BOOK II - CHAPTER XIV - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

I SUBMIT TO YOU

CHAPTER XIV

My gaze is fixed, my eyes unblinking; focused, unwavering. My glare is charged with command and Leila’s eyes are locked with mine. She grips the gun tighter in her hand. It’s now or never. My gaze turns completely cold, and absolutely dominating. Leila briefly looks like she’s been caught doing something she’s not supposed to – like a child who's hand is caught in the cookie jar. My gaze is the glare of a Dominant seeking absolute obedience. She knows this stare. This is my stare demanding “as if” from her. Leila’s previous Dom trained her as a slave. Demanding “as if” from a slave adds to slave’s feeling of helplessness in controlling his or her own behavior. She is aware that “as if” position is required of her with my gaze which is something she has seen many times in the past and she has absolutely no power to alter the behavior I require of her at this instant.

I take a step into the apartment. I’m charged, and the dominant side of me is like an extension of my body, a second nature.  My gaze bores into Leila like the time she touched me and required punishment – she knows the look. Her responding gaze is defiant; she is trying to resist against my will to dominate, and trying to hold onto her will to carry out what she is intending to do. This will not happen!

She blinks a few times to break the surging power of my gaze, of my will over her – submissiveness is ingrained in her all through her previous trainings; and the charge between us grows, gets stronger like the time she had first became my submissive.  I keep my steady dominance over the entire room, it’s palpable, touchable, strong, and charged with surging power. Power to dominate, power to conquer.  My gaze pushes Leila down to her submissive mode, seeking that switch to turn it back on, make her submit to me like she had for many months: first she remains motionless, and I finally find that switch in the eyes of Leila’s mind. The initial connection that made her submit to me, to my will, to my desires, and to my mastery over her. Her head dips slightly, and she gazes up obediently through her long lashes and tired, agonized brown eyes.

I can feel Taylor getting jumpy behind me when Leila is like this with a gun still pointing towards Anastasia and while I make my way in trying to use my body as a shield to protect Anastasia; he’s extremely nervous. However I can’t let Taylor jump the gun, and have him spill blood here. I want to help Leila. I hold my hand up to halt Taylor so he  suspends his every instinct of shooting Leila to take control of the situation. I know that Taylor is trying hard to rein in his military training instincts. I can take control of her without moving a muscle. Though I don’t dare to move my gaze away from Leila, or even blink. I see a woman who is a fraction of what she was. Disheveled, dirty, lost, half out of her mind. This was not the Leila I remember who walked through my door. She was lively, vibrant, active, mischievous, and all of a sudden I feel pity for her. I care for her, and seeing her in this state makes me feel guilty. But I can’t let those emotions surface now. My primary goal is to subdue her. My worry that she might hurt Anastasia resurfaces. I can’t allow that to happen. I’d rather die than her. The silence in the room is dominated by my exuding will to master Leila. Everything and everyone else is disconnected from my thoughts. If I waver, Anastasia will get hurt. I can’t let that happen. Silence is masterful. Silence is loud. Silence is dark. (←The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel)

I remain purposeful, and my eyes bore and drill into her forcing her to submit, forcing her to give up all power, give up all thought and all ability of decision making. I must be the one who rules. I force her to open her mind up to me, to look at me, her Dominant; her Master. My stance changes suddenly as her barriers she carefully erected start crumbling one by one. I feel stronger, in control, in charge of her. She is connected with me, and only to me. She sees no one, hears no one, and recognizes no one, but me. I’m her Master, I’m her god. Leila’s lips part, her breathing increases as her submissive, expectant self comes forth responding to my call taking over her existence, and her face flushes pink, expectant. Leila is now completely under my command. (←Take Over Control by Afrojack)

She is in her “as if” mode. As the intensity of my gaze focuses on her, taking charge of her, conquering her body and mind, I mouth her, “kneel”. It is a voice command which a slave must immediately obey upon hearing, bringing the slave/sub on her knees. She was first trained in Gorean submission. The voice command in Gorean for that is nadu. Nadu is the first slave position taught to a new slave. A kneeling slave or submissive is directed to straighten her back while sitting on her heels and lifting her head while her gaze is downcast. She is to place her hands palms down on her thighs. But I’ve never used the Gorean commands on her. Nadu means kneel, and I’ve only used it on her in the standard form. Kneel voice command is still the first and most used of all slave and submissive positions as it is in Gorean. Leila immediately drops to the floor on her knees, her head bowed, and finally the ominous gun she’s been holding falls off her hands and skitters upon the floor.

My first goal is to collect the weapon so I remove the danger from the room. I lean down and pick the hand gun up, and look at it in disgust and finally deposit it safely into my pocket. My gaze goes over Leila again to make sure she is obediently kneeling by the kitchen island. Now that the primary danger removed from the room, I need to get Leila proper help, and I can’t bear Anastasia watching me.

“Anastasia, go with Taylor,” I order her. Taylor finally walks into the apartment, and goes by Anastasia asking her to come with him with a pleading look.

“Ethan?” Anastasia ask in a small voice.

“Downstairs,” I state, my gaze still on Leila. Anastasia doesn’t move from her spot. She’s motionless. I look at her in the same commanding way, but she can’t obey jack shit! Once, for God’s sake Anastasia! Do as you’re told! For once!

“Anastasia...” I say in a warning clipped tone. She just blinks at me, unable to comprehend. I find myself automatically moving beside Leila. I hover over her protectively as if Taylor is going to shoot her any minute, or to protect Anastasia as if Leila is going to produce another weapon. I’m the divider between the two poles in the room. Anastasia’s gaze is fixed on the sight before her, bewildered, shocked,scared, and utterly, and completely sad. (←Misery by Maroon 5)

I can’t take her gaze anymore, and I have to get Leila some help. Please, Ana! What do I have to do to get you out of here?

“For the love of God, and everything holy Anastasia, will you do as you’re told for once in your life and go!” I hiss at her in a cold, icy tone with my eyes locked on her with of course no effect! I’m angry that she’s still here, that she’s looking at me with those disappointed eyes. She needs to go! I need to take care of Leila, and fix her, and remove the danger she might create to Anastasia’s detriment once and for all! Can’t she understand that? But, this is Anastasia we’re talking about. Of course she has a mind of her own.

“Taylor! Take Miss Steele downstairs. Now!” Taylor nods uncomfortably, but determined.

“Why?” whispers Anastasia.

“Go. Back to the apartment,” I stare at Anastasia with frosty eyes unblinking. Will you fucking do what I ask you to do without questioning?  “I need to be alone with Leila.” I say. I need to speak with her, and get her help.

Anastasia’s gaze goes down to Leila.

“Miss Steele...  Ana,” Taylor asks her imploring Anastasia, holding his hand out to her to go out of the apartment. Anastasia is unable to move. Her mouth is open, her eyes are wide, completely shocked, and I can’t bear the look on her face. I have to deal with it later, but now, I have to take care of a problem I have created with Leila. I need to get her the help she needs. I’m not completely made of ice! I need to fix the damage I’ve caused with her. That’s the least I can do. But Anastasia doesn’t get it.

“Taylor!” I bellow once, and finally Taylor understands, and leaning down he scoops Anastasia into his arms, and removes her from the apartment.

I stroke Leila’s head gently and affectionately and murmur, “Don’t worry Leila... I’ll help, I’ll have you taken care of.”

Once Taylor’s footsteps retreats, and distances, I lean down and scoop Leila off the floor, and carry her to Anastasia’s bathroom. I stand Leila on her feet by the tub, and close the door so she doesn’t make any attempt to run away. But she is contrite and she won’t run. She gazes at me lovingly. I feel responsible for her current state even though it is triggered by tragic events. She sought me, and in a fucked up way I understand all too well, she tried to exact some revenge upon me and from Anastasia. So I know that deep down, she feels I wronged her. Considering how fucked up I am, it wouldn’t be the first time I wronged someone.

I turn the water on, and start filling up the tub with hot water. The strands of Leila’s hair is stuck to each other and to her scalp with oil, dirt and grime limp and lifeless as if she hasn’t taken a bath or a shower in weeks. Dirt is streaked on her face mixed with tears, dried up. Her nail beds are marked with crescent shaped dried dirt. She also smells, sweat, blood, and unwashed grime. She was never, ever like this. She was always clean, always exuded a pleasant smell, always well taken care of. What happened to you Leila? I put some bath soap into the hot water and let it dissolve and foam. Once the tub is filled with sudsy hot water, I take the now very dirty designer trench coat off Leila silently. Once I remove it, I can see that she’s lost a lot of weight. My heart constricts with sadness. I peel off the dirty clothes off Leila one layer at a time. She’s standing before me naked. The amount of weight she lost is starkly displayed on her body. You can count her ribs, and once her C cup breasts are now limply hanging loose skin on her. I lift her off the floor and she’s so light. I put her in the water, and she sinks in without saying a word.

“Leila, I will be right back. You sight tight, okay?” I ask gently. She nods. I step into the kitchen area and dial Dr. Flynn’s number.

“Christian?” He answers questioning.

“John, I found Leila,” I reply.

“Oh what a relief. Where are you?”

“I’m cleaning her up right now, but we are at Anastasia’s apartment. She broke into her apartment, and was holding a gun at Anastasia here!”

“Good God!”

“Yeah! Tell me about it. You already have a place standby for her. I need you to come and collect her from here, and take her to the facility.”

“Yes, of course. Give me the address, and let me get a mental health nurse with me, and I shall be there shortly,” he says.

I give John Anastasia’s address and he promises to be here in twenty minutes. I go back to the bathroom, and kneel by the bathtub start washing the dirt and grime off Leila. I find a washcloth in one of the cabinets. I soap and wash her face and clean all the dirt and grime. The bandage in her arms are half hanging and completely dirty. I gently pull them off. Leila looks up to me with some unnamed emotion, silent. I take water and pour over her hair, and put some shampoo in my palms, and wash her hair scrubbing it gently. Her hair is so dirty it doesn’t even start lathering until I wash her hair a third time. Once I wash the last bit of shampoo off her hair, scrub her body, and clean her. I let the dirty bath water run out. I finally turn the shower on, and let her rinse. Once washing her is completed, I take a towel and wrap her hair, and taking another towel, I wrap her now very skinny body. I take Leila into my arms, and run into Taylor in the living room whose stance is impassive, his gaze is anything but.

“Anastasia?” I ask, and he shakes his head. I take Leila into Anastasia’s bedroom, and deposit her on Ana’s full bed. I check the dressers and find some underwear, jeans and a shirt. After drying Leila, I put Anastasia’s clothes on her which hang loose on Leila.

My Blackberry buzzes in my pocket.

“Grey,” I say curtly.

“Christian, we are downstairs. Black cruiser. Do you want us come up?”

“Not necessary John. I’ll bring her down.”

“Leila,” I say softly to her. “Dr. Flynn is here. We need to get you some help. Okay?”

“I’m scared Master,” she whispers.

“Don’t be. You’ll be well taken care of. I’ll make sure of that.”

I find a blanket in Anastasia’s closet, and I wrap Leila in it.

“I’m going to take you downstairs now.” She nods.

“Taylor, lock up here, and follow Dr. Flynn’s cruiser. You’ll need to take me back to Escala,” I order.

“Yes, sir,” he says.

Taylor opens the front door holding it back for me and Leila to pass through. Once we exit, he closes and locks the door. Even though I kicked it in, it wasn’t locked and didn’t break the top lock. Taylor will have to have the bottom one replaced tomorrow.

I make my way downstairs to find John Flynn in his jeans and t-shirt with a no nonsense nurse in light blue scrubs. The nurse opens the left passenger door, and I enter with Leila in my arms. Dr. Flynn drives off towards the mental health facility he has arranged for Leila in Fremont. We are there in less than twenty minutes. John drives from a back entrance after punching in a code with the tall main wrought iron gates, and Taylor follows us from behind.

When we reach the facility, two more orderlies are waiting dressed in scrubs. Leila is still in my arms.

“Leila, Dr. Flynn is going to make sure you get the help you need. I’m going to leave you here, and they’ll take good care of you. Sort your problems, and fix you.”

She looks scared.

“Don’t be scared. I won’t let anyone harm you. You’ll be completely fine. You can do some of the things you like here, like painting. You still like painting?”

A faint glimmer comes to her eyes as she nods.

“Okay then. I’m going to put you in this wheelchair now, and,” I say pointing John, “this is Dr. Flynn, and he’s going to make sure you get all the help you need. If you need to say anything to me, you will have to get through Dr. Flynn. Do you understand?”

She nods.

“Come on, Leila. Let’s get you in and settled,” says John softly but in his authoritative Dr. voice. Leila’s gaze softens, and she looks at me once more.

“He died, Master. He got killed,” she says about her lover.

“I know Leila. I’m sorry. I really am. I will do all I can to help you. But you can’t go around waving a gun and taking people hostage. You can’t go scaring Anastasia. Do you understand?”

“You love her Master?” she asks surprising me, looking directly into my eyes.

“Yes,” I say softly after a long minute. “I do.” She nods again. “I’m glad,” she replies.

“Goodbye, Leila,” I say and turn back to find Taylor.

“Let’s get back to Escala, Taylor. How was Miss Steele when you dropped her off at the apartment?”

Taylor shifts his feet uncomfortably. His demeanor says she didn’t go to Escala.

“Where the fuck did she go?” I shout at Taylor fuming, seething with anger.

“Mr. Grey, she wouldn’t go to Escala. I told her that you wanted her to go to the apartment, but she said she’s going out with Ethan for a quick drink and then head back to Escala. She said that now we know where Leila is. No need for all the security, and to tell you she’ll see you later.”

“Fuck! Fuck! Shit!!” I say through gritted teeth as I forcefully run both hands through my hair.

“I need to call her!” I say, but Taylor shifts more. “What?” I bellow poisonously.

“She forgot her purse in the SUV, sir,” he says.

I punch my hand forcefully in anger, and ask, “So, you have no idea where she is?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you seen what direction she went?”

“They were on foot, but they could have taken a cab, sir. So, no, I have not.”

“Fuck! Did she say any other thing?”

“She was so distraught, and asked me if did a sweep of her apartment. I told her we did. I’m sorry Mr. Grey!” he says angry with himself. “Leila has been eluding us all. I feel terrible about it. Especially for Miss Steele. I feel horrible finding her with a gun pointed to her head. I’m so sorry!” says Taylor shaking his head, completely devastated.

“Let’s go!” I say without another word, and get into the SUV. Taylor drives me to Escala.

Mrs. Jones is in the kitchen fixing dinner for me.

“Gayle! Has Anastasia come home?” I ask.

“No, Mr. Grey, she hasn’t,” she replies noting a lot of anger vibrating from me.  

“Would you like something to eat sir?” she asks softly. I shake my head.

“Later,” Taylor is right behind me.

“Taylor, I want you to take the security, and scout for Anastasia one bar at a time in the entire city of Seattle! Call me the minute you find her. Check the streets, check everything. Leave no stone unturned! Do you understand?“

“Yes, sir,” he says and quickly disappears into his office.

I take my Blackberry out, and dial Welch’s number.

“Welch here,” he replies.

“Welch, can you find the cell phone number of an Ethan Kavanagh?”

“It might take me time, sir,” he responds.

“Time, I don’t have! I need to locate him; trace his cell phone location, now!”

“Do we know what carrier he’s with?”

“No clue! This is where you come in  with your mad detective skills!” I hiss.

“I can check sir; it’s a shot in the dark, but it might take me a couple of hours.”

“10 minutes only! Get to it, and let me know what you find out!”

Taylor and his detail has already left to check various bars in Seattle, and check the streets. I’m anxious, ready to combust, scared that Anastasia will leave me after the scene played out before her. My life is going down the fucking drain, and there is not a thing I can do about it!

I dial Taylor’s phone.

“Yes, sir,” he says in a strained voice.

“I need updates immediately.”

“We’re taking different direction sir. We’ve divided the town into quadrants, and each of us is taking a certain location, and we’re going spread out to cover as many bars as possible.”

“Fine! Update me after leaving each bar.”

“Yes, sir!” he replies firmly.

I go to the kitchen and pour myself some brandy. I don’t usually drink hard liquor at this time, but this is not a usual time. My Blackberry buzzes, and I answer immediately.

“Welch is here, Mr. Grey,” he says and hope springs in me.

“Any news?”

“Mr. Grey, I’ve found the carrier, and the phone number for Ethan Kavanagh, but I think either his phone is out of power, or turned off. It’s off the grid, sir,” he says disappointed. I have a shattered feeling inside me.

“Shit!” I bellow.

“Is there anything else I can do for you sir?” he asks.

“No!” I say hanging up.

I down my brandy in one large gulp, and pour myself another one, and down that one, too. I pace back and forth in the great room. No fucking news! No phone calls! Why Ana? Why don’t you ever listen to me? Why can’t you for once do as you are told? Why? Why do you torture me so?

I go to Taylor’s office, and check all the cameras and look to see if she’s coming. Nothing! No one is coming! I have an ominous feeling that this is it, that she will leave me for good! Oh fuck! I don’t know what to do! I don’t know where to find her! Where could she go? She has no key. What if she’s gone with Kavanagh to stay at a hotel? Is Kavanagh comforting her now? Holding her? Easing her pain? Fuck!

I pace back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. If the floor was carpet, I would have worn a track already! My Blackberry buzzes again.

“Mr. Grey, Sawyer has checked a bar thoroughly, and there is no sign of Miss Steele.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m at O’Malley’s, just a little north of Miss Steele’s apartments,” he says and loud noises and basketball announcer possibly from a TV can be heard in the background.

“Any sign of her?” I ask pacing back and forth again by the piano.

“I’m still searching sir. I even checked the ladies room,” he says chagrined. I hear the double doors open into the great room. My head snaps up, and there is Anastasia three sheets to the wind!

“She’s here,” I snap at Taylor, and disconnect the line.

I turn to Anastasia and glare at her with ferocity. “Where the fuck have you been?” I ask her with fuming anger.

She sways where she’s standing, her eyes blink.

“Have you been drinking?” I ask angrily. She’s not supposed to be drinking excessively like this! We’ve agreed upon that. It was one of the rules. I know we don’t follow them anymore, but it’s common sense!

“Just a little bit,” she answers me shrugging. She’s making me fucking angry. Always disobeying, always doing what she wants to do! I run my hand through my hair in complete helpless exasperation. I can’t even go towards her, because I’m so angry. She’s going to be scared of me and run!

“I told you to come back here,” I say in a menacingly quiet voice. “It is now ten fifteen. Do you know how worried I’ve been about you?” I ask.

“I went for a drink..” she says, then amending, “or three with Ethan while you were attending your... ex,” she hisses poisonously. “I didn’t know how long you were going to be with...” she says swallowing. Her mouth makes a small ‘o’ to exhale some toxic air from her body. Then she continues, “...with her,” completely giving up, sad, and defeated. Oh no! no! no! Don’t do that to me! Don’t give up on me!

I narrow my eyes and look at her trying to assess her, not wanting her to run. I take a few slow steps towards her, but noticing her stance, I stop.

“Why do you say it like that?”

She shrugs exhausted, and looks down at her fingers as if they possess the answers she’s seeking. She’s checking out of her body, out of her mind, out of our relationship!

“Ana, what’s wrong?” I ask with horror in my voice.

She just stands there, looking at her knotted fingers, not wanting to look at my eyes. She finally lifts her head up, and swallows.

“Where is Leila?”

“She’s taken to a psychiatric hospital in Fremont,” I say trying to decipher her expression. She’s disconnected from me. Trying to distance herself emotionally.

“Ana, please, what is it?” I ask. I can’t stand the distance between us. I have had a shitty evening. My past is running into my future like a train wreck and I have no way of stopping it! I move right in front of Anastasia, “What’s wrong?” I breathe.

She shakes her head sadly, swallowing hard. “I’m not good for you,” she whispers.

“What?” I breathe, completely alarmed. I can’t go through this! She can’t say that to me! Doesn’t she know how much I love her? Didn’t she know I was ready to die for her tonight?

“Why do you think that? How can you possibly think that Ana?”

“I know I can’t be everything you need,” she says. (←All I Believe In by Magic Numbers)  How would she know what’s in the depths of my heart?

“You are everything I need...everything I want.”

“Just seeing you with her tonight...” she says trailing off unable to bring the rest of her thought. Her eyes are sorrowful, face scrunched in agony.

“Why do you do this to me Ana, why?” I say in utter agony. “this is not about you. It’s about her,” I say willing her to understand I was trying to right something, help someone who once was in my life. “At the moment she’s a very sick girl,” I try to explain her.

“But Christian, I felt it...I felt what you two had together...” she trails off mournfully, already made up her mind.

“What? No!” I try to reach out to her, close the short distance between us that’s already feeling like miles apart, but she takes a step back right away distancing herself from my reach. Oh God! No! It’d be better if she hit me. The one single step she took away from me drains all my energy out of my limbs, I automatically drop my hands to my side. Shocked, worried, sick, I blink into realization. She doesn’t want me! God! She doesn’t want me anymore! I can’t live without her! I panic like I’ve never panicked before; the pain of her leaving me so new, I feel my world crumbling around me once again.

“You’re running?” I whisper. The fear of her absence is so great, I can’t take it. I’d die! She can’t leave me! She just can’t! She’s crucifying me for helping Leila! Don’t leave me, Ana. I’m only in love with you...you alone! No one else...not a single soul in the entire universe, just you! When I saw you, though I met you, I was afraid to know you. When I met you again, I was afraid to kiss you... When I kissed you finally at Heathman elevator, I was afraid to love you, and now that I love you, I’m afraid to lose you. Don’t make me lose you! You’re the only one who can hurt me like no one can!

I was trying to fix someone who once was in my life...But you misunderstand and confuse it with something else. I only love you! I’m just fucking afraid to show you who I really am, because if I do, you not might not like it, and that’s all I got! I’m unworthy, I know that...but, is my love for you something so bad for you to be around? Don’t kill my soul here, Ana, I beg you! (←I Can’t Live Without You by Mariah Carey)

My mind is running a mile a minute, and my mouth has a lot of catching up to do... All I can utter is, “You can’t,” in a plea.

“Christian, I...” she says bewildered. “I...” she can’t even bring the rest of her thoughts. She wants nothing to do with me.

“No! No! No!” I moan in a great agony not as if someone’s leaving me, but as if someone died, and I’m irreparable. Don’t leave me! The greatest misery in the world for me is losing you, don’t you understand? Haunt me! Hurt me! Hit me! Break me! Drive me mad! Drive me insane! But don’t leave me! Be with me always! You will leave me in a perpetual hell...completely lost if I can’t find you and have you! I cannot live without my life! You are my soul, and you take that away, and I’d be worse than what you found me with! All my faculties are lost, and I’m at the brink of my destruction... Please God! Let her stay with me! Let her see how much I love her...

I look around with bewildered, half crazed eyes...begging God to see my agony! This all-consuming misery is killing me! She’s breaking my heart and shattering my soul! You love me, Ana! Don’t betray your own heart! What right do you have to leave me? God! You are inflicting this on us! Every time going gets tough, you leave me!

“You can’t go, Ana! I love you!”

“I love you too Christian. But it’s just..” she says and I cut her off.

“No! No!” I wallow in desperation putting both my hand on my head  rocking back and forth. I’d rather die! I’d rather die than for you to leave me! Don’t.just.leave.me...

“Christian...”

“No!” I breathe all power and energy left my body. Desperate, like I never felt before. My eyes wide with panic, my breathing is erratic, my heart is ready to take flight out of my chest, and suddenly I realize that I have to have her anyway I can. If she wants me her slave, I’ll be her slave. If she wants to beat the shit out of me, I’m ready to submit. If she wants to punish me for my transgressions, here I am to do as she wishes. Just, don’t, leave, me... Be with me always. Any way you can...

I drop to my knees in front of her, bowing my head, sitting on my heels, as my fingers spread on my thighs. I take a deep breath, and become the submissive slave I once was. For Anastasia. Now she can punish me for what I did wrong. She can take me, beat me, hit me, love me, use me. Do as you wish with me Anastasia! Love me, or kill me! But let it be in your hands. Because if you walk out of here, I’m already dead!

I finally check out of my body in my submissive stance, a slave ready to obey any command without any qualms or thoughts. Without any rights. My breathing eases and my consciousness checks out. Staring down, obedient. Ready for her orders. Ready for her punishments. Ready for my mistress. I’m her slave.

“Christian! What are you doing?” she squeaks in a high pitched panicky tone. Surely this panic is not over me, the worthless slave. I remain motionless. I have not received an order to answer. “Christian, look at me!” she commands. My mistress asks me to look at her, what am to do but obey?

My head sweeps up without hesitation to obey her command. I regard her and ready to receive any order from her. Expectantly I look at my Mistress. Order me, Mistress! Do as you wish with me. I’m yours and yours alone. Don’t you know I love you? (←I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston)

Her eyes look at me shocked and bewildered. She’s standing above me as I submit to her at her feet. I look at her with a steady gaze. Order me Mistress. Ask me to love you... Ask me to serve you... Ask me to touch you... Just don’t leave me without you. Do what you want with me! I’m nothing but your slave at your feet. Does she not want me even when I’m ready to serve her? Order me and I’ll drop everything. Take over me, control me, have me, do whatever you want with me...as long as you are with me. Do it with me, do it to me.

Anastasia shakes her head as she inhales sharply. She’s shocked.

“Christian... Christian, please don’t do this. I don’t want this,” she whispers. I regard my mistress passively, unmoving, without uttering a word. I’m not given permission to speak. Her voice crackling.

“Why are you doing this? Talk to me,” she asks in a whisper. I’m silent. Silence is good, it’s what’s required of a slave. (←Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode)

Oh, she is asking me a question. I blink once. She’s ordering me.

“What would you like me to say?” I ask softly of my mistress. My voice is velvety, but without emotion, and insipid, like a submissive, a slave should speak.

Anastasia’s face changes to one of distress and tears start trickling from her eyes running in lazy rivulets from her cheeks. Why is my mistress so distressed? I’m not given permission to comfort her. I’m in my slave mode. I can’t utter a word without her permission. I can’t hold my hand up to wipe those tears away. I have no right to. My mistress’ face turns to one of utter sorrow and misery. What is troubling her? My gaze is on her passively. I see a shudder go through her body. She swallows hard as if what she’s trying to swallow is hard to pass through, choking her. Her gaze is locked on me though her eyes convey something of sadness, worry. Surely not for me; not for an unworthy slave...

Anastasia, my mistress sinks before me. A mistress doesn’t go to the level of her slave, the level of her submissive. This is all wrong! She lifts up her right hand and violently wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. I would like to do that mistress, but you’re not asking me. You’re not giving me permission.

She intently stares into my face, and my eyes widen just a little. I have to submit; that’s all I know. I remain motionless. I’m not given permission.

“Christian, you don’t have to do this,” she says in a pleading voice. But, I do! You don’t want me! You’re going to run!

“I’m not going to run. I’ve told you and told you and told you, I won’t run,” she utters sincerely. I’m scared. You will run. I don’t know any other way to keep you.

“All that’s happened... What I’ve seen, it’s just too overwhelming for me. I just need some time to think. Some time to myself. Why do you always assume the worst?”

But, I know she will run! She doesn’t know the worst of it. She doesn’t know how bad I am. She doesn’t know I’m evil! I’m no good. I’m no good for her, yet, I want her, I love her; I’d die for her! (←You Know No Good by Amy Winehouse)

She opens the floodgates of her thoughts. “I was only going to suggest that I go back to my apartment this evening. Because, you just never give me any time... You know, time for just to think through things I’ve experienced. You have to admit, being with you, seeing the things you do, it’s a lot for me...” she says completely sorrowful and starts sobbing, deep, aching, soul wrenching sobs. She still hasn’t given me permission to comfort her. Though I want to, I’m locked in my place. I only frown a little. “I don’t even have just a little time to think. We hardly know each other, and look at all the baggage that comes with you... Do you know how hard it is for me to handle that?  I need time to digest everything. And now that Leila is off the streets, you know, not being a threat to anyone. I just thought... I thought...” she’s lost in thought, and tears are still trickling from her face. I finally, infinitesimally manage to get to the cusp of being a submissive and what I had been, teetering. I listen to her intently. She’s addressing me. Not the submissive, not the slave, not the dominant. But her boyfriend. The regular Christian. I listen.

“Seeing you with Leila was,” she says stopping as if it’s too painful to speak, too agonizing, too gut wrenching, soul ripping. Her lips quiver and her face shakes as if she’s trying hard to rein in some emotion. “It just was a big shock. In that short time, though seemed a torturous eternity to me, I had a glimpse into your life, and how it has been. And frankly,” she says in her distressed manner when she assumes as she takes a deep, hard look down at her knotted fingers, her tears running steadily down her now puffy cheeks, she continues, “I realized that this is about me not being good enough for you. A realization, and a wakeup call with a giant insight into your life. You know, it made me scared to my core, scared because you will get bored with me, and then you will go... You will go, Christian!” she says looking up at me.

“Do you know what will happen to me then? I will end up like Leila!” she says jacking her thumb back into the space. Then her voice softens to barely audible levels. “I’ll end up a shadow of my former self. Because I love you Christian Grey, if you leave me, I will be in a world without light. I’ll be in perpetual darkness. I don’t want to run away from you. But I’m so very frightened that you will leave me... That’s my personal torment.”

She doesn’t look at me anymore. But I listen intently. She shakes her head, and in the humblest tone she has ever had, and the softest whisper she says, “I don’t understand why you find me attractive. I don’t. You’re, well, you’re you... This god! And look at me, I’m nothing...” she shrugs finally her eyes meeting mine. “I guess I just don’t see it. You’re incredibly beautiful, sexier than anyone else, successful... And you’re good too, and kind, and caring. You’re all those thing, and I’m none of it. On top that, I can’t do the things you like, or give you what you need. I don’t get it, I guess. How could you be happy with me? How can I possibly hold you within my grasp?” Her voice drops to a sad whisper.

“I just never understood what you see in me. And finally seeing you with Leila, the sight of the two of you, just brought all of that home,” she says whimpering, and wiping away her nose with the back of her hand, still gazing at me.

She bores her gaze into me, willing me to come out of my shell, break out of my submissive stance, reach me. Does she want to reach me? (←Somewhere Only We Know by Keane)

“Are you going to kneel here all night? Because I’ll do it too,” she finally snaps at me, though she looks uncomfortable on the floor shifting on her knees. She cocks her to one side, and finally the Christian she is used to seeing can peak his head up. She looks at my face seeking.

“Christian, please, please, talk to me,” she begs, uncomfortably wringing her hands on her lap, shifting on her sitting position uncomfortable.

She keeps looking, expectant. Waiting for me to say something. I don’t know if I have permission. If I get out of the submissive mode, she might just run and leave.

“Please,” she beseeches again.

My gaze darkens and finally I manage to blink out of the submissive mode I thought I would never get in, ever again. I want to close the distance between us, and just reach out to her, my heart and soul are ready to run to her. (←I Wanna Run To You by Whitney Houston)