Chapter XXI ← Christian Anastasia FanFiction

HEART TO HEART

CHAPTER XXI

“Do you need a drink or anything?” I ask.

“No,” she replies. Great, neither do I.

“Good. Let’s go to bed,” I say. She raises her eyebrow at me.

“You’re going to settle for plain old vanilla?” she asks amused.

I cock my head to one side saying, “Nothing plain or old about vanilla; it’s a very intriguing flavor.”

“Since when?” she probes.

“Since last Saturday. Why? Were you hoping for something more exotic?” I ask.

“Oh no. I’ve had enough exotic for one day,” she replies. I have a wicked gleam in my eyes.

“Are you sure? We cater for all tastes here – at least thirty-one flavors,” I say grinning at her licentiously.

“I’ve noticed,” she replies dryly. I shake my head to her teasing ways.

“Come on Miss Steele. You have a big day tomorrow. Sooner you’re in bed, sooner you’ll bed fucked, and sooner you can sleep,” I say to her as a matter of factly. (← I Know You Want Me by Pitbull)

“Why Mr. Grey, you are a born romantic,” she says making me stop in my tracks with her smart mouth comment. How I love to tame it baby!

“Miss Steele, you have a smart mouth. I may have to subdue it some way. Come,” I say leading her down the hallway to my bedroom, and I have no patience to turn around and close it, so I kick it closed.

“Hands in the air,” I command, all business. She holds her arms up in the air, and I remove her dress with one swift move, and say “Ta da!” playfully like a magician.

She giggles and melts my heart and applauds. I bow down for her in response. I put her dress on a chair.

“And for your next trick?” she probes me, teasing.

“Oh, my dear Miss Steele. Get into my bed,” I growl, “then I shall show you.”

“Do you think that for once I should play hard to get?” she ask coquettishly. This has possibilities, and I’m aroused and excited, but, if she was to play hard to get, or run away from me even in a game, I’d have a hard time.

“Well,” I say, “the door’s closed. Not sure how you’re going to avoid me,” I add taunting. “It’s a done deal baby.”

“But I’m a good negotiator,” she rebuttals.

“So am I,” I say staring down at her. But then I get a feeling that she doesn’t want to fuck with me. Can I handle that?

“Don’t you want to fuck?” I ask.

“No,” she breathes. Something inside me shatters with her response.

“Oh,” I say frowning.

She takes a deep breath, closes and opens her eyes momentarily and says, “I want you to make love to me.” Her response stills me, and I stare at her blankly trying to process this information. My expression darkens with what I know, what I want, and what I want is right before me.

“Ana, I...” I say, unable to complete my sentence. I run both my hands through my hair in double exasperation. This is what I know. Changing my ways is extremely hard for me, not to mention giving me distress. But, isn't fucking a form of love making anyway? At least with Anastasia it is for me.

“I thought we did?” I say questioning.

“I want to touch you,” she says, and I take an involuntary step back. No! I can’t, though God knows I want her to. But, it’s my hard limit. Being touched is unbearably painful for me, making me feel like I have the hands of the pimp, hitting, putting out his smoke on my body. I was never able to pass that, and it’s just beyond torture. I am fearful of it. But then I manage to put my passive face on recovering myself, taking control of the situation.

“Oh no Miss Steele,” I say. “You’ve had enough concessions from me this evening. And I’m saying no.”

“No?” she asks disappointed.

“No,” I reiterate firmly.

“Look, you’re tired. I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed,” I say though that’s the farthest thing I want to do right now.

“So, touching is a hard limit for you?” she asks.

“Yes. This is old news,” I say impassively.

“Please tell me why,” she inquires.

“Oh, Anastasia, please. Just drop it for now,” I say exasperated. How can I begin to tell her the depth of my depravity, how fucked up I am since my formidable years?

“It’s important to me,” she whispers. I run both my hands through my hair again; exasperation is running rampant. Okay, we’re not going to fuck tonight. I go to my dresser and pull out a t-shirt for her to put on, and throw it at her. She catches it, confused.

“Put that on, and get into bed,” I snap, completely irritated. She frowns, turns her back, removes her bra, and pulls the t-shirt on hastily. She leaves her panties on I notice.

“I need to use the bathroom,” she says asking permission in a whisper. I frown, bemused. Why is she asking for permission now?

“Now you’re asking permission?” I say.

“Uhm... no.” she responds.

“Anastasia, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange arrangement, you don’t need my permission to use it,” I say irritated. I shrug off my shirt, as she scoots into the bathroom. I take my pants and boxers off, and put on my low hanging pajama bottoms on. I put away my clothes. I finally walk to the bathroom door, and knock on it.

“Come in,” she says through a mouthful of toothpaste. I stand in the doorway amused that she’s using my toothbrush again. Her eyes catch mine in the mirror. She appraises me with her eyes, and she appears to like what she sees. I finally smirk at her and come to stand beside her. Without taking her gazes off of mine, she rinses my toothbrush, and hands it to me.  I have humor in my eyes.

"Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush,” I say gently mocking her.

“Thank you, Sir,” she responds smiling sweetly, going back to the bedroom. I quickly brush my teeth, and follow her to the bedroom.

“You know, this is not how I saw tonight panning out,” I mutter petulantly.

“Imagine if I said to you that you couldn’t touch me,” she says, and the thought of it is horrifying. I clamber onto the bed and sit cross-legged.

“Anastasia, I’ve told you. Fifty shades. I had a rough start in life... You don’t want that shit in your head.” I say. It’s too horrible to know. “Why would you?”

“Because I want to know you better,” she responds.

“You know me well enough,” I respond.

“How can you say that?” she says struggling to her knees, finally facing me. I roll my eyes at her in frustration.

“You’re rolling your eyes. Last time I did that, I ended up over your knee,” she responds to me making me even more frustrated.

“Oh, I’d like to put you there again,” I say to her. Her eyes brighten with my revelation.

“Tell me and you can,” she says surprising me.

“What?” I ask incredulous.

“You heard me,” she says flatly.

“You’re bargaining with me?” I say in astonishment. She nods.

“Negotiating.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Anastasia,” I reply.

“Okay. Tell me, and I’ll roll my eyes at you,” she says making me laugh at her tenacity. She disarms me at every turn. Her reply sobers me up.

“Always so keen and eager for information,” I say as my eyes blaze with speculation. Fine then, Miss Steele. Let’s see what we can do to oblige you. Oh yes. I leave the room while telling her, “Don’t go away.”

I go to the playroom quickly and find the new silver balls I’ve purchased for her. I quickly return to my bedroom, excited.

“When is your first interview tomorrow?” I ask softly.

“At two,” she replies. Great! We have time to play, and a slow wicked grin starts playing on my face.

“Good,” I say. I realize my face is changing into the Dominant Christian’s. You want information, I want sex. We can negotiate... this way.

“Get off the bed. Stand over here,” I point to the side of the bed. And she is like a bat out of hell, scrambling to get to the spot. Eager as ever... I stare down at her intently.

“Trust me?” I ask her softly. She nods. I hold out my hand, and show her two round silver balls linked with a thick black thread. “These are new,” I say unequivocally. She looks up at me questioning, not knowing what they are.

“I’m going to put these inside you, and then I’m going to spank you, not for punishment, but for your pleasure and mine,” I say, pausing to gauge her wide-eyed reaction. She looks surprised.

“Then we’ll fuck, and if you’re still awake, I’ll impart some information about my formative years. Agreed?” I say, asking her permission. She nods breathlessly. I smile.

“Good girl. Open your mouth,” I say. She does. (← Dynamite by Taio Cruz)

“Wider,” I say. I place the balls into her mouth. They need lubrication.

“They need lubrication; suck,” I order in a soft soothing voice. She closes her mouth with the balls in there lubricating. She squirms in her seat.

“Keep still Anastasia,” I warn her. Finally I think the balls warmed up and lubricated enough, I tell her to stop. I take the balls out of her mouth, move towards the bed, throw the duvet aside, and sit on the edge of the bed.

“Come here,” I order. She stands before me.

“Now turn around, bend down, and grasp your ankles,” I order. She blinks hesitating. My expression darkens.

“Don’t hesitate,” I admonish her softly. Then take the balls and pop them into my mouth for some more lubrication. I want to be inside her every way. She bends over, holds her ankles. Her t-shirt slides up, exposing her delectable behind. My hand finds her backside and I softly caress it. I gently move her panties to the side, and slowly run my finger up and down her sex. She’s aroused and wet already. I slide one finger inside her and circle my finger. She moans in delight.

My breathing stops and I gasp but continue to repeat the motion. It never ceases to amaze me how ready she is for me at all times. I withdraw my finger, and insert the balls one at a time. Once both of them are inside, I straighten her panties, and lean forward and softly kiss her beautiful derrière.  I order her to stand up, and she shakily get to her feet. I grasp her hips to steady her.

“You okay?” I ask in a stern voice.

“Yes,” she replies softly.

“Turn around,” I order, and she turns and faces me.

“How does that feel?” I ask.

“Strange,” is her reply.

“Strange good or strange bad?”

“Strange good,” she confesses blushing.

“Good,” I reply, both relieved and aroused.

“Anastasia, I’d like a glass of water. Go and fetch one for me please,” I ask her.

“And when you come back, I will put you across my knee. Think about that, baby.”

She leaves the room to get the water. The movement will stimulate her inside. You see, these balls are originated in China. They are tiny weighted balls. After they are inserted into the vagina, they produce an erotic sensation within the vagina and its surrounding sensitive tissues with the slightest movement of the hips or legs. In fact, geishas used them to lubricate their vagina before they performed on a client. You can get an explosive orgasm by simply walking down the hallway. They’re only marble size balls. These balls are about subtlety and spontaneity. They’re designed to make their presence known by random movement which produces the anticipated climax. It makes fucking that much better. It’s like preheating the oven. Ready to function.

She comes back with a glass of water in her hand. I carefully watch her, and her expression. As she hands me the glass, I thank her, taking a sip of the water, and place the glass on the bedside table. I can see the anticipation in her, and anticipation is the best precursor to great sex. I turn my eyes on her.

“Come. Stand beside me. Like last time.”

She sidles up to me all excited and beyond aroused.

“Ask me,” I say softly. I want her to ask to be spanked. Her utterance will fulfill a deep need in me. A need to render punishment. She frowns, unsure of what to ask.

“Ask me,” I repeat in a slightly harder voice. She looks at me questioning, still not getting my meaning.

“Anastasia,” I say, “ask me, because I won’t say it again,” I say threatening. Understanding floods her eyes as I look at her expectant. Oh, escapes her lips.

“Spank me please, Sir,” she whispers making me unravel with her words. I close my eyes momentarily to savor the pleasure. I reach up, grasp her left hand, and tug her over to my knees. She falls on to my knees, and I steady her. I can feel her heartbeat through our skin to skin connection. She’s angled over my lap as her torso is resting on the bed. I smooth her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. I then hold her hair at the nape of her neck to hold her in place while gently tugging it so her head shifts back.

“I want to see your face while I spank you Anastasia,” I murmur while softly rubbing her backside.

My hand moves down between the cheeks of her derrière, and I push against her sex knowing it will move the balls inside... this makes her moan making me even more excited.

“This is for pleasure Anastasia, mine and yours,” I whisper softly.

I lift my hand and bring it down with a resounding slap against the junction of her tight of her behind and her sex. The slap brings up a pain pleasure. Pain on the surface as the blood draws to the surface making it pink, trying to absorb the sudden assault, the balls in her vagina would move forward with the slap, stimulating her on the inside. There is a myriad of sensations that is being delivered in one slap. She screws her face to absorb all these different sensations. I caress her backside to spread the sensation, trail my palm across her skin and over her panties. I lift my hand up again and deliver another blow. She groans this time with the spreading sensation.

I have a pattern. Left to right, and then down. Making the balls move forward. Between each slap, I massage her, kneading, inside and out. Stimulating her, making her want more, desire more. When I’m done with slapping her, she would want nothing but for me to fuck her senseless. Even if she groans, she’s pleasured. Left, right, and down. When I hit her on the downside, she groans and moans because the balls are moving inside and pleasuring her. I don’t have to hit her hard for this to stimulate her. The last down hit makes her wild.

“Good girl Anastasia,” I groan as my breathing gets ragged with arousal. I deliver two more spanks to her behind, then pull at the small threads attached to the balls and jerk them out suddenly. This would bring out a near climax, increasing her desire to be fucked. I lie beside her on the bed, producing the foil condom packet and rip it. Take the condom out, pinch the top and roll it onto my length. I seize her hands as I pull them over her head, and ease into her, sliding slowly and filling her. She groans loudly as her arousal is high.

“Oh, baby,” I whisper as I move back and forward in a slow sensual tempo. I want to savor her, feel her, and lose myself in her. As her arousal is near, she clenches around me, and we both ignite into a delicious, violent orgasm, leaving both of us gasping. What she does to me is unbelievable. I am in a different dimension, beyond fulfilled.

“Ana!” I gasp; her name is a litany upon my lips. As I utter her name, I’m silent but still panting with the jolts of pleasure on top of her while my hands still entwined in her above her head. Something tugs my heart strings as if an unknown sensation passes through. I lean back finally and stare at her in awe. (← Accidentally In Love by Counting Crows)

“I enjoyed that,” I whisper, and kiss her. I finally rise, and cover her with duvet, and go to the bathroom. I toss the condom into trash and clean myself up. I take a bottle of lotion with Aloe Vera and come back into the bedroom. I sit on the bed and order her to roll over. She does. Her behind is pink as could be.

“Your ass is a glorious color,” I say approving, and massage it with the lotion.

“Spill the beans Grey,” she says yawning.

“Miss Steele, you know how to ruin a moment,” I chide her.

“We had a deal,” she rebuttals.

“How do you feel?” I ask her trying to change the subject.

“Shortchanged.” There is no escaping her inquisition. I finally sigh, slide beside her, and pull this beautiful woman with a very smart mouth into my arms. We are spooning again, and I love being like this with her. I kiss her softly by her ear.

“The woman who brought me into this world was a crack whore, Anastasia. Now, go to sleep,” I say not wanting to divulge any more.

“Was?” she asks again.

“She’s dead,” I reply.

“How long?” she asks again. I sigh.

“She died when I was four. I don’t really remember her. Carrick has given me some details. I only remember certain things. Please go to sleep now.”

“Goodnight Christian,” she finally acquiesces.

“Goodnight Ana,” I say, and we both fall into deep sleep. (← Truly, Deeply, Madly by Savage Garden)