Trying something new here. Ana is still a final-year at WSU, but she has a secret hobby. How will she feel when her fantasy man turns out to be a very real Dominant? She is a more confident person, and not quite so naieve.
Wattle - you rock!
"What the Hell do you think you are doing?"
My eyes fly open and my Master is standing over me, grey eyes blazing, his tall frame casting a long shadow over my bed in the late afternoon sun. I have been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Literally and figuratively.
With a single yank he pulls off the thin patchwork bedspread. My naked body is completely exposed. I drop my hands to my side, but its too late for that. My left hand was playing with my nipple, my right hand was well on its way to bringing me to a delicious pre-dinner climax.
I turn my head in embarrassment as he grabs my hand. Tracing the wetness with his thumb I know he is studying it. He will know how long I have been up here, having a little solo fun.
"Anastasia Rose Steele, I demand an answer!" I swallow. He has used my full name. This is not going to end well.
"I'm sorry, Master, I did not think you would be home so early."
"Really?" His eyebrow arches. "And are you in the habit of disobeying my explicit instructions?" I wince as he squeezes my wrist.
I try to control my breathing. "No, Master, I am not in the habit of disobeying explicit instructions." Better to repeat exactly what he says. I am not in the habit of being disrespectful to my Master.
He curls his finger against the silver collar that has been locked around my neck for one year, eight months and three days. "Have you forgotten what this represents?"
"No Master, I have not." I try to sound suitably chastised. I'm sorry I got caught, and I'm going to be really sorry later this evening. I am submissive to my Master, and today I let my own poor choices and arousal get the better of me.
He plunges two fingers deep inside me, thrusting in with each word. "This. Is. Mine. Do. You. Understand?" He knows what he is doing; each penetration is bringing me closer to my release. I gasp, knowing I am nearly at the point of no return. He withdraws his fingers just as suddenly. He opens the drawer on my bedside cabinet. "I refuse to have a sub who acts like a brat."
He taps my lips. "Open". I do as I'm told. He places a riding crop between my teeth and turns on his heel. 'Playroom. Now.'
I know I am in trouble, as I get out of bed as gracefully as I can. I link my hands behind my back, lower my head and follow my Master to my punishment.
'Ana! Aaaannnaa!' I slam my laptop shut. 'What are you doing in there?'
'Nothing special, Kate.' My voice is unnaturally high. 'Just revising, you know. Finals are soon.' There she is, all long limbs and blond hair, grinning at me like a Cheshire cat. She is dressed to impress this evening, in a short dress from Nordstrom showing off her svelte figure, teamed with a pair of Celine heels that make her legs appear even longer than they are.
"You study too hard, Ana. Save it for grad school."
I give a light laugh. Grad school indeed. I do feel bad lying to her. She's my best friend and room-mate. But this is my secret, my guilty little secret. I'm Anastasia Steele, but my friends call me Ana. I'm 21 years old, in my final semester as an English Literature major in WSU, I'm a bit clumsy, quiet, shy, reserved, and, oh, I like to write erotica. I love to write erotica. It's not for anyone but me, and it only features me and my nameless, totally imaginary, Master. I know exactly what he looks like; grey eyes, slightly curling hair, a little older than me with a hot body and a firm hand ... but I digress. I have had a couple of dates, but there has never been anybody special in my life. Look around my room; I prefer to be surrounded by books than people. The paper kind are my worthy classics, what everybody expects Ana Steele to read, but my e-reader – well, that's another library altogether!
"Earth to Ana, come in Ana!" Kate is waving her hand in front of my face.
"Sorry, Kate, was off in my own world again.'"
"You spend too much time with your heroes and heroines of ye-olde-times, come out with Jose and I tonight." I shake my head and point to my books 'Plllleeease? You could do with letting your hair down."
"Not tonight Kate. Definitely after finals, I promise. I want to study." As if. I could sit my exams now and not break a sweat. She comes over and gives me a quick hug, and I'm almost suffocated in Mademoiselle CoCo, but hey, what a way to go. 'Don't forget to wear a coat, you'll catch your death in that dress.'
She tuts loudly. 'I'm fine, Mommy!' The door opens, and closes with a soft snick. I'm on my own again. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was on my way to the playroom...
The gentle knocking at my door becomes a little louder, the voice changing from a hoarse whisper to a snot-filled wail. "Come on in, Kate." In shuffles my supermodel room-mate, not quite a supermodel at the moment in pink bunny jammies and purple spotted slipper-socks.
"I'm siiiiick" she pouts, and blows her nose, the trumpeting reverberating around my small room. "Ana, please would you do my interview today? I can't meet the famous Christian Grey looking like this." As if to prove her point she comes closer and peers into my face. "Please? I left all my things ready last night." She has been talking about this interview for the past week, and now she's losing her big moment. I can't say no, but she isn't so sick that I can't give her a gentle reprimand.
"Last night, before you left without a coat" She nods, suitably chastised. I pull myself up, swing my little short legs out of the bed and shoo her away. "You owe me Kavanagh." I love Kate dearly, but interviewing some faceless CEO is not how I planned to spend my day. I start to rootle through my wardrobe for something that looks CEO-worthy. Clothes don't really interest me, in my own stories I'm nearly always naked anyway, and if I'm dressed it's in designer gear from Neimanns. I can't afford it real life, so why torture myself? I finally find a skirt from Old Navy and a blue sweater from Banana Republic, that I got in the sale last fall. This will do.
Kate shuffles out again, doing the best impression of a 5' 8" Yoda that I've ever seen, and returns with her cute little black patent Cambridge satchel. "There's my questions, my note book, my lucky pencil, and, in case you need it, my voice recorder." She hands me the keys to her Mercedes. "You may as well get there in once piece, Ana." I give a loud humph. Everybody complains about my little VW Bug, Wanda. She might be held together with rust and prayers, but she's mine, and she's got character. I'll save the flashy German engineering for my stories; my humble little Teutonic beetle will take me through for another few years.
In Kate's slick car the miles just whizz by on the interstate. I don't like taking Wanda on the interstate, but I prefer using the highways anyway. There is a whole country out there to see, and it passes us by when we hop on I5. The GPS leads me to GEH, a monument to glass, concrete and steel. I snigger to myself at the idea of it being a monument to me, Ana Steele. Modern architecture never really appeals to me, but this building is amazing; it manages to be sleek, and new, yet fits in with its surroundings. I bet Mr Christian Grey is some middle-aged man high in his ivory tower with a comb-over and a paunch from over eating.
I manage to enter through the smoked glass doors without bashing my nose. That's an achievement in itself. A shiny stepford-style blond looks up from her desk.
"Can I help you Madam?" Madam, holy crap, I'm 21 and she's addressing me as if I were 41. Actually when I'm 41 I don't want to be called Madam either.
"Uhm, yes, I'm Ana Steele, I'm here to see Christian Grey, I mean, Mr Christian, no, Mr Grey." Why on earth does a well-cut blonde bob and MaxMara suit make me so nervous? I am out of my depth here. Deep breaths, Ana, you can do this.
"Second elevator on the left, press the grey button. You will exit on the 20th floor" Of course. If my stomach wasn't already in knots, the speed of the elevator whisking me to meet the elusive Mr Christian Grey. I would have looked in the satchel if I had time, but I didn't even to get to the second buckle before the doors slid open and another blonde, identical to the other one looked up at me.
"Miss Steele." She sounds so efficient. I manage a nod and a 'yes'. "Let me take your coat. Have a seat. Mr Grey will be with you soon." She is polite, but not friendly. What did I expect, this isn't Claytons, the little hardware store where I work part time. My mind drifts off as I think of all the different things on sale in Claytons that have featured in my stories with my Master. Hummmmm.
"Miss Steele, Mr Grey will see you now. Please just enter." I look up to see a tall, attractive man leave from an office to the right. I stand up, smooth down my skirt and walk towards the door, willing myself to take these five steps without falling over myself. I get to the door, and don't ask me how, I trip over my own two left feet! I fall into the office, and in my mortification I am aware of someone holding my arm and helping me to my feet. I look up into those silver-grey eyes.
No. my . god. It was all in my imagination before this, but I have just seen my Master made man.