A/N: I know, I know I should be working on my latest Edward/Bella fanfic but I've become wrapped up in the world of Fifty Shades of Grey and couldn't resist writing this short little one shot that came to be during a fit of insomnia the other night. There aren't many Fifty stories on here, very few actually. I might expand this fic if there's any interest in it so please leave a review.

Now, back to work on my new E/B fic... I blame the writers block on being pregnant... I just don't feel like writing sexy stories while experiencing 24/7 morning sickness!

Thanks for reading!


SIX YEARS OF FIFTY

Part One

I remember her slapping me. I made some smartass comment not unlike any other typical fifteen year old boy. Before I knew it her hand was connecting to my cheek. I was stunned. I couldn't move. Before I came to my senses her index finger and thumb were grasping my chin and Mrs. Lincoln was leaning in to kiss me on the mouth. It happened so suddenly I don't think I even responded with my lips. It was my first kiss. And I was very unprepared. I hadn't thought much about kissing girls my own age knowing I couldn't tolerate the closeness necessary for such an act. Mrs. Lincoln seemed to know about my unusual condition.

She let my chin go as quickly as she'd grasped it and told me to come back tomorrow to finish the yard work. I nodded, still speechless and stunned by her inappropriate behavior. That night I didn't have the usual restless sleep and nightmares that usually accompanied my nights. Instead, I dreamt of Mrs. Lincoln, taking her beneath the weeping willow tree in her back yard. I woke the next morning sweaty and in need of clean sheets.

Later that day after school I returned to the yard work. Mrs. Lincoln came outside again and offered me some lemonade. When I replied, "Yeah, I guess," to her offer she slapped me again. Harder than the day before and this time I was prepared for it, hoping for it. Again she grabbed my chin in her hand and kissed me hard. She told me to come find her when the yard was clean.

She was in the library, leafing through an old book of poetry when I entered.

"Christian. I was thinking about how much work needs to be done around here. You could come over after school, say twice a week. You could do the yard work and other small projects and it would give us chance to play together. What do you think?"

The way she said the word play made my groin tingle, her tone thick with implication that there would be more inappropriateness in our future. I eagerly replied, "okay" and she slapped my cheek again. I was really starting to like it when she did that.

"Say yes ma'am," she corrected, her eyebrows raised in warning but there was something about the look in her eyes that told me she liked reprimanding me.

"I've heard about your troubles in school, getting into fights and that sort of thing. Do you like being hit by the boys at school, Christian?" I hadn't thought much about why I antagonized my male classmates other than I did it just to feel some kind of human contact. Delving much deeper into why I needed contact in that manner was too painful to dwell on. "Yes, ma'am," I replied to her question. I was surprised when she slapped me again. Hard. "I like doing it too," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Have you ever kissed a girl, Christian?" she asked. I didn't respond, embarrassed by my youthful inexperience. "Would you like me to continue kissing you?" she pressed.

"Yes." Another slap. "Yes ma'am," I corrected myself.

Pleased to see me learning her game she grabbed my chin again and kissed me hard. This kiss was more intense than the two previous ones and suddenly I felt her tongue slip between my lips. I was startled at first but the feel of our mouths connecting in that way made my dick stir. I loved how she was making me feel. So different than what I was used to feeling.

"I want you to touch me, Christian," she breathed wantonly. I stood there gazing at her with wide eyes as she slowly unbuttoned her silk blouse and let it fall to the floor. She wore a lacy white bra and I couldn't take my eyes off her. I couldn't understand why she was doing this with me but I didn't want it to end. "Kiss me here," she whispered tracing her index finger across her cleavage.

I was afraid that when I stepped closer she would put her hands on me in a way I couldn't bear but once again she sensed my anguish and told me with her eyes that she understood. She gracefully lifted her arms up level with her shoulders and stretched them out to the sides, grasping the large bookshelf in her hands. Doing as I was told, I gripped her hips in my hands and buried my face between her breasts. Her skin was soft and warm, and smelled faintly of expensive perfume. She moaned approvingly as I began kissing her breasts repeatedly. After a minute or so she bucked her hips against mine forcing me to take a step back.

I looked into her eyes; confused about what made her stop me and she said, "Take off your shirt, Christian. Now." I hesitated wondering what she was going to do. Her right hand swung forward from its resting place on the bookshelf and slapped my cheek hard enough to turn my head. "Don't think. Just follow my instructions. I won't touch you, boy."

I took a deep breath and reached over my shoulder with one hand to pull the t-shirt off my back. Mrs. Lincoln stared at my bare chest with lust in her eyes. She didn't react the way I expected to the scars dotting my skin which were much more prominent at that age. Instead she licked her lips like I was something delicious to eat. She abruptly turned around to face the bookshelf and grabbed a shelf high above her head with both hands.

"Unhook my bra," she ordered. I did it quickly and she lowered her arms long enough for the lacy material to drop to the floor before stretching them high above her head again. "Now step closer and touch me. I want your hands covering my tits." My breathing was accelerating and my heart pounding wildly but I managed to do what she asked. I palmed her breasts and felt her nipples pebbling beneath my touch. I'd never felt anything so amazing in my life. My eyes closed tight as I breathed in her intoxicating scent.

She instructed me in the ways to fondle her to provide the most pleasure. She made me kneed her flesh roughly, tug and twist her hardened nipples until she gasped in pain. "Flick your thumbs back and forth now, Christian. Yes, like that!" she encouraged me. Instinctively, I slide both hands down the length of her flat abdomen to the waistband of her pants and then back up to claim her tits again. I pinched her nipples between thumb and index fingers the way she showed me and twisted them while tightening my other fingers around as much of her breasts as I could in each handful. I was barely aware of the fact I was breathing heavily against the back of her neck.

"Oh, Christian, you could make me come just like this. Are you hard, boy?"

"What?" I gasped, my voice cracking.

"Do you have an erection?" she clarified, sounding slightly irritated.

I loosened my grip on her breasts in my moment of shock and was embarrassed as I replied honestly. "Yes."

"Step closer and let me feel it against my backside. Do it," she ordered.

Still holding her breasts in both hands and her eyes focused on the bookshelf, I found the courage to comply. I was surprised to feel a surge of pride as I pressed my hardened length against her body. She moaned loudly at our intimate contact and pushed her ass back to meet my hips. My breath hitched at the feel of her pressing herself into my now aching cock and my grip on her tits tightened. Mrs. Lincoln moaned in pain as my fingernails dug into the flesh of her breasts and I was caught completely off guard when she begged me for more.

"Nipples! Harder!" she cried. I didn't understand what was happening to her but I did as she asked; twisting her nipples as hard as I could. Her body convulsed over and over in a way that frightened me. It wasn't until much later did I realize she was experiencing an orgasm. Her breathing slowed and she dropped her head down to her chest.

"Drop your hands now, Christian," she said quietly. She reached for a robe hanging on a coat rack a few feet away and pulled it on before turning to face me. "I want to hit you again, Christian. Would you let me hit your ass for saying 'what' to me and not calling me ma'am?"

"You want to spank me?" I asked horrified. The last time I'd been spanked was... I didn't want to think about it.

"Yes, very much," she responded and for some reason I found myself wanting it too.

"I don't know ma'am," I hedged, for the first time wondering if she'd planned all this out.

"If you agree, Christian, I'll let you see my tits. Would you like that?" she bargained.

"Yes, ma'am," I said immediately. It had been erotic but incredibly frustrating to have touched her moments ago but not been allowed to see. And I really wanted to see her breasts.

"So we have an agreement?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled and softly said, "Turn around and lean over the desk, Christian. Tell me you want me to hit you."

I obediently leaned over the mahogany desk in the center of the room. "I want you to hit me, ma'am." And I did want it.

She pulled a wooden paddle from the desk drawer and showed it to me briefly before moving to stand behind me. She rubbed my ass with the paddle slowly in a circular motion increasing the intensity and anticipation I was feeling. Without warning she whacked my ass with the paddle. I grunted from the pain and she told me to keep quiet. Even clothed, it stung. And it felt so good. I still remember the sting of that first time and how right then I knew this was something I needed. After that first blow Mrs. Lincoln unexpectedly cupped her hand firmly over my erection. I winced from the contact but the sensation was too good to pull away. In between each blow of the paddle she would caress my cock in her hand. I felt the tension building steadily in my groin. After the fourth whack to my behind her thumb grazed over the tip of my erection and I knew I was going to lose my battle of staying silent. She tightened her grip and pumped my cock through my jeans as the fifth and final blow landed on my backside. My forehead slammed against the desk and I cried out from the gratification of my release.

I couldn't move; dazed and disturbed by what had just taken place. She removed her hand and I heard the paddle drop to the floor. Very cautiously I righted myself. Her eyes were blazing with an emotion unrecognizable to me.

"Untie my robe, Christian," she said seductively. I did and a sliver of skin from her neck down to her belly was exposed. "Pull the robe apart so you can see me, Christian," she said sternly. I did it slowly, my heart pounding out of my chest again. She pulled her arms behind her back, to settle my nerves I think, and watched me gawking at her. I just stared, mesmerized by her perfect tits. She seemed to find it amusing. After I don't know how long, she finally said, "Touch them, boy. Feel me."

She moaned loudly when I did and threw her head back. Then, suddenly her hand came forward and she grasped my chin roughly. She kissed me furiously, careful not to let our naked chests touch. She pulled away leaving me breathless and wanting. She closed her robe and said it was time for me to leave. Briefly I wondered what I'd done to upset her but then she explained that her husband would be home soon. She warned me not to tell anyone about what happened between us. She said if I kept quiet then we could see each other again.

"You can come over twice a week after school, do a little yard work or other chores around the house... and then we'll have time to play together. I have so much I want to show you, Christian. I have so many plans to pleasure your body." I remember nodding, unable to speak. She told me again it was time to leave and handed me my t-shirt. I put it on and then left her alone in the library.

I open my eyes and turn my head to read the expression on the doctor's face. Flynn's eyes are wide with shock. I thought shrinks were supposed to have heard everything? Dr. Flynn does look young, maybe a few years older than me, but surely my admissions aren't completely outside his realm of experience. If so, I might end up seeking a third opinion. Who am I kidding? I've lost count of how many professional opinions I've sought.

Dr. Flynn sits up straight in his chair and makes a few notes in his book. I don't like that he has a file with my name on it, filled with personal information about my life, but the irony of that is not lost on me. I have a detailed file at Escala for every woman I've ever fucked.

Flynn clears his throat. "Why is it, do you think, that you so easily embraced Mrs. Lincoln's desire to physically assault you? And moreover found sexual pleasure from it?"

I look at the clock and then at the good doctor and casually say, "Time's up."