Chapter XVI ← FanFiction - Christian and Anastasia - Christian's POV

ICARUS TO SUN

CHAPTER XVI

Daedalus fashion two pairs of wings out of wax and feather for me and himself. In order to make it to the mainland from the island, I’m warned several times to stay on the flight path, and not fly near the sun or too close to the sea. Sun will melt the wax wings and the sea will get them wet making them heavy. He tries the wings first, and he stays on his flight path, and makes it to the mainland. I’m too elated, feel too invincible. I soar through the sky curiously. The sun pulls me to itself. I can’t escape the beauty of it. I’m dazzled; its beauty and warmth pulls me in. I’m on auto pilot running to it. The sun melts my wings first, and I have no feathers left; just flapping my bare arms. I reach out and try to hold onto the sun. Even though it’s hot, I embrace it, hold it. I don’t want to fall away from it. Wrap myself in it knowing I will burn. I want to embrace it. I approach the sun, expecting to be burnt...willingly at that; but when I get incredibly close at its magnificent power, its brightness gets blinding, and I expect to dissipate; but then it becomes Anastasia, and my savior. I wrap into her, merging.

The heat… it’s stifling, overpowering as well as welcoming. I feel a movement. Hands pulling her. I moan: “No! no!”

Hands, taking her, yanking her away. I wrap myself around her, like a victory flag as not to let her get pulled away from me.  Then finger tips move around my chest. Anastasia is too trying to hold onto me. I stir and groan to keep her close to me. I nuzzle her chest, and inhale deeply. My eyes flutter open. It was a dream. She’s here in my arms. Relief floods me. My eyes meet her baby blues sleepily as I mumble “Good morning,” to her, blinking. I find my head in her chest my arms and legs draped around her, completely covering her, captivating her in my embrace even in my sleep, making me frown. 

“Jesus, even in my sleep I’m drawn to you,” I say. I move slowly, unpeeling my limbs from her body as I get my bearings. My erection is against her hips. I notice her wide-eyed reaction, making me smile slowly, salaciously. (← I melt with you by Nouvelle Vague)

“Hmm… this has possibilities, but I think we should wait until Sunday.” I lean down and nuzzle  her ear with my nose. She flushes crimson.

“You’re very hot,” she murmurs making me smile even more.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I murmur back to her and press myself against her, suggestively. She flushes some more. I love the way she reacts to me. I prop myself up on my elbow gazing down at her, amused. I bend, and plant a gentle kiss on her surprised lips.

“Sleep well?” I ask. She nods, staring up at me.

“So did I,” I say frowning. Contemplating. “Yes, in fact, really well,” I say. The realization of it surprises me, leaving me confused.

“What’s the time?” I ask, and she glances up at her alarm clock.

“It’s 7:30,” she says sleepily.

“7:30… shit.” Shit! Shit! Shit! I have a meeting and I will be late!!

I scramble out of bed and drag on my jeans. She looks completely amused seeing my  less than ‘in control' demeanor, and watches me with that smile sitting up. I, Christian Grey am late and flustered. This never happens.

“You are such a bad influence on me. I have a meeting. I have to go – I have to be in Portland at eight. Are you smirking at me?” I ask unable to help myself but be amused at her reaction.

“Yes,” she responds. I grin.

“I’m late. I don’t do late. Another first, Miss Steele.” I pull on my jacket and then bend down and grasp her head, my hands on either side.

“Sunday,” I say with an unspoken promise.

I lean forward and kiss her quickly. I grab my things from the side table and my shoes in my hands. I’ll put them on in the car.

“Taylor will come and sort your Beetle. I was serious. Don’t drive it. I’ll see you at my place on Sunday. I’ll e-mail you a time.” And like a whirlwind, I’m out of the door.

I run down the stair two to three at a time, and run to my car. An older woman who took her dog out for a walk stops in her tracks thinking I’m going to rush her, but I mutter a “hello” even surprising myself, putting a smile on her face, and get to my car. Even though I’m never late to anything, and I should be nervous and upset for being late, I have this quickness in my step, and quite the opposite, and extremely elated. There’s only one reason for feeling this way. Her name is Anastasia Steele. I spent the night with her. Not because she was drunk, not because I had no other place to sleep in, but because I wanted to, because she wanted me to. I feel incredibly rested, and had not nightmares. Even the pimp was not able to get to me at night. Each time she spent the night with me, I had a good night’s sleep. This can’t be an accident! It’s the third time.

I get in my car quickly, put my phone in its cradle, ease into my shoes, and dial Taylor as I back out of the parking space. He answers on the first ring.

“Yes, sir,” he answers.

“Taylor, I’m running late this morning. Where are you?” I ask. He pauses all for three seconds, and this is Taylor’s version of extremely shocked. He usually never shows his emotions, and he’s passive like me.

“I’m at the Heathman’s restaurant sir. Your business meeting guests have arrived,” he says.

“Ok. Keep them busy. I’ll be in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh Taylor, what’s the ETA on the Blackberry?”

“The delivery is scheduled for 1:00 p.m.,” says Taylor with a certain satisfaction having resolved this problem.

“I’m driving back to Seattle today. I need you to dispose of Miss Steele car today. Did you already speak with the dealer?”

“Yes, sir. He was surprised, but because we purchase so many vehicles from them, he was more than willing to pay a decent sum. He said he might have a collector who might want to restore it to its former glory,” said Taylor with distaste as if an old barely moving deathtrap of a car could have any restoration value. 

“Fine. Report me back afterwards. Meet me at the door in ten.”

“Yes, sir,” he says and I hang up.

I make my exit from the freeway, and drive around the Heathman’s. I come to a stop in front of the hotel, and toss the keys to the valet who takes it with a large grin. Taylor’s waiting by the door.

“How many of them?” I ask without a preamble.

“There are four people sir. I had them reserve a private meeting room. Ros is here. I took the liberty of texting her last night to be here early in the morning,” he says with an impassive look.

I give him a sideways glance. He knows me very well. When I walk into the private meeting room, Ros is already talking to the clients. They all get up when I walk in. Taylor stays by the door, impassive look plastered on his face, he’s staring straight ahead; I know him well enough to know that his eyes and ears are open. I shake hands with each of them, and acknowledge Ros by a nod, and say “Ros,” to which she responds, “Mr. Grey.”

We continue our business talks. Taylor had already set-up my laptop before my seat. I had heard my e-mail buzz when I was speaking with Taylor on the way here. I open the message which brightens my eyes. It’s from Anastasia. She took my advice, and wrote her thoughts and feelings about last night’s issues.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Assault and Battery: The after-effects
Date: May 27 2011 08:06
To: Christian Grey

Dear Mr. Grey

You wanted to know why I felt confused after you – which euphemism should we apply - spanked, punished, beat, assaulted me. Well, during the whole alarming process I felt demeaned, debased and abused. And much to my mortification, you’re right, I was aroused which was completely unexpected given how humiliated I felt. But as you are well aware, all things sexual are utterly new to me. In a way I just wish I was more experienced and therefore more prepared to understand better. I was shocked to feel aroused. What really worried me was how I felt afterwards. And that’s more difficult to articulate. You see, I was happy that you were happy. I also felt relieved that it wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. And when I was lying in your arms, I felt – sated.

But I feel very uncomfortable, guilty even, feeling that way. It doesn’t sit well with me, and I’m confused as a result. Does that answer your question?

I hope the world of Mergers and Acquisitions is as stimulating as ever… and that you weren’t too late. Thank you for staying with me.

Ana

__________________________________________

I’m completely relieved to read about her feelings in regards to the punishment she received. It really scared me a lot last night – and that she might somehow slip through my fingers, not liking how I was punishing her. She sounds completely like Tess D’Urbervilles. Obviously it isn’t surprising since she went for the debasement.  I type her a response right away. Ros is leading the conversation, and I’m observing.

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Free Your Mind
Date: May 27 2011 08:25
To: Anastasia Steele

This is very Interesting… if slightly overstated title heading, Miss Steele.

To answer your points: I’ll go with spanking – as that’s what it was. So you felt demeaned, debased, abused and assaulted – how very Tess D’Urbervilles of you. I believe it was you who decided on the debasement, if I remember correctly.

Do you really feel like this or do you think you ought to feel like this? Two very different things. If that is how you feel, do you think you could just try and embrace these feelings, deal with them, for me? That’s what a submissive would do. I am grateful for your inexperience. I value it, and I’m only beginning to understand what it means. Simply put… it means that you are mine in every way.

Yes, you were aroused, which in turn was very arousing, there’s nothing wrong with that. Happy does not even begin to cover how I felt. Ecstatic joy comes close. Punishment spanking hurts far more than sensual spanking – so that’s about as hard as it gets, unless of course you commit some major transgression, in which case I’ll use some implement to punish you with. My hand was very sore. But I like that. I felt sated, too – more so than you could ever know.

Don’t waste your energy on guilt, feelings of wrongdoing, etc. We are consenting adults and what we do behind closed doors is between ourselves. You need to free your mind and listen to your body. The world of M&A is not nearly as stimulating as you are, Miss Steele.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

I hit send as I nod to a point Ros is making for the prospective clients. I look interested. I lean back in my chair. Within two minutes, Anastasia’s answering e-mail takes its place in my e-mail box. My breath hitches in well contained excitement. I move my mouse and click it open.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Consenting Adults!
Date: May 27 2011 08:27
To: Christian Grey

Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting? I’m very glad your hand was sore. And if I listened to my body, I’d be in Alaska by now.

Ana

PS: I will think about embracing these feelings.

__________________________________________

Aren’t we feisty this morning? Just the way I like it. She toys with me even when she doesn’t mean to. It’s unbelievably hot, and frustrating at the same time. Her post script note gives me a lot of hope making me sigh with relief. I type my response after I answer a question about some basic issues with the future markets.

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: You Didn’t Call the Cops
Date: May 27 2011 08:36
To: Anastasia Steele

Miss Steele,

I am in a meeting discussing the futures market, if you’re really interested. For the record – you stood beside me knowing what I was going to do. At any time during your punishment, you didn’t ask me to stop, neither did you use the safeword. You are an adult and you have choices. Quite frankly, I’m looking forward to the next time my palm is ringing with pain. You’re obviously not listening to the right part of your body.

Alaska is very cold and no place to run. I would find you. I can track your cell phone – remember?

Go to work.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

Alaska... Baby, I can find you on the other side of the world. Take that Miss Steele! Put it in your pipe and smoke it. I hit send. She doesn’t waste any time to reply me of course. She has a smart mouth which reaches all the way through her laptop which I would love to tame.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Stalker
Date: May 27 2011 08:37
To: Christian Grey

Have you sought therapy for your stalker tendencies?

Ana

__________________________________________

And, of course this is what I expected her to say. I smile, and try not to look like an idiot to the people I’m having a business meeting with.

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Stalker? Me?
Date: May 27 2011 08:39
To: Anastasia Steele

I pay the eminent Dr. Flynn a small fortune with regard to my stalker and other tendencies.

Go to work.

Christian Grey CEO,
 Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

Of course, she’ll stay and argue with me.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Expensive Charlatans
Date: May 27 2011 08:41
To: Christian Grey

May I humbly suggest you seek a second opinion? I am not sure that Dr. Flynn is very effective.

Miss Steele

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Second Opinions
Date: May 27 2011 08:44
To: Anastasia Steele

Not that it’s any of your business, humble or otherwise, but Dr. Flynn is the second opinion. You will have to speed, in your new car, putting yourself at unnecessary risk – I think that’s against the rules.

GO TO WORK.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

Does she ever listen to me? And sure enough, another message appears from her.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: SHOUTY CAPITALS
Date: May 27 2011 08:48
To: Christian Grey

As the object of your stalker tendencies – I think it is my business, actually. I haven’t signed yet. So rules, schmules. And I don’t start until 9:30.

Miss Steele

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Descriptive Linguistics
Date: May 27 2011 08:50
To: Anastasia Steele

Schmules? Not sure where that appears in Webster’s Dictionary.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Descriptive Linguistics
Date: May 27 2011 08:53
To: Christian Grey

It’s between control freak and stalker. And descriptive linguistics is a hard limit for me. Will you stop bothering me now? I’d like to go to work in my new car.

Ana

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Challenging but amusing Young Women
Date: May 27 2011 08:56
To: Anastasia Steele

My palm is twitching. Drive safely, Miss Steele.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

The meeting is over in another thirty minutes. But, Ros and I stay and go over some business plans, and discuss about our plans to acquire a new dock in Asia to save from the overhead expenses. It’s about eleven o’clock by the time Ros leaves back to Seattle. I should also be leaving soon. I go to my suite, and of course Taylor packed everything ready to go.

Taylor comes in.

“Sir, Miss Steele’s Blackberry is on its way to be delivered. She should have it within the hour. It’s fully charged, all set up with your contact information, as well as with her e-mail account. And I have forwarded her phone number to yours sir,” he says in a voice with tinge of slight pride. I nod. Efficiency should be Taylor’s middle name.

“When Miss Steele leaves work this evening, go and collect her car and dispose of it. Then drive back to Seattle.”

“Yes, sir,” he says.

I type another message to Anastasia. She’ll be able to read it once her Blackberry is delivered.

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: BlackBerry ON LOAN
Date: May 27 2011 11:16
To: Anastasia Steele

I need to be able to contact you at all times, and since the written format is your most honest form of communication, I figured you needed a BlackBerry.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

Even though I know that she’ll freak out to receive yet another gadget from me, I want to, no, actually I need to be able to get in touch with her at all times. I need to know where she is, how she is, who she is with. I need control. I simply don’t know any other way. She’s mine, and I am possessive of what’s mine. I don’t share.

__________________________________________

From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Consumerism Gone Mad
Date: May 27 2011 13:23
To: Christian Grey

I think you need to call Dr. Flynn right now. Your stalker tendencies are running amok. I am at work. I will e-mail you when I get home. Thank you for yet another gadget. I wasn’t wrong when I said you were the ultimate consumer. Why do you do this?

Ana

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sagacity from one so young
Date: May 27 2011 13:25
To: Anastasia Steele

Fair point well made, as ever, Miss Steele. Dr. Flynn is on vacation. And I do this because I can.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

Thinking of the things I can do, I don’t think I want my own physician to solve the contraception issue for Anastasia. For one thing, he’s a male doctor. I don’t want another guy looking at Anastasia’s privates even if he’s a doctor. I will get the best OBGYN for her. Andrea just e-mailed me the confirmation of the appointment. She’ll be coming to Escala at 1:30 Saturday. When money is no object, everyone’s schedule opens up, and make time for you. That’s one of the things I love about having large sums of money. It makes life possible in your own terms...Most the time. All bets are off when it comes to Miss Steele though.

I send her another e-mail informing about her appointment time. Because I have to leave soon, I’m in a hurry to get going. I have spent here a week, and I’m anxious to get back to Seattle to tend some business, and frankly be in my own home.

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sunday
Date: May 27 2011 13:40
To: Anastasia Steele

Shall I see you at 1 p.m. Sunday? The doctor will be at Escala to see you at 1:30. I’m leaving for Seattle now. I hope your move goes well, and I look forward to Sunday.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

I leave to drive home. The drive to Seattle is smooth though a little long. I want to get to the city before the rush hour traffic hit. Music always helps. It’s Kings of Leon. Their melody is loud through my R8’s speakers. Closer... As he sings “She took my heart and she took my soul,” my breath hitches. Did Anastasia do that do me? (← Closer by Kings of Leon)

I murmur along with him with the lyrics as my heart constricts:

“You shimmy – shook my boat,

Leaving me stranded all in love on my own,

Do you think of me?

Where am I now?

Baby where do I sleep?

Feels so good but I’m old,

2000 years of chasing taking its toll,

And it’s coming closer...”

Does she think of me as often as I think of her? Fear grips me just by singing along to the lyrics. She did shake my sturdy boat. I let out a sigh of relief when the song is over.

The lyrics are in my head like a broken record over and over again. “Do you think of me? Do you think of me? Do you think of me Anastasia?” I shake my head to clear the thoughts. By the time I get to Escala it’s already passed 5:00 p.m. I park at my bay in the Escala parking lot, and quickly make my way to the elevators. I punch in my code, and the elevator smoothly takes me up to my suite. As I make my way to my suite, Mrs. Jones comes out and greets me.

“Welcome home Mr. Grey. Shall I get your dinner ready sir?”

“Yes. I’ll be ready to eat in 15 minutes Mrs. Jones.” I say and make my way to my room. I leave my jacket neatly on the chair, and take a quick shower. I put on my black jeans and white linen shirt. No socks or shoes. I pour myself some wine to pair it with delicious fish Mrs. Jones cooked. I dial Anastasia’s number. She should have left work already. But she doesn’t answer. I frown. Check the time. It’s passed 5:30 p.m. I call Taylor.

“Yes, sir,” he answers on the second ring.

“Where are you?” I ask.

“I have just dropped Miss Steele’s car, and collected the payment sir. I’m on my way back to the hotel to collect the SUV right now sir.”

“What was Miss Steele doing?”

“She and her roommate appeared to be in the middle of packing,” he responds giving me a sigh of relief. So she was busy, but at home.

“Did she say anything to you?” I ask firmly.

“She asked me how long I worked for you.”

“That’s it?” I probe.

“Yes sir. I didn’t stay long after she collected her belongings from the vehicle,” he responds.

“When will you be leaving?”

“I should be able to leave within 30 minutes sir,” he responds.

“I’ll brief you about tomorrow when you get back,” I say.

“Yes, sir,” he responds, I hang up.

I finish my meal, and leave to my office. My phone rings. I grab at it excitedly thinking its Anastasia.

“Hello?” I say without looking at the number a little too softly?

“Oh, that is sooo sweet!” drawls Elliot.

Fuck! I don’t want to give him ammo to tease me.

“What’s up Elliot?” I say in the tone he’s used to hearing.

“Nothing. I was just going to ask you what time Mia is coming back tomorrow.”

“Oh,” I say, and give him the time.

“Well, thanks for picking her up bro. But, you know I’m making up to you for picking her up by helping your girlfriend move to Seattle!” he says teasing.

“What? Did your girlfriend change her mind about moving?” I ask teasing.

“Of course not. You can’t even take a joke bro!” he says. “Hey, I’m going over to their apartment right now. Anything you want me to tell her?” he asks teasing, fucking bastard.

“Nothing I can’t tell her myself. Thanks,” I say hanging up.

The conversation makes me jealous. He’ll get to see Anastasia, and I won’t. Hell, I can’t even reach her! It’s the third time now I’m dialing, and she hasn’t picked her phone up! It’s maddening! I want to be able to reach her via the phone, or e-mail. Is it too much for her to answer her phone or reply her messages?

I try to calm myself down by telling myself she’s moving tomorrow, and she’s possibly packed up her laptop. But did she pack her phone too?

I’m supposed to be going to a fundraiser tonight. My mind is completely occupied with Anastasia. This will give me some sort of diversion. Something to do. I get out of my study, and go to my closet. It’s a black tie event. I find my tux and as I look for a bow, my hand caresses the silver tie slowly. I close my eyes, and try to gain control over my breathing. What has she done to me in such a short time? What is happening to me? I’ve never, ever been attached to a woman like this. Not even when I thought I was in love with Elena, and of course I wasn’t. I put my socks and shoes on.  Before I leave my suite, I call Anastasia once again. No answer. I pace around the great room both my hands running through my hair in frustration. She says she’ll call me when she gets home from work, and she doesn’t keep her word. I dial her number again. It rings four times, and her voice mail picks up. This time I leave her an angry message:

‘Anastasia, I think you need to learn to manage my expectations. I am not a patient man. If you say you are going to contact me when you finish work, then you should have enough decency to do so. Otherwise, I worry, and worrying is not an emotion I’m familiar with, and I don’t tolerate it very well. Call me.’ I hang up.

It’s fucking frustrating! If she was near, I’d drive over there and let my hand ache again! Right now I have to show my face at a fundraiser. I will get there, say my hellos, write my check and get back. I rush out of my suite, my mind is occupied with the thoughts of Anastasia.

*

It’s passed 10:00 p.m. and I still haven’t received a call or a message back from Anastasia. Worry washes over me. What’s wrong? Why hasn’t she called me, or wrote to me? She said she would. Something must have happened. I can’t handle the suspense, and send her an e-mail from my Blackberry:

__________________________________________

From: Christian Grey
Subject: Where are you?
Date: May 27 2011 22:15
To: Anastasia Steele

‘I am at work. I will e-mail you when I get home.’ Is what you wrote earlier. Are you still at work or have you packed your phone, BlackBerry and MacBook? Call me, or I may be forced to call Elliot. I know he’s over at your place.

Christian Grey CEO,
Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

__________________________________________

With my message sent, I say my goodbyes and nod at the ogling women though that's the last thing I want to do, and leave the building in a hurry. I loosen my bowtie in the car once the valet drives it up front of the building. I drive home faster than I should. I wait the fifteen seconds the garage gate lifts up, and I drive in impatiently. I go to one of my bays and park the car. I walk out and press the call button on the elevator. They’ll never be the same for me. Every time I enter one, I think of her. I close my eyes all the way to my penthouse. Once I enter into my suite, I sigh, and pour myself a glass of wine, and taking my jacket off I lay it on the chair and go to play my piano. I always somehow drift back to playing same forlorn music...over and over again. The music is forlorn, and sad, and drowns me in some unknown sorrow. (←Suffocation by Chopin)

My phone buzzes in my pocket nearly thirty minutes after I start playing. This time I check the caller ID. My heart stutters for a second. It’s Anastasia. I feel relief wash over me. She’s finally called.

“Hi,” I answer softly. She’s silent for a few seconds. “Hi,” she finally responds.

“I was worried about you,” I say concerned.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t reply, but I’m fine.” I lean towards the piano, let the relief completely cover me, and take me out of the suffocation. My eyes still closed, still trying to get to that mental shore, I say, “Did you have a pleasant evening?” And do you know the kind of storms you let loose in my tormented soul? Just the sound of your voice releases me from my internal suffocation and torment. I breathe slowly. (← Nocturne from The Secret Garden)

“Yes. We finished packing and Kate and I shared a Chinese take-out with José.” When she says his name I feel the rip tide is pulling me back into the ocean of suffocation. I remind myself she’s calling me, and talking to me in that sweet voice. She’s still mine.

“How about you?” she asks me.

Breathe Grey, breathe, I remind myself. Eventually, I sigh, resigning... only for the time being.

“I went to a fundraising dinner. It was deathly dull. I left as soon as I could,” I say unable to keep the sadness and resignation out of my voice.

“I wish you were here,” she whispers.

“Do you?” I ask her quietly, still utterly sad, my heart clenching. I didn’t even realize how great the fear of losing her was until this moment.

“Yes,” she breathes firmly. I close my eyes willing to believe. Finally I sigh.

 “I’ll see you Sunday?” I ask fearing her answer.

“Yes, Sunday,” she murmurs.

“Goodnight,” I bid her not willing to let go.

“Goodnight, Sir,” she says completely catching me unawares, as I inhale sharply, pulling me ashore from the rip current with two simple fucking words!

“Good luck with your move tomorrow, Anastasia” I say in a soft voice. And we’re both hanging on the phone like teenagers, neither wanting to hang up.

“You hang up,” she whispers making me smile.

“No, you hang up,” I say grinning.

“I don’t want to,” she says making me wish she was here... in my arms.

“Neither do I,” I say.

“Were you very angry with me?” she asks worried.

“Yes,” I respond.

“Are you still?”

“No.”

“So you’re not going to punish me?” she asks worried.

“No. I’m an in-the-moment kind of guy,” I respond.

“I’ve noticed,” she comments.

“You can hang up now, Miss Steele.”

“Do you really want me to, Sir?” she says making my heart skip a beat.

“Go to bed, Anastasia,” I say finally relief fully covering me.

“Yes, Sir,” she says, but somehow we both stay on the line.

“Do you ever think you’ll be able to do what you’re told?” I ask both amused because she’s just as affected by me as I am of her, and exasperated because she has not a single obedient bone in her body, I sigh.   

“Maybe. We’ll see after Sunday,” she says, and finally hangs up the phone.

What am I going to do with you Anastasia? Worse yet, what would I do without you? I slowly make my way to my bedroom with the thoughts of Anastasia, and five minutes later I’m in my bed with just my boxers on drifting into sleep with her shy smile in my mind. (←With or Without You by U2) 

*****

(Christian and Mia @ the airport)

***

More to come later...

BONUS: Christian's Redemption

CHRISTIAN’S REDEMPTION

(Please be warned that this section is darker: I wanted you to see what happens when love is removed from a relationship as was the case for Christian and Elena. It was purely physical. Then compare it if you will to the emotions Ana and Christian are going through. You will then realize that the attraction wasn't purely physical between Christian and Ana-a big contrast to any other relationship he had. There's more. You will need this chapter to understand why I kept saying it is love that makes this story great!)

“Sit!” she orders barely moving her immaculately trimmed blonde hair. She looks down at me. I could always feel her gaze on me. My head is bowed, I’m sitting on my knees, my fingers spread apart on my lap, my face is expressionless, my head bland, waiting for her order to do her bidding. I wouldn’t dare to look up to her; especially here, at this place. She sits on the chaise lounge extending her left foot to me. I take it obediently.

“Suck!” she barks another order. I take her foot reverently, without thought. Place her big toe and start expertly fallating it the way she likes it. Big toe first, then the second, then the middle. That’s the one that arouses her the most, and then move on the line. She likes her instep licked and nibbled. The effects of it go down to her groin. She arches her foot, and I move my lips to her instep willingly, without question. She leans back in the chaise; I know that though I don’t dare to look up at her. I have been used to the routine. Her left breast would be spilled out by now.

“You’re welcome to borrow my sub; if I can borrow yours after you’re completely satisfied” says another female voice. She says nothing, but she must have acquiesced with a nod to that effect, because I see the bare feet of another sub lean in and start sucking on her nipple. I pause for a short while; anger rising in me. I don’t want to share her with another sub! But what can I do? I kept telling myself not to think. Reminding me. This is to learn to master, and control myself, my emotions. When my pause grows longer, she notices it. Her tone is none too pleasant.

“What do we have here?” she says in her velvet voice. “Worried about a little competition?” she sounds pleased. But I don’t trust her tone. You know how they say “her bark is worse than her bite,” that’s only backwards with Mistress Elena. The calmer she sounds, the harsher she punishes... Like the time she did by pouring hot wax on my chest, knowing how I detest being touched, she pours hot wax as my punishment! She would never take any crap from me. Ever! Giving and receiving pain and pleasure are all the same to her. She could reach an orgasm and moan when she is caning me as punishment, or for the purposes of pleasure.

Right now I don't move. I don't look up. I keep my mind blank. I am a submissive, and I have to do what I am told without thinking. She extracts her foot away from my frozen hand, shifts in her seat, pats the other submissive in the head making me further jealous. No, I am not jealous. I am not supposed to be. I am not supposed think. She stands up over me. The chain on my collar rattled.

“Well well well... How shall I punish you for this offense Christian?” she says in her velvety voice. I swallow. It could be anything. She could swing me from the ropes, tie me up on the cross and whip me, gag me, and cane me, hang weights, use genital clamps... Her options were endless. I say nothing. I keep my mind blank. My already fucked up mind waits for her to decree her punishment with half fear, and half anticipation. She can hurt me and still make it pleasurable. I am a slave to her. I’ve had five years of experience now, and I have been her sub all this time. She beat the crap out of me whenever she thought I got out of line, and did that often. She made me fuck her any way possible and some impossible ways.

“Mistress Stark, you may have to share my sub for this punishment session,” she says to the owner of the sub who is now sitting on his knees on the floor buck naked and looking at his spread out fingers with a serene face.

“You will be roped. I think I like to suspend you today...” she says decisively. “What do you say to that?” she asks serenely but with a disguised threat. I remain motionless, and serene. She yanks the chain up on my collar, forcing me to lift my face up to look into her gaze.

“You respond me when I ask you a direct question! What do you say to that?” she hisses with a threat in her tone.

“Yes mistress,” I respond my gaze finally boring into her eyes longingly.

“Good boy!” she says. I am still the boy here though I’ve been her submissive for the last five years and a man of twenty.

“Now, stand up!” she orders yanking the chain forcing me to get up on my feet. The two mistresses criss cross the fiber ropes around my torso as I stand motionless, tying it making diamond shapes like Turkish baklava. The final loop goes around my throat snugly. The others in the large hall where people are learning how to be a submissive and dominant barely glance up from their own busy pleasures. They make me lie down on a bed. But the odd angle the rope is coiled around my neck forces my head up off the bed. If I were to put my head down, my windpipe would get restricted. I am exposed, but this is something I am used to. It’s been five years since I’ve been a submissive. They lower a pulley above the bed, turning me over. My hands are tied in my back, and my entire body is covered with ropes criss crossing each other. When I’m rolled over, I have to force my head to jerk up because it restricts my breathing. The pulley is tied with the rope behind me and I’m pulled about three feet above the bed. I’m open, exposed and completely helpless, and at the mercy of two mistresses. She occasionally shares me with other mistresses, and borrows their subs like she is doing today.

Mistress Elena pulls my hair back jerking my head up. “Are you alright?” she asks with a passive face.

“Yes, mistress,” I respond my voice hoarse.

“What’s the safe word?” she asks authoritatively.

“Diamond,” I respond trying to keep my head up.

“Good,” she says, “Mistress Stark goes first,” she says as a matter of factly. “I owe her, and you pleasure her to her satisfaction,” she orders me. I fall silent.

She jerks my head up yanking my hair even harder. “What is your reply?”

“Yes, mistress,” I manage to get out trying to manage the pain. “Mistress Stark’s sub is going to be in charge of the ropes, so, he’ll lower you to her level. Got it?”

“Yes, mistress,” I respond hoarsely again.

Mistress Stark lies on the bed, her legs spread apart. She wants to be pleasured, and my mistress orders me to pleasure her. Mistress Stark’s sub lowers the rope low enough so I can reach her pleasure point while Mistress Elena lies in the opposite direction and starts pleasuring me to get me in the mood. As my head goes up and down, my breathing is restricted which is giving me pain, but on the other side Mistress Elena is pleasuring me which is making me want to go on. I am in a conundrum.

I want to stop, because I don’t want to be shared with another Mistress. But I want to go on, because Mistress Elena is pleasuring me. Mistress Stark is raising her hip up and trying to get her full due, but the rope that’s coiled around my neck is restricting my ability to give her full due that says she’s owed by my mistress, and also hurting my neck as it goes down, constantly pulling it into that odd angle to get half a breath.

“Faster!” orders Mistress Stark not fully satisfied. I’m about to pass out, but I don’t want to embarrass my Mistress with an incompetent sub. But my breathing goes harsher as I have to bury my head into her pleasure point, and the last thing I remember is my eyes rolling back in my head, and lights out.

*

*

“Christian, you know you must be punished,” she says calmly. “You did not use the safe word, and what’s more, this reflects badly on me, as you know it is one of my rules that you must absolutely reflect your best especially when we’re among our own kind.” She gives me one of her chiding and pointed looks. I don’t exactly know what is going through her head, but the calmness of her voice doesn’t convince me one bit that she will not punish me severely. Because she can come up with a creative way to get her revenge, deprive me of relief and gain total and absolute control over me.

I’m kneeled on the floor. I wish she’d have a little love for me, more than just the punishment, or fucking. But she says “love is for the fools! It is a useless emotion. It’s a deterrent, it’s a human failure. You need control to master your destiny, and love takes that control away from people.” I always wondered how it would be liked to be kissed by Elena. You know, a kiss with emotions, with gut twisting desires, a kiss that would want you to do anything for that person, not that I wouldn’t anyway, but, she... She never showed me such an emotion! She never has it for me...

“Now, you must take your punishment,” she says.

“Yes, mistress,” I respond serenely.

“Do you know why you’re being punished Christian?”

“Yes mistress. I didn’t use the safe word, and I made you look bad in front of another mistress by not fully satisfying her and passing out,” I say.

She binds me spread eagle on the cross. I can’t move, and I hate this position. She moves her flog around me slowly, but I’m not deceived. The next thing I feel is the tendrils of the flog hitting me in the family jewels. Both painful and pleasurable. I’m already gagged so I can only make a groaning sound. She moves around and hits me on the buttocks and making her way around to my jewels again over and over again. She then brings out a piece of paper which would perhaps resemble an extremely fine sand paper. I hate that, because it makes your skin nearly peel off but not enough. The blood rushes to the surface, and you feel pleasure but the pain is on the extreme. She wraps that paper around my manhood, and starts rubbing with a soft gleam in her eyes.

“This is your punishment Christian! You will not disobey me again! Do you understand that?” she says.

I nod my head, but pain shots through me beyond the amount of pleasure which I can forego. I barely can signal with my hand as the pain is incredible, and because I’m gagged and she’s completely occupied with her punishment phase, I force to shake my body so she notices my hand signal. She’s aroused and breathy and finally brings herself to stop the punishment. She quickly unbuckles all my restrictions, as I collapse onto the floor in supine position to absorb the pain better. She walks around me, rubs my arms where she knows she can touch. Although she doesn’t really give a fuck where she touches... Dare I even say ‘no’ to her? She’d beat the crap out of me.

“Well, that concludes your punishment for one of the offenses. I’m still not done with you Christian,” she says, no emotion, no consolation in her voice. But it is soft and melodic, hypnotizing.

I roll over my back. Though I’m sore that, it’s the least of my pains. I fix my gaze on her and say with a barely audible voice through pain:

“I don’t want to be your sub anymore!”

Shock fills her eyes. “Christian, it’s the pain talking, you know you like this! This gives you discipline, this gives you purpose, this gives you control, and you are in charge. If not you learn to be in charge!” she says with fervor in her eyes. I shake my head. I know my limit, and I know my likes. This isn’t it! I don’t want to share; neither do I want to be shared. I like control; not to be controlled. From now on, I’m going to be the dominant. I won’t be subbing for anyone; not even for Elena! She doesn’t requite anything I feel for her. She doesn’t even hold me after she's done inflicting pain on me!

“When you feel better, we’ll talk. I’ll leave you to yourself,” she says and the last thing I see is her black boots walking out of the room.

I find myself doubled, and holding my privates, pulling my legs up as if to suppress some pain, and roll over and over. Tears jerking out of my eyes on their own volition. Pain is great, and there is no pleasure left. It makes me roll on the floor like child’s top aimlessly.

“Ouch!” I land on my back off the bed in Heathman Hotel!  My heart is nearly jumping out of my chest because of the nightmare I’ve had. The nightmare is about the last day I ever was a submissive for Elena, for anyone.

I sit on the floor on my now sore butt, in the dark pulling my knees up, supporting my elbows, my hands cover my face and run through my hair. Will I ever get over this fucked up shit? Not even in my dreams, I’m not free! That’s why I have written rules. That’s why I am cautious of the needs of my partners, likes and dislikes, so I don’t hurt anyone like I was hurt.

Anastasia said she was afraid that I would hurt her. I would never do that to her! And now she wants hearts and flowers. I don’t fucking know how to do that! God knows how much I want, and desire her! What do I do? How do I compromise? How do I make it work out of all this shit that clouding me day and night? I want to make it work. I wanted nothing as much, nothing as badly, as fervently, strongly, and adamantly! But when it comes to Anastasia, all bets are off. In the corner of my dark soul, I already know she’s “more” to me. I’ve never been anything more than a sub or Dom for the last year of my relationship with Elena, and after that we just remained friends because we share a past. But, Anastasia is different. She’s unlike anyone. I think she’d kick Elena’s butt to the curb as I already know her dislike of Elena because of our past. She may be a shy girl, but there is a tiger in her ready to pounce.

The year after of that incident, I quit school as well to start my own business to the complete disappointment of my family. I knew I could never work for someone else as I knew I disliked being a sub. I would be my own master.  I’ve made a vow that day to be in complete charge of my life. Not to be told, but to tell others what to do. I made goals and I’ve put them into practice.

Long term and short term goals. Like a chess player, I’ve calculated my future moves five sometimes six step ahead. I vowed to never be at the behest of someone else, friend or foe. I am a realist. I wanted to be successful. Badly! I wanted to be worthy of my family’s affection, though I don’t know if I could ever feel at par with them, being how fucked up I am since birth which disgusted me. I disgust and abhor myself. Maybe it’s my attempt to redeem my unredeemable soul. Nothing but music and piano gave me solace.  (← Duettino Sull’aria Le nozze di Figaro by Mozart)

I’ve heard people numerous times that they wished they win the lottery, or start a business, or inherit some money, or some attempt to become wealthy, but none of those people had realistic goals.

I wanted my goals to be measurable, calculable, with an ETA attached to it. Since I already knew how to take control by observing those- by that I mean my Mistress and whoever she deemed to loan me to- who controlled me all those years. I have no ill will for Elena. I’m in a way grateful for what she thought me, what she had given me, and being a friend. But, I’m never going back there again.

I’ve learned how to control my emotions, and dreams, and my business to reach the end goal – whatever the next thing is for me.

But with all I’m feeling right now, I have this sense that there is no next one where Anastasia is concerned. She’s always on my mind! (←Always on My Mind by Michael Buble)

In my business as well as personal life as in my training, I made my long term goals to be accomplished within the next five years, some goals I have goes as far as ten years or more of goals. And my short term goals are the ones that I wish to accomplish or attain within the twelve month forecast. They’re measurable, written, and flexible. If I manage to fulfill my goal before the time I envisioned, then, I lower my time frame and up my expectations. If however, it’s coming along slower than expected; I change the boundaries and set the date further. I only employ the best, and I expect their best effort. I plan well, I manage my time well, and these are all part of my reflexive action. I don’t have to give it a second thought as to what I should be doing now, because I already know what my future moves should be.

Why can’t I employ any of these skills where Anastasia is concerned? When she’s near me, all bets are off. When she’s away from me, like right now, my mind is constantly occupied with her as if my brain has no other work to do! Elena engrained in me that love is a useless emotion. What I feel for Anastasia couldn’t be love! Because when I’m around her, I find my purpose. If love is a useless emotion, then I wouldn’t be feeling purposeful. I do get lost often with her... I don’t know what she will say, or do, or how she will respond to anything simple or complex. But I love finding my way around. I feel alive! I breathe easy. I find my center. I’m no longer lost.

The day she came into my office and sprawled on my floor, the Seattle skies were bleak and grey perfectly reflecting my mood. After I managed to achieve my goals, nothing really satisfied me, and I had nothing to look forward to. No acquisition made me complete, or fulfilled. No talks with Elena, or visits to my family plugged the gaping and ever growing hole inside me, inside my dark soul! My hobbies of flying and sailing only managed to put a Band-Aid on it. I had a missing piece from the core of my being. My soul was missing, and I found it in her. How could I let it go? She’s my reckoning. (←Can’t Help Falling in Love by UB40)

She’s my new purpose. She’s my freedom out of my own bondage. Her tornado sets me free even if it gives me pain in the process. How could I let my soul go when it’s constantly calling me?

She’s my soul. She’s my purpose in life. She’s what fills the abyss, this black hole within me. She’s part of me. How could I let her go when she is part of my soul, part of me? I think of William Ernest Henley’s poem which perfectly speaks of my feelings:

Invictus (← Read by Morgan Freeman)
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Right this moment, it’s all Anastasia, and nothing else. (← You're in My Heart by Rod Stewart)

****
Hello CG&AS Fans! I wanted to give you a glimpse of Christian's past, part of what contributed to his troubled present. How he made his attempts to change his future, and what still plagues him in the night when no one is present, and why he has the hesitation and questions in his relationship with Ana, and what pulls him to take baby steps. This is part of Christian's Invictus. I was going to post this after the next chapter, but I think you will need this info before the next chapter comes in order to understand our main man better.