me, baby?"

"Only if you make me mad first," she muttered, referencing our discussion at the Heathman.

She was amusing. She was fun, beautiful, had just enchanted my mother, and I didn't mind it anymore when she got mad at me. It was dangerous, and I needed to redirect our weekend to what it was supposed to be about: sex with no strings attached.

"Come," I said, extending one of my hands towards her slumped figure. She opened her eyes slowly and grabbed my offered hand. I practically had to drag her into a standing position. So overdramatic. "I better take off these clothes before you get them dirty. You won't have anything to wear on our trip back to Portland otherwise," I bullshitted, making her giggle. I helped her out of her suggestive t-shirt and shorts—I'd make her sore all right—and handed them to her. "Go and put this back in your bag. Then go explore your bedroom... or the library," I suggested. Something told me she'd be more interested in the books than the lingerie.

Indeed, she beamed when I mentioned the library and I couldn't help but to smile back. No one had ever made me smile and laugh so much. It was hard not to love Anastasia. "I'll be in my office. I want to have lunch around 12:30. What about some pasta? There are some frozen ravioli and tomato sauce in the freezer. Use those."

"Yes, Sir."

I went straight to my studio and away from the distracting Goddess. First, I texted Taylor and told him to lock down the apartment to prevent any more visits and to make himself scarce. The last thing I needed was for someone to see Anastasia in sexy underwear.

I slaved away in my home office for the next few hours, but I finished that day's work by noon. Lunch with Anastasia was as enjoyable and intellectually stimulating as I'd expected, as well as exciting in other ways: she was, after all, still wearing nothing but her pink lacy lingerie. The little outfit had short straps in a few selected points—like between her breasts—distracting me ever so often and making me think of her tied up to every piece of furniture in my playroom.

Our conversation began with The Book Thief and mover through several other books we'd enjoyed. Anastasia revealed she was an Austen fan, and I pondered on how she craved no romance in her own life, but yes in the ones of the book heroines.

Once we were done with lunch, I opted to help Anastasia clean the table. She rinsed the plates and loaded the dishwasher, for which she bent, exposing her ass lasciviously.

I stepped right behind her, and as soon as she stood up I placed my hands on her naked hips, caressing the soft skin there. I pressed my mouth against her ear, making her shiver, and whispered, "You have ten minutes to get ready and meet me in the playroom, Kitty. Don't forget to keep your panties on."

I was anxious to know if she'd choose to follow that order, or if she'd tease me once again. With any other Sub I wouldn't have even contemplated the idea of her not obeying that simple rule, but with Anastasia not only didn't I mind such breach in protocol: I was looking forward to being surprised, either because she had done as told, or because she hadn't.

"Yes, Sir," she answered breathlessly before rushing upstairs.

I took my time while changing clothes, removing the ones I was wearing and putting on my washed-up soft jeans. I was anxious and eager about staging our first scene together in my own playroom, but I didn't feel like that moment could make us or break us anymore. I already felt she was secure at my side, and I didn't have to win her over anymore. Of course, I'd still do my damn best to make her want to stay for… well, for as long as we wanted. I didn't think this time around I'd get bored after under six months.

I waited exactly ten minutes before climbing up the stairs. I walked into the playroom silently and closed the door behind me before focusing on Anastasia.

As expected, she was on her knees and with her eyes focused on the floor.

As I had half-predicted, she wasn't wearing her pink panties, yet she surprised me with what seemed to be a sheer black ensemble of panties, stockings and corset. I went hard instantly. I couldn't wait to see all of her once she was standing up.

While on one hand, she painted an alluring picture, on the other, she had broken yet another rule, and that couldn't go unpunished. It was a fine line she was walking, misconducting every now and then, and while I liked the place in which we were—there was no fun in her respecting every rule and giving me no reason to spank her—I needed to make sure she moved no further. At the end of the day, I was still the Dominant, and she, the (misbehaving) Submissive.

"I do believe I told you to wear your pink panties, Kitty," I scolded her with my best domineering voice. "Would you care to explain why you disobeyed my direct order?"

"I wanted to wear something special for you, Sir," she answered with fake innocence. "I just wanted to please you with my body." Damn.

"I'm sure you do look delectable, Kitty, but I gave you specific orders which you decided to ignore, so you must be punished. Afterwards, if your lingerie does please me, I'll reward you. Now stand up and let me look at you," I ordered as I offered her my hand. She took it and I helped her up, already used to her lack of coordination.

Once she was standing up, I walked around her, taking in every inch of my kinky nymph. Indeed, most of her skin was covered with sheer black fabric. The corset had a feminine floral embroidery, and there was a silk black bow between her artfully but poorly covered breasts. To complete the ensemble, she wore matching panties and black stockings, the latter of which were attached to the corset's garters.

She did please me, indeed. She looked hotter than she had in the pink underwear, and she had given me a reason to punish her. It was a win-win situation.

"Beautiful," I whispered, sounding reverent. "Absolutely delectable. Exquisite," I added softly, the words leaving my mouth without direct instructions from my brain, as I caressed her cheek with the back of my hand. Her natural beauty and her strong personality had disarmed me.

"Follow me," I ordered and she complied automatically. I led her to the spanking bench and told her to climb up. I helped her get onto the black contraption, which wasn't all that similar from the ones in the club.

Her ass looked maddeningly tempting exposed to my eyes and hands once she was up there, but I forced myself not to focus on it as I cuffed my Kitty to the spanking bench.

Once she was in place, I surprised her with the first spank, warning her as much as she had followed my instruction: not at all.

She gasped, shocked, and it took her an extra second to exclaim "One!" I had never expected my Subs to count every single time I punished them, only asking them to do so occasionally, but my Kitty always took the initiative. I had asked her about it after the second time I'd punished her in the club, and she had explained that's what her first Master had taught her to do. My instincts told me it made her feel grounded and more comfortable—where that conclusion had come from, I didn't know—and it didn't bother me, so I never asked her to stop.

A couple of seconds after the first spank, I delivered the following one. Slowly but surely, I increased the strength I applied, keeping the experience between merely sensual and honestly punishing. It reflected both my appreciation for her sexy outfit and my displeasure at her ignoring direct orders.

I decided to stop after fifteen spanks, believing she had learnt her lesson and wanting to move on. I didn't wish to give myself blue balls, but there were things I needed to do before fucking her tight pussy

"Good girl," I priced her first and foremost, and she beamed.

"Thank you, Master."

I undid the cuffs, helped her get back to the floor and grabbed her elbow to guide her towards the bed.

How many times had I pictured her tied up to the four-poster bed of my playroom? My dreams were about to become true.

"On your back," I ordered and she complied unhesitatingly. Her eyes looked around like mad for a few seconds, as if she didn't know what to do with them when she wasn't blindfolded, and then she closed them.

Trying to bring her comfort by familiarity, the first thing I did was grab a blindfold from the top drawer of the chest and put it on her.

Then, I collect the rest of the objects I had decided I would use. I was amused to notice that while most of my Kitty lay stiff and still as she waited for me to begin, she kept nervously curling and uncurling her toes without a pattern.

Once I had everything I wanted—including a we-vibe Anastasia hadn't seen earlier, as I kept it in the last drawer among other rarely used treats—I took off my jeans and walked back towards the bed. First, I used the leather cuffs from the bed to tie her up. The restraints seemed to relax her, or maybe it was the fact that I was finally touching her again.

Before cuffing her legs, I unfastened the garters and slowly removed her stockings and thong, making sure I didn't break the black fragile fabric. Once she was naked from the waist down—her black corset still teasing me as it covered her torso but left nothing to the imagination—I coaxed her legs apart and climbed up between them.

My dick was dying to slide into her, so I kept the foreplay to a minimum. My fingers went straight to her clit, and I was happy but unsurprised to find her dripping wet. She was ready for me, yet once I had started touching her, I couldn't stop. She was a vision with her face flushed and her mouth open in pleasure as she panted. Next thing I knew she was tensing her legs, close to orgasm, so I stopped. I could practically hear the whine that'd got stuck in my Kitty's throat, her facial expression revealing just how upset she was I had paused. It was both amusing and fitting to leave her hanging on the verge of orgasm after she had had me on edge for days, wondering if I'd ever have her like this, naked and silently begging for more in my playroom.

I gave her a few seconds to calm down and reached for the we-vibe. I slid the wider half of the u-shaped toy into her pussy, pressing its other arm against her clit. I turned it on, letting her feel the vibrations, and she gasped softly in surprise.

Aided with my hands and oral instructions, I guided her into the optimal position for that particular toy: with her knees towards her chest and her ankles crossed. It would allow me to penetrate her fully while ensuring she was comfortable.

I then used a piece of soft rope to keep her legs tied together and in place, not for the sake of the position itself but because I loved restraining her as much as she loved being immobilised during sex.

Finally, after what felt like ages for my rock-hard dick, I knelt in front of her with my knees on either side of her thighs and slid into her slowly, mindful of the we-vibe inside her.

The vibrations felt amazing against my dick, and I knew they should be stimulating my Kitty's g-spot with a vengeance. Indeed, Anastasia whimpered, and it was music to my ears.

"That's it, baby," I grunted. "Let me hear you. Do you like this? Do you like your Dom's dick deep inside your pussy? Tell me!"

"Yes, Master!" she shouted as I fucked her deeper, my hands holding her hips as I pulled her closer and closer to my groin each time I slid into her tight wet temple. She didn't hold back, whimpering and moaning freely.

I kept muttering dirty nothings as I fucked her and the vibrations stimulated our most sensitive parts. The erotic experience surpassed my expectations. It wasn't my first time using that particular toy, although I suspected it was Anastasia's, but never before had it been so intense or intimate. I made her come twice before I allowed myself to orgasm, shouting her sweet name. She had, in return, screamed my name each time she had come, unknowingly touching my heart.

Was followed was a kinky sex marathon. I removed the vibrator, untied her legs and undid her corset before cuffing her to the spreader bar and pinching her nipples with a pair it clamps. I brought the both of us to orgasm several more times before my Kitty reached exhaustion.

I took Anastasia to her bedroom and had her relax on the bed as I took care of her, massaging her spent muscles. She'd be sore but not sorry at all, indeed. I felt pretty proud of myself. Unexpectedly, she fell asleep while I massaged her, and I let her take a nap.

I spent the next couple of hours working—I may have covered the essentials that morning, but a CEO always has work to do—and waiting impatiently for Anastasia to wake up.

I received an e-mail from a very desperate Head of the Environmental Sciences Department of WSU, wondering if I could join him, the university's president, and the vice-president of economic development, on a last-minute lunch reunion on Monday. My original plan had been to spend Monday through Wednesday in Seattle and return to Vancouver on Thursday, but all I could think about was the benefits of being closer to Anastasia, so I acceded. Luckily, I didn't have any important plans in Seattle so I could work from Portland just fine. Ros would probably get pissed, but there were unquestionable benefits to being the boss.

Anastasia and I kept it easy and chaste the rest of the evening. She looked tired, so I ordered some pizza. I commented with her my change of plans, as I had been meant to fly her back home that evening, but she happily agreed to wait till Monday and remain with me an extra day. Her answer made me happier than I could have predicted.

As soon as we were done eating, Anastasia rushed upstairs to grab her phone and inform Katherine of her change of plans. Her short white dress wavered behind her as she hurried up the stairs forming an image that was somehow both sexy and endearing.

She looked like an angel when dressed in white.

Once her roommate had been dealt with—a quick affair, as Elliot seemed to have her well entertained—I remembered I had been meaning to add my number to her contact list.

"May I have your phone?" I asked, holding one palm up. Instead of complying instantly, she gave me a questioning look. Maddening woman. "I want to save my actual phone number on your phone. Then I'll call myself and save your number on my contact list," I told her begrudgingly, not used to having to explain myself to my Subs but knowing that while not in the playroom, Anastasia wasn't really my Submissive, but my strong, stubborn and independent friend.

Satisfied with my reasoning, she unlocked her smartphone and gave it to me. I looked at the inspirational phrase on her white and pink flowery background. "'She believed she could, so she did.'" I read. "Good life philosophy."

"It's one of my favourites, next to 'She turned her can't into cans and her dreams into plans.'" It sounded fitting for Anastasia. I had, after all, seen her turn from kitten to tiger plenty of times.

"Which are those dreams, Ana?" I asked softly. I liked the sound of her nickname on my lips, but nonetheless I still loved how her full name rolled on my tongue.

"Graduate from college, for one. That's a plan I'm about to fulfil."

"And once you have your diploma?" I wondered. I knew her plan was to work for a publishing house, but what was her dream?

"I want to find a book," she began softly, as if it were a deep secret she didn't want to share with the world, yet she was willing to reveal to me, "one that's not yet on the shelves, and say, 'This is it. This is the book that will change lots of lives and that my children and grandchildren will be reading at school someday.' I want to find the next Harry Potter, or Pride and Prejudice, or The Book Thief," she continued with enthusiasm.

It was a big dream, one you don't just share with anyone, and I could appreciate how monumental it was she felt comfortable to tell me about it. I'd keep it as close to my heart as she did to hers.

"I want to immortalize a book." Passion flowed through her words as she spoke, capturing all of my attention and my heart. Hearing her so excited was music to my ears.

"Then turn those dreams into plans, baby," I encountered her. "Believe you can and you will."

It had worked for me.

She gifted me a shy smile, with her head slightly bent downwards but her Adriatic Sea blue eyes still focused on mine. She looked lovely.

Unexpectedly, she raised her head and kissed my cheek. It was such a sweet and innocent gesture. She giggled charmingly and took my hands. She stood up and tried to drag me upwards, but the gesture caught me unaware and I was too slow to cooperate.

"Let's go watch a movie," she said, still pulling my hands. "I want to try out that home theatre of yours."

I got roped into watching Captain America, but what I found more entertaining than the movie was Anastasia and her quirk of talking over it. Never having enjoyed sitting down to watch TV, the brunette's inability to stay silent—or still—was quite refreshing. I gathered that most people hated watching movies with her, though. My family was famous for shushing whoever dared to talk during a film.

We went to bed early, having had a physically exhausting day. Anastasia may have had a nap, but she had also had a long week at university. I fell asleep the instant my head hit the pillow, but soon enough the nightmares started. As usual, I recalled an early childhood memory in my sleep: that night, I experienced been alone in my biological mother's dirty and cold apartment, hungry and wondering when she'd come back home, and if she'd be alone or with her abusive pimp.

My back was drenched in sweat when I woke up. My room was dark and as lonely as that apartment had been. With shaky feet, I stumbled to my bathroom to dry myself before walking to the living room, not ready to return to bed.

As usual, I searched for solace in my piano. I could play for hours on end, the music flowing from my mind, across my fingers and through the piano, its sweet tones filling the room and going full circle by soothing my disturbed head.

Halfway through the third song, I sensed eyes on me. From the corner of my eye I noticed Anastasia. I ignored her and kept playing, for I knew leaving a song unfinished would be particularly unnerving for me after having had a nightmare. Each song I bought to a closure seemed to leave further behind my disturbing past.

I had always found creating music from white and black keys to be healing, but the instant I turned to look at my angel, I realised I had found a better soothing balm. When her impressed and surprised blue eyes—always as warm and calming as the Adriatic Sea—met mine, I forgot everything about the nightmare.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"I should be the one saying that. I didn't mean to wake you," I answered softly.

"It's okay... That was beautiful. A bit too gloomy for my tastes, though." It wasn't the first time I had heard that, be it from a Sub or a closer relation, but gloomy usually fit my mood.

"Thank you. It's a transcription by Bach, but it's originally an oboe concerto by Alessandro Marcello."

"You're very talented," she said, and not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours. I smirked, thinking about how my talents had pleased her earlier. She glared at me playfully. "I mean that..."

"I know what you mean. My hands are amazing. At least that's what you said yesterday," reminded her. She had mentioned it twice while I had massaged her back during aftercare, and it hadn't sounded platonic at all. We both knew my hands didn't only know how to work on her back.

"Well, now you've also managed to impress my ears. How long have you been playing?"

"Ever since I was six."

She bent her head slightly to a side, as if contemplating my answer.

"What are you doing out of bed?" she asked after several seconds.

"Couldn't sleep," I confessed. Now that she was there, I didn't feel unnerved anymore, yet I didn't fancy returning to the solitude of my room.

"Now, we can't have that! You're supposed to be flying us to Portland tomorrow."

"Don't worry. I don't usually sleep much. I'm used to my... insomnia."

"Well, you slept like the dead last night, Mr Grey. I dear even say you snored!"

"I don't snore!" I exclaimed dramatically. "I did sleep deeper than I have in... years." I stared at her, thinking about the possibility… Twice I had slept next to her without nightmares. Twice she had been my guardian angel at night, making me forget about my darkest past. And more than twice had we ignored the 'no bedroom' rule. What was one more broken arbitrary rule among friends?

"Come with me," I invited her, standing up and offering her my right hand. She took it unhesitatingly albeit with a questioning look, and let me guide her to my bedroom. "Get in the bed," I requested. "Lie down on your side, with your back towards me."

Her eyes still revealed confusion, but nonetheless she complied to my request. Once she was in position, I climbed into bed behind her. Her warm body, clad in a soft silky nightgown, called for me to hold her. I hesitated for a few seconds before throwing caution to the wind. Hadn't I, after all, scolded Anastasia on that very same bed for being hesitant and shy? Daring, I scooted closer to her body and hugged her to my chest. I kissed her soft brunette hair goodnight and whispered, "Sweet dreams, Anastasia."

With my angel in my arms, my body had no qualms on relaxing, but before falling asleep, I dedicated one last thought to the success of the weekend. The new contract hadn't broken us, but made us.

Our time together in the privacy of my home had brought us closer together.

Through it all, we had come out as friends.

Through it all, never did I worry she'd touch me.

Never did I fear I'd lose control of my darker self.

Never did I feel like a sadist.

I was just me, finally free of my ball and chain

—finally free of my fifty shades of fucked up—

even if it was only when she was around.

Through it all, I came out trusting her more that I had ever trusted other women before, and hopefully reaffirming her trust for me in return.