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Suddenly he drops to his knees in front of me, head bowed, long-fingered hands spread out on his thighs. He takes a deep breath and doesn’t move.
What? “Christian, what are you doing?”
He continues to stare down, not looking at me.
“Christian! What are you doing?” My voice is high-pitched. He doesn’t move. “Christian, look at me!” I command in panic.
His head sweeps up without hesitation, and he regards me passively with his cool gray gaze—he’s almost serene . . . expectant.
Holy Fuck . . . Christian. The submissive.
Somewhere inside my inner goddess is having a panic attack. Of all the curve balls Fifty has thrown, and there have been some doozies, this is the curvy-est to date.
'Christian, stop this,’ I plead. He doesn't react. 'I can't cope with this. Please Christian, come back to me.’ I'm not even sure he's heard me. He's perfectly still, his hands up turned on his knees, his blue shirt reflecting pale in the moonlight.
I kneel in front of him, trying to recreate equilibrium between us. He won't even raise his head. 'Look at me,’ I whisper. 'Will you at least look at me?’
He shakes his head ever so slightly still refusing to meet my eyes.
'Fuck, what am I meant to do now?’ I wonder. My head is spinning. He looks younger like this and more vulnerable. My heart breaks for him. ‘Is this how she made him stay?’ I think. Elena. The woman who helped create my damaged and lost Fifty. Did she teach him to kneel like this? So poised, so perfectly still. Every part of his body is arranged in an attitude of complete submission. His buttocks rest on his heels, knees slightly parted with the back of his hands placed lightly on his thighs. His shoulders are gently rounded as he leans forward, his head tilts towards the floor.
I realise with a shock that Christian as a submissive captures a grace that I never achieved. For six years of his life, those formative teenage years, Christian was shaped by the desires of his Domme, Mrs. Robinson, Elena. And now he is offering that to me. Is he expecting me to be like her? Is that what he wants?
'No!’ I think, almost reeling. 'No, no no! I'm nothing like her. I can't be. She abused him. I love him. I would never hurt him. Never.’
I have to find a way to get him off the floor. I reach out my hand and gently stroke the side of his face. Briefly he nestles into it.
'Christian,’ I say softly one last time. 'I don't need you to do this. Please get up.’
Nothing. He remains still, cheek still held in my hand. Gently, I pull my hand away.
'Christian,’ I say again more firmly this time. I nearly giggle. I sound like a cross between my mother and my fourth grade teacher Miss Stacey. I swallow it in time and focus on my poor Fifty in front of me. 'Christian, that's enough. Get up off the floor.’ I sound serious and confident and Christian's reaction is instantaneous. He tucks his toes under his feet, rocks backwards and in one, graceful movement rises from the floor. I'm left on my knees, gazing up at him. The wine I had for dinner has not quite faded from my system and I get up much less gracefully. Finally we are both standing together. Christian still won't look up to meet my eyes however.
'Look at me,’ I order. He does. He's a mess I can see. His gray eyes are anguished. What is it that he expects me to do? I think I know but I'm not sure I can. I might be able to play at being a submissive for him but there's no fucking way I can be a sadist.
'Have you eaten?’ I ask. He shakes his head. Maybe he just needs a meal, I think. For the first time I consider how the events of the day must have taken a toll on him. “Go into the kitchen. Sit down and I'll get you something to eat.” For the first time he speaks.
'No, I can…” he begins but I cut him off.
“For fuck’s sake Christian, can you do one thing without arguing?” I exclaim. I realise I'm accusing him of exactly what he said to me today but I'm in no mood to appreciate the irony. “If you want me to… to… If you expect me to…” I flounder. I can't bring myself to actually say the words 'dominate you’. “If this is what you want,” I continue “then… just do what you're told!”
And there it is. I've said it and I can't quite believe it. I almost cover my mouth as if that would summon the words back. For a moment I fully expect this demand to snap him out of it. I'm sure I see, for just a split second, a hint of his domineering nature flash like lightning in his cloud grey eyes. His fingers clench slightly and I can imagine them grabbing me roughly by my hair and forcing me to my knees in front of him. And then it's gone. He drops his head once more, eyes averted.
“Yes An… Ma’am,” he says quietly and obediently walks passed me and into the kitchen.
I watch him go and feel utterly bereft. In some way I feel as though I've lost him. Who is Christian Grey if he's handed over his control? Who is this person he's become? Tears prickle at my eyes and start to trail down my cheeks. I brush them away with the back of my hand. No! I can't believe my Christian is gone forever. He'll move past this. I just have to wait this, whatever this is, out.
I follow him into the kitchen. He's waiting for me, sitting at the breakfast bar, hands folded in front of him. I open the fridge and scan it for something to eat. Nothing. I open the freezer and spy two packets of frozen Mac and cheese. Fine, it'll do. I throw both of them into the microwave.
As the microwave heats up our dinner I turn back to the man who seems more like a stranger to me now. Tentatively I reach across the table and take his hand. He doesn't respond but he doesn't pull away either.
“I love you,” I tell him. “I'm not going to leave you. I just wanted some to think. Can't you understand that? Today was a lot to process. I feel like I saw a side of you… It just looked so… inevitable between the two of you.” I stop to think of the ease with which he had subdued an armed woman with simply a gesture and a word. “You looked like you were in your natural habitat when you were with her. And I don't think you've ever been like that with me.” Finally his fingers grasp around mine and he looks as though he's about to interrupt me. I speak quickly, trying to make him understand my thoughts. “I know you love me,” I say, “ but our relationship, it isn't natural to you. It's not where you live. It can't.. I can't give you what you need.” Christian shakes his head vehemently.
'You’re wrong,” he says hoarsely. “I’ll prove it to you if you just give me a chance.”
“By doing what?” I ask demand. “By letting me beat you? Degrade you? Do you want me to be Elena? I don't want that Christian. I don't!”
“Please,” he whispers. “Let me explain.”
I sit back slightly. This new, demure Christian is so totally unexpected and part of me is fascinated. I nod to indicate I’m listening.
“When you left me I knew that I couldn't continue with what I was doing.”
“Being a dom?” I asked.
“No,” he shakes his head. “I'm not a dom. Not truly. I'm a… a sadist. I punish women who look like my mother.” I feel sick and I have to fight the impulse to pull my hand away. He continues, “I tried to hide it, even from myself. But when you left me I couldn't lie to myself any more. And once I confronted what I really was I couldn't stand it. I couldn't even imagine continuing. I promise you I will never go back to that.”
I release a shaky breath. What Christian is saying is huge and massively fucked up but also not entirely surprising. I want to cry. A large part of me wants to run. Instead I do neither and sit in the kitchen holding my crazy boyfriend's hand.
“And then today,” he continues, “with Leila.” He shakes his head and wipes his eyes with his hand like a five year old trying to force the tears away. “I thought if I didn't try to dominate you I would stop hurting you. But she could have killed you. And look at what I did to her. I destroyed her and if it hadn't been for the risk she could have posed to you I probably would never have found out. Never would have cared.”
“Christian,” I say, “You feel guilty and I understand, but you are not responsible for her choices. And she was sick. It's not your fault.”
He shrugs. “I wish I could believe that but I don't,” he says simply. “If you had been hurt I would have been to blame. When you came in tonight I could see how angry you were with me. I thought I was going to lose you again and this time it would be forever.” He pauses and I wonder if he's going to continue.
“And then?” I prompt.
“I panicked” he whispers “I couldn't think. I just wanted to prove to you that I've changed.” He reaches out with his other hand to grasp my free hand. “I told you once that Elena taught me to channel my anger and energy into something positive. The only time in my life that I haven't been hurting everyone around me was when I was her submissive. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore.”
“She abused you!” I spat at him. Christian shrugged, his face impassive. “She encouraged me to be a Dom. She knew she couldn't control me as a submissive.”
“But, what?” I asked, feeling confused. “You think I can?”
“I know you can,” he replies, “because I love you.”
And there it is. That simple declaration that ties us together more firmly than a thousand ropes. Because I love him too. And that means I'll do whatever it takes to help him.
From behind us the microwave beeps telling us our dinner has finished heating. I pull the boxes out and slid one over to Christian. I pull the plastic liner off mine and dig in. I’m surprised to find how ravenous I am. I watch Christian. He’s pulled the plastic of his food as well but it's only after I start eating that he lifts his fork to start eating himself. Another one of Elena's rules I imagine.
“And you want me to do… what? Tie you down? Cane you? Tell you to sleep in the sub room?” I feel outraged and also scared. After everything we've been through, how can he be asking this of me? He shrugs again.
“Any of them. All of them.”
I suddenly remember the first time we talked about dominance and submission.
“And what do I get out of it?” I demand. Christian looks at me and finally I see my Fifty looking back out of his gray eyes. He smiles.
“Anything you want,” he promises.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
We finish our impromptu dinner in silence. I'm shocked and my head is spinning. Where is my Fifty? I want to scream. Have I done this to him? At the end I collect the empty boxes of Mac and cheese and put them in the bin. I throw the forks into the sink. Mrs Jones can deal with them tomorrow.When I turn, Christian is gazing at me with his intense, gray eyes. He must know what a daze I am in and it seems to amuse him. He smiles wickedly at me and I feel a rush of relief to see the lost expression on his face disappear. 'What do you say Ana?” he asks seriously. “Haven't you ever wondered what I get out of it? Don't you think you might enjoy it even a little?”I feel cold at his words “I'm not a sadist,” I snap. He flinches at the disgust in my voice. “I don't know why you or Elena or anyone enjoys this,” I continue, “just when I think I have you figured out everything changes again. I don't know what you want from me. What you expect me to do.”“Would you try?” he asks. “For me?”I groan. Even when he's submissive I still feel like I'm being controlled. “You already know the answer to that,” I tell him. “I will but I can't promise you it will last forever. If I can't deal with it, if it's too much then we're going to have to rethink things. Again.”He nods. “I guess I'll have to accept that,” he concedes.“Yes, I guess you will,” I snap back. He pauses and looks as though he's going to reprimand me for being sassy. I raise one eyebrow and wait. Let's see what you really want, Mr Grey. He drops his eyes and folds his hands in front of him on the countertop. He looks so damn graceful and self contained even after the harrowing day we've had that I want to slap him. Hmm, maybe I can now.“Thank you Ma’am,” he says softly. Even through my uncertainty I smile. Who knows? I might be able to get used to this after all.The adrenaline from the day has definitely worn off and I feel exhausted. I'll have a lot to think about tomorrow but right now I need sleep. 'Come on,” I say. “I'm beyond tired. Maybe all this will make more sense in the morning.” I stand and Christian stands as well. “Where would you like to me to sleep?”I stare at him. Holy shit. It starts to sink in that I can give Christian Mr-Billionaire-CEO-could-be-a-fashion-model Grey orders. And he's agreed to obey them. Although I honestly don't know how long it will last. I contemplate telling him to sleep on the floor next to my bed to pay him back for all the shit he's put me through today, even though now I'm calmer and more sober I know it wasn't his fault. The only thing stopping me is that he might actually do it and the thought repulses me.“I want you to sleep where I've always wanted you to sleep,” I respond. “Next to me, in our bed.”“Yes ma’am.”It takes me awhile to fall asleep despite how tired I am. Christian’s breathing is slow and even but I'm not sure if he's drifted off or not. I don't know how to deal with this change in our relationship. I don't know if I can deliberately cause him pain like that, even if he wants me to. Then I think back to how easily he acquiesced to sleep next to me tonight. How calm he seemed on his knees. And can I really refuse the chance to learn more about the ever mysterious Christian Grey?I must have fallen asleep thinking about these things because when I open my eyes again the room is filled with the somber light of a cloudy dawn. Next to me Christian turns slightly in his sleep. Carefully, so I don't wake him, I slide out of the bed covers. I take my phone from the side table and pad barefoot down the hall.When I come to that door I stop. My breath catches in my throat as I push the door handle down. To my surprise the door swings open. Christian generally keeps it locked. Inside everything is as I remember it. The red room. I imagine having Christian in here with he as my submissive and I as his Domme. It’s too wierd. Christian naked on the floor, or tied between two pillars while I… while I… what exactly? The truth is he's only ever used a handful of these items with me. Half of the things in here I have no idea how to use or how they would feel. I'm not too comfortable with the idea of using something when I don't know what the effect will be.I notice something that looks like a dresser. I open a drawer and pick up a heavy cone shaped object. It's almost like a small, metal Christmas tree with the widest part followed immediately by a much thinner piece of metal. I'm not entirely sure what it is but I can guess. Another draw holds a collection of everyday clothes pins. I shudder imagining all the places clothespins could be attached. I wonder if Christian is expecting me to use these things on him. I sit on one of the leather covered sofa and hold up my phone. Mmm. What to do. Start from the beginning I guess. I type in 'what is a Domme?’ and start reading.****It's about an hour later when I sense someone one watching me. I look up and see Christian standing in the doorway. 'Anastasia, what are you doing in here?’ he asks. I don't answer him as I think it's pretty clear what I'm doing.‘What’s subspace?’ I ask instead.'Umm… what?’ he looks genuinely confused. But he must have heard the term before. It's all over the internet once you're looking in the right places.'Subspace,’ I repeat. 'Well, ok, I know the definition. I mean, what's it like? Have you experienced it?’He comes in and leans against the hobby horse next to me. “You've been doing research then?”I shrug. “Just finished an English degree. I've got to use those skills somehow. So, have you?”To my surprise he reaches over and takes my hand but it's not in his normal, possessive way. This time it’s as though he needs reassurance.'Not often,’ he admits. 'When I was Elena's submissive it was difficult for me to surrender control entirely. You need that to get into subspace. You have to completely trust the person you're with in order to let go.’ 'And you didn't trust her?’ I ask. I feel like what's he's said reveals something about their relationship that he's never really come to terms with.'No!’ he says sharply. 'That’s not what I meant. Just… look at my history up until that point Ana. Of course I couldn't completely trust anyone. That wasn't her fault.’I don't agree but I'm not going to press the point. “But you have a few times?’ I continue. He shifts uncomfortably. Holy cow, is he embarrassed? This man, this beautiful, broken man - who has a red room of pain which is regularly cleaned by his housekeeper - can't talk about his life as a submissive?'Seriously Christian?’ I say. “You presented me with pages of every desire you've ever had as a Dom but you can't talk to me about subspace? How can I go ahead with this if you won't tell me what you want as a sub?”“Draw up your own contract…” he mutters but I cut him off.“No!’ I say loudly. “No contracts. At least… not yet. Can't we try communication to begin with? You know, for novelty.” I think I see him smile. 'Have you…’ he begins softly but pauses. I've lost the thread of the conversation.'Have I what?’'Have you ever gone into subspace?’ he asks.Oh shit. I should have seen where this would end up. Should I just lie and spare his feelings? No, we'd be going backwards. There's not only too much kinky-fuckery in our past but far too much lying-avoidance-cluster-fuckery. “Once, maybe. I don't know,” I say and wait. Will he explode? Is this where angry dominant Christian makes his return? “I'm sorry,” he says softly. Well fuck. I'm not even sure how to respond.“It's okay,” I say, even though it's not. Fuck. So much for not lying but Christian's on to me.“It's not okay! Don't say it's okay.” He looks absolutely miserable but also angry. With me? Himself? I'm not sure.“Alright,” I say. “I won't say it's okay. I'll say I forgive you then. How's that?”“You shouldn't,” he mutters. To my horror he draws the back of his free hand across his eyes. Is Christian crying? “I'm a fucking disaster. I wreck every person who crosses my path. I don't deserve to be forgiven by anyone. Least of all you.”“Oh stop it Christian,” I say, irrationally irritated all of a sudden. “Do you think your family feels you've wrecked them? They love you. And I love you too. Okay? So just deal with it.” He nods. I don't think he believes me. Infact, I'm sure he doesn't but he's not arguing about it.“So what else did your research teach you about being a dominant?” he asks, changing the subject. I flick through a few open tabs on my phone. All this new information has put my head in a spin.“There's a lot out there. Whole communities writing about BDSM. Blogs, forums, dating sites. It's a bit much to take in.”“I can teach you,” he says. Despite his outburst he’s laughing at me behind his gray eyes, I can tell. “It's my area of expertise after all.”I blush. I feel like an idiot. I've spent four years studying literature to make myself an expert. Christian has spent twelve years evenly split between being a submissive and a Dom and it didn't even occur to me to ask him. He's practically a PhD in perversion.“What do you want to know?” he asks. I look around the room. It doesn't seem crowded but it's certainly full of stuff. Hooks, bars, ropes, crops… and that's what I can see. Who knows what else is hidden away out of sight.“Have you used everything in this room?” I ask.“Yes. Of course.”“And how many of them have been used on you? I mean… not these specifically…” I start to feel embarrassed. “A lot of them,” he replies with a wicked smile. “The crops and bondage gear in particular.”“And you enjoyed that?” I asked trying to keep the incredulity out of my voice.“Yes, for the most part. I was seventeen with a very willing, much more experienced, older woman. Of course I was going to enjoy it.”“You were fifteen and with an abuser,” I think to myself. I don't say it out loud but once more Christian shows his telepathic ability.“I know how you feel about Elena,” he says, sounding almost angry, “but you don't understand…”“I think I do understand,” I reply tersely. “I wonder if you do though.”He gets up angrily and moves away from me. “I know what you think Christian,” I say. “But I'm never going to agree with you.”“I needed her.” He's furious but I know he's trying to explain something important to me. “I would have ended up dead or in jail…”“And she helped you,” I conclude. “By beating you and fucking you and there was no other way she could have saved you despite all the other fucking hardships it's created in your life.”“Please,” I know he's desperate for me to understand but I don't, and I doubt I ever will. “Please don't ask me to explain any more. I can't explain it to you. It is what it is. It’s my past. I can't change it.”“Alright,” I agree. “But Christian, if I am truly your Domme I want you to understand something.”“Yes ma'am?” he attempts a meek tone but he still sounds angry and frustrated. I'm not going to be deterred however. This is too important.“You are not to see her in a social context without me being present. Do you understand?”“But Ana,” he protests, “we share a business…”“I know,” I admit. “And as much as I would like to order you to abandon it I know I can't. But if she contacts you, if she calls or emails you about anything other than work then you will inform me. And if you must meet her socially I will be by your side. This isn't negotiable,” I add as it looks as though he might argue. “If you truly want this then I need you to obey me. I mean it.”“Yes ma'am,” he whispers. He manages to sound compliant this time. “I understand.”“What else?” I ask. “What else have you tried? The butt plugs?” I can't imagine how that would feel. “Yes ma'am.”“And you want me to use them on you?” I demand. “If you wish, yes.”Okay at least we're getting somewhere. I look around. “You said the crops…”“The paddles, the floggers,” he adds. “Anything in that vein. That was Elena's specialty.” I think about what else is I've seen in here. “The clothespins?”“No.”“Hard limit? Soft limit?” I ask.“Neither,” he says. “It's completely up to you.”I shake my head. “I don't know what half this stuff is,” I say feeling frustrated. “I don't know how to use it and I can't imagine what it would feel like. I don't want to hurt you.”Christian looks as though he finds this particularly amusing.“That's kind of the point Ana.”“Not for me,” I say angrily, “I'm not a sadist.” He flinches and I instantly regret my tone. I keep throwing it in his face and it isn't fair. I’m blaming him for something he can't help and is trying his best to control. I feel terrible but before I can apologise he takes my hand again.“You don't have to do anything you don't want to do,” he tells me. “I would like you to experience this and I think, I hope, you’ll enjoy it. But if you don't…” he shrugs, “then I’ll accept it.”“Really?” I ask. “Because this is all so strange to me. I can't imagine you being… a submissive.”“I won't be a submissive,” he corrects me, “I'll be your submissive. I will follow your orders and accept your punishments when you decide I've earnt them. But this is only for you. I have no intention of changing for the outside world.”And for a moment I have to admit those words create a strange sensation in my belly. I nod.“We need some rules,” I say.“Alright.”“And my first one is this. I'm not going to do anything to you that I haven't experienced myself.”“Ana,” he says as though this is most unreasonable thing he's ever heard, “we've hardly used anything…” I hold up my hand to tell him to stop. To my complete surprise he does although he continues to glare at me.“So before I try anything new you will use it with me first.” It's difficult to shock Christian but I think I've managed to do it. “You want me to..?” His voice trails off. “Yes,” I confirm. “When ever we try something new I want you to demonstrate how it's done first. On me. I need to know how it feels Christian. Otherwise I'm never going to be comfortable using it on you.”“But Ana,” he says softly, “I am a sadist. It's not going to be like a cooking demonstration. Probably I'm going to enjoy it and I… Will that be too much for you, knowing what you know?” I shrug. “If I feel like it goes too far I'll use the safe word. And you will respect it,” I add in a very clear you-better-not-fuck-with-me-Mr-Grey voice. 'Yes ma’am.”“And I'll punish you for it afterwards anyway,” I add casually. He swallows, a little nervously I think. “Yes ma'am.”“And not everything is going to require two people,” I say grinning wickedly. Even my inner goddess is a bit stunned at this point. “The butt plugs for instance. I'm sure I could use them myself while you watched.”This time Christian gulps.“You want me to watch you use..?” he asks as though he can't quite believe his ears. Honestly, I don't believe I've said it myself. It's like part of me knows exactly what to say.“Yes, you could offer advice.” I continue with a wicked grin, “make sure I'm using them the right way.”I notice his interest start to peak. Other things begin to peak too. Christian’s expression might be nervous but other, more southerly parts of his body, seem as confident as ever. I grin broadly. “Are you laughing at me Miss Steele?” he asks. “It's possible Mr Grey,” I say as I reach out and boldly take his cock in my hand. “But it is your area of expertise, isn't it?”I start running my hand along the length of his shaft and he groans appreciatively.“Would you like to see that?” I whisper to him. “Would you like to watch me, knowing that you'd be next?”Christian gasps and pushes his hips forward.“Ana,” he pants, “ please. I'm going to cum.”Instantly I let go and nearly giggle at the expression of frustration and disappointment on his face. “Please,” he begs in a hoarse voice.“Oh no,” I say, “you're going to have to earn it first.”“Yes mistress,” he whispers.