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It's Like Trying to Get Blood Out of a Stone
AKA: Take your TPE contract and shove it up your...
The first chapter is based on Dirty Little Secret by SdaisyS.
Pretty much everything else is based on Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James, who owns the characters and original story.
Chapter 1: Dirty Kinky Secret
AKA: Not a virgin
Outside the playroom, I want no rules, no punishment; just compromise. Two equals, two partners; no dominants and submissives, just Ana and Christian.
I closed the book in a huff. I had been studying for way too many hours, on top of the two classes I had attended to earlier that day. My brain was fried. It was Wednesday, so I only had one more day of classes left this week—I had made sure to keep my Fridays school-less, just like I liked them—followed by a week to study and another one of final exams. Twenty-two days left before the graduation ceremony. And only four days left before the termination of my contract with my mysterious Master.
Nobody I was friends with knew I was into BDSM. I'd always been a very introverted person. But behind closed doors, in a dimly lit room and wearing skimpy panties or nothing at all, I allowed myself to let go of whatever it was that held me back in normal social situations. In the playroom, I felt sexy and wanted; I knew I had a killer body. Relinquishing all the power to my Dom set me free. My mind wasn't a very structured place—after all, I hadn't gone into science or numbers, but books—. Yet, all my life I had been a caregiver. I had looked after my mum and couldn't help but take care of my dad even if he didn't actually need it. I loved my independence. I liked working and paying for my stuff, making my own decisions, ruling my life. The problem was, sometimes I worked too hard, tried too much, and when things didn't work out, castigated myself too harshly.
Thus, relinquishing power a few hours every week helped me let go of the stress. Before college, books had been my outlet. But once I became an English student, books became my homework. Don't get me wrong, I still loved to read. I actually enjoyed researching an author's biography to understand where they came from when they wrote what they wrote, what were they trying to say through their novels and stories, what made them decide to make their characters act the way they act or say the things they say.
Being in college meant walking to and from the dorms—with my earphones on, of course—and soon, that little walk became the most relaxing moment of my day. I eventually decided to join the closest gym and slowly but surely, I developed strength and a love for physical activities that didn't require hand-eye coordination or held the possibility of me getting hit by a ball.
Reading some erotica—bordering porno—books in my free time, I discovered BDSM. The idea had intrigued me, and after some research, it had crept me out. Nonetheless, I kept having wet dreams of being tied up spread-eagled to a bed and fucked to my heart's content by some faceless muscular guy. In my sleep, spanking and nipple clamps weren't as scary as in waking hours. More than a year later, a few days after I had turned twenty-one, I found a BDSM club and thought, Why the heck not?
I walked into the club looking like a scared bird. The woman at the entrance convinced me there was nothing to fear—of course she did, she wanted me to pay the one-night entrance fee—for as long as I was wearing my yellow band, nobody would touch me. Naturally, it being my first night, I only wanted to look, to really grasp what BDSM was about.
Less than a month later, I finally wore a pink band, meaning I was a submissive looking for a Dominant, and participated in my first scene. My Master for the night wasn't into hardcore, so he didn't mind my seemingly never-ending list of hard limits. He knew it was my first time as a submissive, and being the patient man that he was, he went slowly with me. Afterwards, I decided to sign a contract to be his sub every weekend for one month. After the four weeks were up, we decided to terminate the contract, for I wanted to keep exploring different possibilities and he wanted a submissive he could be tougher with.
I never knew his name and he never knew mine. The club had a very strict policy regarding privacy, for many important men and women joined the club, mainly as dominants. It didn't really make a difference to me; I didn't know who was who in Vancouver or the surrounding areas.
As time went by, I started to feel more and more confident inside the playroom. I allowed myself to trust the men wouldn't do anything to me I hadn't previously approved of and slowly but surely tested and learnt my limits. By the time April came, I had written a definite list of hard limits. I wouldn't allow anyone to punish me with belts, canes or some other hardcore items—the mere idea made me sick—but regarding sexual acts, I'd do almost everything. I didn't mind the whip as long as it wasn't used as an instrument of punishment, but as one meant for slightly painful pleasure.
Despite my very short list of acceptable punishments—spanking, clamps and ice—it wasn't that difficult to find a Dom. My only other hard limits—apart from the unacceptable punishments and the obvious not playing with fire, blood, knives, needles, animals, pee, poop and whatnot that everyone agreed to—were few: just fisting and suspension. This girl is afraid of heights, I don't care if I'm blindfolded and I can't see shit.
Looking at my discarded book with distaste, I decided to take a much-needed break, stood up and walked towards my closet to put on my gym clothes. Before I could make it to the double wooden doors, though, my burner phone rang, letting me know I had a new message. I knew it must have been from my new Master, for he had given me the phone and he was the only one who had the number. He was the most secretive Master I'd had so far. He had even added on our contract that I was to never ever look at his face. Even though I had signed an NDA—a club's requisite—he wanted to make sure I'd never find out who he was. He must've been someone important, I thought, someone famous. I wouldn't really know, in all honestly; I wasn't one to pay attention to the TV or read newspapers and magazines.
I could still remember the night he had approached me almost a month before.
It's not something I'll ever forget.
I had had my head low, as expected from every submissive. I was only allowed to look up when I was in the adjoined rooms hidden behind a one-way mirror in some of the playrooms—those meant for people to look at—or inside the playroom only if Master requested it. Sitting on a barstool, with my pink band around my wrist, I was expected to bow my head.
It was probably one of the few things about my chosen sex life I despised; inside the bedroom, I loved being dominated and the mystery of what was going to happen next, but outside of it, I knew I was equal to whichever Dom I'd encounter—I was raised to treat the janitor with the same respect as the CEO—and didn't like acting like a submissive person, for I was—still am—not. So, I'd tell myself that whatever happened it the club but outside a playroom was just prelude, foreplay, part of the scene, so it was okay for me to act submissive even if I was anything but in real life.
A white light at the upper right corner of my cellphone was blinking: my phone's way of reminding me I had an unread message.
Are you free? Meet me in 15.
I looked at the time. He had only sent it a minute ago. Hmm... It had been a long time ever since I'd gotten spanked. He had been exceptionally attentive the Sunday before. On Saturday night, right before leaving the club, he had presented me with his usual long-term contract. Normally, my mysterious Dom would only go to the club when he wanted a new submissive, have a one-night trial, and either give them the contract that night or leave to never return to them. With me though, he had decided to have a one-month trial.
Although he had made me sign a contract for obvious reasons, we had yet to meet outside of the club—I knew for a fact he had a playroom at home—. He hadn't really liked my short list of acceptable punishments, and when he had suggested slowly adding items to it, I had strictly refused. I had already given it a shot and had hated it. Not only had it been more painful than what I liked: it had turned me off and I had considered it to be absolutely denigrating. I had joined BDSM to enjoy myself, not to suffer. I wasn't going to let anyone, not even hot, headstrong, spoiled Doms, change my mind.
I huffed at the memory. My latest Master really knew how to make me mad like no one else! I had managed to bite my tongue ninety-five per cent of the time. The other five per cent, his strong palm against my ass cheeks had really turned me on.
That is why I waited five whole minutes before answering with a disrespectful I'm on my way, no Sir of Master added into it like expected.
I put on a black tulle thong and bra with a silver embroidered fishnet and little silver chains to match the mood. Then, I braided my hair. I looked at myself on my floor to ceiling mirror, satisfied with my look. Afterwards, I put on one of my usual gym outfits—my excuse to my roommate as to why I returned in the state that I did when I went to the club—and walked out of my room. Waving Kate goodbye, I left our apartment.
I drove purposely slowly in my new and safe red Audi, a gift from my newest Master.
To make sure that I was safe, he always followed me out of the playroom and all the way to my car, right behind me so I wouldn't see his face. The first time he'd met Wanda, he had freaked out and insisted on getting her replaced. He was clearly as important and rich as I had suspected, for how else could anyone explain him gifting a car to a woman he was probably going to fuck only for a month? I had refused at first, for I like my independence and I'm not a prostitute, but he insisted so vehemently that I finally agreed just to get him off my back. And, in all honesty, fixing my old Beetle was becoming more and more expensive every time. Plus, if he had only known me for a few hours and was already insisting on giving me a car, he was probably strikingly rich and could most definitively afford it. By the next day, I had a brand new car and my friends thought I was the luckiest girl on earth for having won it at a raffle.
Twenty-five minutes after I had received the message, I walked into the club. They had been expecting me, as usual, for they were very efficient, not to mention that my Master was a bit of a control freak and probably one of their best customers. They handed me the key to the playroom 25; they should've given another one to my Dom and would let him know that I was finally here.
I made my way to the playroom without a rush, got in and made sure to lock the door. I hung the key on its proper place by the entrance and undressed. After folding my clothes and leaving them at the assigned chair, I knelt in front of the door wearing only my black and silver panties.
A few minutes later, I heard the door being unlocked. A knot of nerves and excitement made its presence know at the bottom of my belly. I loved this feeling of not knowing what was going to happen soon, only hoping that I'd enjoy it; what with my latest Master, I knew I would.
"I see you're finally here," he pointed out sarcastically, locking the door. "You've been a very bad girl, making me wait. What do you think I should do with you?"
"Punish me, Sir. Please." I had my head low but could see him standing in front of me. His feet were bare, and he was wearing his usual washed-up jeans. In my mind, I pictured them with the zip up but the button undone.
"Punish you, huh?" he asked with his sexy Dom voice, as he started to walk around me. He completed a circle and a half before finally stopping somewhere out of my line of vision. After a few seconds of silence, I heard him walk towards one of the shelves containing toys. He clearly knew what he wanted, for in no time at all he was behind me again, asking me to place my hands behind my back and cuffing them together. By then, my pussy was throbbing, and my panties were soaked.
"Stand up," he ordered and proceeded to help me with the task. After we had established our little arrangement nearly a month ago, it hadn't taken him long to figure out my equilibrium was quite lacking. Once I was standing up, he walked me towards the table and had me bend over it, my forehead pressed against the hard wood. He removed my panties and left my side once again, only to return soon afterwards with rope to tie my feet to the table's legs, forcing my own legs to stay wide open. I bit my lower lip, turned on because of the anticipation.
He slid one finger inside my wet cunt, meeting no resistance. It took me great effort not to whimper.
"Is this all for me?" he asked, gloating.
"Yes, Sir."
"What a good girl. But you still need to be punished, baby. That will be fifteen spanks, one for every extra minute you made me wait for you, plus another five for your disrespectful message. That's twenty in total, Kitty." Because he didn't know my name, he always used pet names with me. I was becoming rather fond of them, although I still didn't know for sure if by Kitty he was calling me a vay-jay-jay or if he had something else in mind. It had better be the latter.
Without giving me a heads up, he shoved a vibrator inside of me and switched it on to its higher power, making me gasp and then moan.
"Shush," he said, tapping my ass. "I want you to count," he ordered.
The first spank took me by surprise, even though I knew it was coming. It didn't sting too badly, although it did leave a familiar tingling sensation behind on my right cheek. The most shocking feeling came from the vibrator, which managed to press my g-spot and make me hipper aware of my throbbing wet pussy. "One," I gasped.
As usual, he gave me the next spank on my left cheek and the third one between my legs, making me moan "two" and "three." Each smack stung a bit more than the one before, but the feeling of pleasure grew exponentially. I was so turned on by the first three spanks that my speech turned unintelligible afterwards, the numbers I screamed impossible to understand. Tears fell from my eyes, not so much for the pain itself, but from the effort it took me not to orgasm. Master wouldn't have been happy if I had.
"Don't come," he reminded me with his Dom's voice—hot, sexy, panty-dropping Dom voice—before removing the vibrator, making me whimper.
He moved around the room for less than a minute and came back. "Lift your head," he demanded once he was right behind me again. I did as asked, keeping my naked chest pressed against the table. He then proceeded to blindfold me carefully, minding my hair.
Once he was sure I couldn't see, he returned his hands to my aching kitty. After flicking my engorged clit once, he spread my wetness all the way to my ass. Then, he rubbed something small against the inside of my lower lips before pushing it inside my ass: a butt plug. I hissed in pleasure.
"Do you want to come, Kitty?"
"Please, Master," I mewed.
He kneeled behind me and untied me. "Come with me, then," he ordered. He grabbed my arm and guided me towards the bed. He removed the leather cuff from my right wrist and told me to lie down on my back, with my arms stretched out above my head. Then, he proceeded to pass the leather cuff still tied to my left wrist behind one of the iron posts of the headboard and reattached my right hand. He dragged my body towards the end of the bed so that my arms were as stretched out as possible. "Yellow," I said when my arms started to ache, and he let go of me.
"Are you okay like this, or do your arms hurt?"
"I'm perfectly fine, Master," I reassured him.
Satisfied, he made his way towards my legs and coaxed them open with his hands. Oh, how I loved it when he did that! Then, he cuffed my right ankle; to what, I couldn't tell. Once he repeated the process with my left ankle, I was almost positive it was a spreader bar. Definitely my favourite toy! Suddenly, I heard a click and my legs spread open, giving him complete access to my waxed cunt and confirming my suspicion.
The rest of the evening was very pleasurable. He made me come with his mouth, his hands, a vibrator and finally his cock. My legs felt like jelly by the time he was done with me.
"See how good we are together. If you sign my contract, fully give yourself to me, it will be so much better," he told me. I was lying on my stomach on the mattress, untied but with the blindfold still on. He was massaging my sore legs, as was my usual aftercare.
"I won't," I told him, trying to hold back my anger, but cutting the whole 'yes, Master' act. I was a lovely sub on the bed. If we were going to have a conversation, though, he was going to have to meet independent, self-sufficient Ana. I lifted my torso and supported my weight in my forearms to make my presence known and silently convey my change in demeanour. "For one, I'm graduating soon and leaving Portland. There's also the fact that, as I have told you before, I'm not signing a TPA contract!" So much for not letting my anger show.
"Whoa, tiger. Watch that attitude," he scolded me, smacking my thigh. "The only reason I'm not taking you over my knee right now is that it's late and you need to go back home. Just think about it."
"I already have; a long time ago I decided this is as far as I'm willing to go. 24/7? Not a chance. Now let me go home please, Master," I said, the sarcasm barely held at bay. I was sure he heard it; he seemed to be good at reading people. He let it pass, though, probably trying to get into my good graces again.
Tough luck, buddy.
Two days later, on Friday morning, I woke up feeling like crap. I was one of those people who became utterly useless when sick. My headaches were outstanding; every noise felt like torture and if I tried watching TV, during the commercials I couldn't even recall what programme I had been watching!
Once Kate came back from her morning classes, we had a light lunch and then I let her drag me—I mean drive me—to the hospital, where the doctor diagnosed me with tonsillitis and gave me antibiotics. Once home, I put on my comfy pyjamas and texted my Dom to let him know I was sick and wouldn't be able to make it that evening—nor the rest of the weekend, probably.
The next morning, I wasn't doing much better than the day before. My whole body felt heavy and sex was most definitively out of the question—especially kinky, deviant sex—. This time around, I decided to call my Dom and let him know that I was sorry I wasn't going to be able to join him on our last contractual weekend. At first, he sounded sceptical, but it didn't take him long to realise that I was indeed sick and not faking it. Once he was sure that I was going to be okay and wishing me a fast recovery, we said goodbye for what we both believed to be the last time.
By the time Sunday came, I was feeling better but not completely recovered. Based on past experiences, I knew I wasn't going to be okay until day number four: Monday. Good thing I was fully healed by then because I managed to pass on my illness to Kate, who, by the way, was supposed to interview some tycoon that afternoon. Being the good roommate that I was, I didn't complain much when she asked me to conduct the interview for her.
That is why I found myself driving to Seattle to meet GEH's CEO, Christian Grey, without knowing one measly detail about him. What kind of smart and insightful interview would he be able to give me if I knew nothing about the man? Kate insisted I would be okay. I seriously doubted it; the man could have hardly built his—according to Kate—huge empire by being a warm-hearted, patient person. He'd notice my lack of previous knowledge and kick me where the sun doesn't shine.
I finally made it to Grey House with some minutes to spare. The place was a palace of glass and steel, thirty stories high and with the name of his founder and Chief Executive Officer perched above its huge doors. The inside was as modern and cynical as the outside, although it also offered a bunch of neatly dressed blonde employees. Good thing I was wearing some of my smartest clothes: a simple light grey dress with mid-length sleeves and mesh near the bottom.
The receptionist that assisted me was efficient and in no time at all I was inside the elevator, making my way to the big boss' office. Yet another blonde chick welcomed me at the reception of the highest storey. After no more than two minutes of waiting, one of Mr Grey's blondes told me to walk right into his office.
The man that was waiting on the other side of the door, standing by the glass wall, was the opposite of what I had expected. Instead of a balding old man with a tiny peen complex, before me stood a handsome man in his twenties, with bronze hair and penetrating grey eyes that made my insides quiver and my panties threaten to fall.
"Miss Steele? A pleasure to meet you," he said, walking towards me before extending his right hand in greeting. I stood where I was, gaping at him. I knew that voice. I knew those fingers. Holy fucking shit! I was ninety-five per cent positive Mr Grey was my latest Master!
"Ma—Mr Grey," I stuttered.
"I hear Ms Kavanagh is indisposed," he said, smirking at my discomfort. Did he know who I was? Surely he did. I may have never seen him, but he certainly knew how my body looked like better than I did myself. Plus, he had seen my face before, albeit not my eyes.
Not only did the bastard look completely unaffected by having his old sexual partner standing in front of him, but he was rejoicing at my awkwardness. I stood taller, with my back straight and a defiant look on my face.
"That she is, sir. It seems I passed on to her my case of tonsillitis," I answered in a no-nonsense voice, reminding him I wasn't his sub anymore, especially not outside the club.
"Oh. I hope you are feeling better." He was standing too close; I could feel the heat emanating from his body.
"I woke up feeling brand new this morning," I replayed, feigning nonchalance. He was way, way too close.
"I'm glad to hear that, Kitty," he whispered in my ear.
Damn him! He knew how that turned me on. I had to bite my lip to suppress a whimper.
"Shall we?" he asked, motioning toward the white couches. I sighed in relief as he walked away from me.
Sadly—or not—I had to follow him, but I made sure to sit as far away from him as possible. The thing between him and me, it was over. Sure, the sexual tension was palpable, and he could play my body like the strings of a guitar custom made for him. Yet, I would not relent and give myself to him completely, 24/7, but he was too stubborn to get it through his thick skull.
Now, Ana, don't get mad at the man before time. He hasn't done anything wrong today. Except for the smirking thing, that is.
"Do you mind if I record this?" I asked, taking the recorder out of my bag before waiting for his permission. He frowned. That's right, Mr Grey. I'm not one of your typical subs. He gestured me to go ahead, nonetheless.
I set the mini-disk recorder on the coffee table carefully. Then, I took the list of questions from Kate, a small notebook and a pencil. I cleared my throat before beginning.
"You're very young to have amassed such an empire, Mr Grey. To what do you owe your success?" I asked, trying to sound as professional as possible, even though my insides were a mess: my subconscious was about to have a panic attack and my inner goddess was picturing herself giving Mr Grey a lap dance!
The look he gave me clearly showed he was not impressed. I wondered if Professor McGonagall would have looked at the Marauders like that if she wasn't a fictional character. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that question. That's not very original."
"Maybe I'll be able to get some unprecedented answers out of you," I answered coquettishly before remembering this was being recorded and would be heard by Kate later. I blushed and looked at the gadget sitting on the table horrified, making Master—I mean Christian Grey—snicker silently. I glared at him.
He finally answered, giving me a little speech about how good he was at reading people and how awesome his gut instinct was. I thought he sounded a bit like a—flirty—spoiled brat, which I wouldn't be surprised if he was, seeing as how he was the big boss and a Dom: if the answer wasn't 'Right away, sir,' then it was 'Yes, Master.'
I refrained myself from replying, though, and opted to go for the next question. "Do you have any interests outside of work?" Damn. I felt myself blush. Next time I'd be sure to read the question to myself before reading it out loud. The bastard smirked at me once again. I raised my eyebrows at him, but I was sure my pink cheeks completely ruined my intended challenging expression.
"I have varied interests, Miss Steele. Very varied." He was clearly going to make me work for the answer.
"But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?"
"Chill out?" he asked, amused at my phrasing. "I fly, sail and indulge myself in other... physical pursuits," he told me, undressing me with his eyes. My mind flew back to my memories of those physical pursuits. I could feel my blush spread under my dress. His eyes trailed down my neck to my breasts, making my nipples as hard as pebbles. I bit my lips and rubbed my thighs together, making him smirk. Egocentric bastard. I looked pointedly at the now noticeable bulge in his pants, reminding him that I wasn't the only one affected by the other's presence.
I skimmed through the next question before reading it out loud. "You invest in manufacturing. Why specifically?"
"I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I also have a love of ships. What can I say?" he looked and sounded like a little kid. I couldn't help it but smile at him.
"That sounds like your heart talking rather than facts." His eyes hardened.
"Possibly. Though there are people who'd say I don't have a heart."
"Why would they say that?" I asked, jumping at his defence. Sure, the guy liked to spank me and wished he was able to give me even rougher punishments, but he always gave me aftercare and was obviously concerned about my wellbeing. The car he had given me and his overbearing contract—stating that his subs needed to eat and sleep properly—proved it.
"Because they know me well," he answered with a wry smile. I could hear the tension in his voice. I wished I could refute his answer; he was clearly upset, although he hid it well. After a month of depending mostly on my ear around him, I could gauge his mood. Sadly, that's the only thing that I knew about him as a person and not a sexual partner, so I couldn't honestly disprove his answer.
"You also invest in farming technologies," I hurried through the words as to move on quickly to the next question. "Why are you interested in this area?"
"We can't eat money Miss Steele, and there are too many people on this planet who don't have enough to eat."
"That sounds like the heart talking once again," I smirked, happy to contradict him, partly because he was clearly upset after his 'no heart' little speech, and partly because I loved being able to disagree with him so openly without fearing a spanking as retribution. He frowned at me and just to spite him I wrote down in my notebook that he hadn't liked my answer.
"Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?" I moved on.
He quoted Carnegie to me: "The man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled."
"So you like to possess things?" I asked with an ironic smile and looked pointedly at the recorder to silently remind him of its presence.
"I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."
Of course you do. You won't be able to possess me, though.
I looked at him, challenge written all over my face. He smirked, clearly believing that he would win in our battle of wills.
I looked at the next question. It was about his adoption. I didn't feel comfortable asking it out loud. Screw Kate. I knew she wouldn't like me skipping it, but I didn't want to get him in a bad mood. I knew the answer to his question anyway: he wouldn't be the person that he was now if he hadn't been adopted by the Greys. Who knows what I would be like if Ray hadn't adopted me? The mere thought made me sad, which only reinforced my idea of keeping the question to myself.
Next, then: "You've had... Did you have to sacrifice your family for work?"
"I have a family," he answered tersely. "I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that."
I read the next question to myself and started laughing hysterically.
"What is it?" he asked, both annoyed and amused. I reached out to stop the recording disk.
"My roommate would like to know whether you are gay," I answered, giggling.
"I think you know the answer to that question, Kitty," he told me. The tone of his voice and the darkness of his pupils, dilated with want, made me stop laughing immediately. He reached out to free my lip from my teeth; I hadn't even realised I had been chewing on it.
"Don't bite your lip, Anastasia. You know what it does to me," he told me, his voice rough. His tongue caressed my name. I looked into his grey eyes, hypnotised.
He leant down to brush his lips against mine once, before pulling back. He looked into my eyes and clearly liked whatever he saw because he kissed me once again. This time, though, the kiss was passionate and hot. His tongue tried to dominate mine, but for the first time ever I fought back, trying to control the kiss. The battle seemed to excite him; who would have thought? The controlling Dom liked some resistance.
We finally pulled back for air, but he kept kissing me along my jaw and neck. His hands were still grabbing my head and my hands were on his hair. I suddenly realised what we were doing and pushed his face away from mine.
"Stop," I told him. We weren't compatible, and we knew it. Sure, our bodies could do fantastic things when together, but both of us wanted completely different things.
He pulled away. "What is it?" he asked frustrated.
"You know what we had is over. Stop pushing it. I refuse to give you what you want from me."
"Go out with me to dinner tomorrow night."
"Are you even listening to me?" I screeched. He looked taken aback by my less than complying attitude.
"We need to sit down and talk. Let me explain to you what it would consist of if you signed the contract."
I already knew what it would consist of!
The contract I had signed a month ago stated that I would call my dominant 'Sir' and 'Master,' do as told when in the playroom, never ever look at his face, don't take another dominant during the lasting of our agreement, and keep myself waxed or shaved. It also listed our hard limits and my acceptable punishing methods.
The contract that he wanted me to sign fell into the Total Power Exchange type; even when I wasn't with him, I was expected to eat, sleep and exercise as much as he stipulated. I wouldn't be allowed to drink as much as I wanted—not that I was a fan of alcohol, but still! —have as many junk foods as I desired, touch myself wherever and whenever I pleased or even suffer from one of my rare cases of insomnia!
"You don't need to explain anything to me. You'll be happy to find I can actually read." He glared at me; he clearly didn't like my attitude one bit. Well, too bad; I didn't like his either. I was starting to think we weren't meant to be face to face with clothes on. "I've already gone through the contract, and I don't like it one bit. I'm my own person, and that's not going to change. Just because I like being tied up and controlled in the bedroom doesn't mean I like being bossed around 24/7!" He looked completely taken aback, his expression rapidly changing from mad and annoyed to surprised. I would have found it hilarious if I wasn't so mad at him. "I'm my own independent person. I'm very self-sufficient. I'm not going to let you change who I am."
He just sat there, looking at me wide-eyed. I didn't think anyone had ever talked to him like that before.
"See you at graduation, Christian. I can walk myself out." Me calling his name seemed to snap him out of it.
"Wait, Anastasia. Just dinner. I promise I'll behave." He gave me a charming smile that made my knees weak. He must have realised I was losing my resolve because he said, "I just want to discuss things. You know communication is important in the lifestyle that you and I enjoy. Let us sit down to talk like adults."
"Like equal adults or you won't know what hit you," I answered with an angry stare.
"I'll pick you up Friday night at eight. Text me your address," he said, walking me towards the door. He then proceeded to accompany me to the elevator, much to the surprise of the blondes sitting behind their desk. He pressed the button to call for the elevator and we waited in silence.
It arrived at our floor in a matter of seconds. I walked in and pressed the button to the ground floor before turning around.
"Anastasia," he nodded goodbye.
"Christian," I answered, just as the doors closed.
READ ME: Hello everyone and welcome to a new story. Please note this is going to be 74% fluff, 24% smut and only 2% drama. Good news is that it's already complete. I have 30 chapters on my computer, and I'm working on the epilogue. I plan to post a new chapter roughly every couple of days.
My mother tongue isn't English and I don't have a beta reader, so I appreciate any constructive criticism you may have.
You can find the Pinterest board of this story in justvalepff/its-like-trying-to-get-blood-out-of-a-stone/ or under the user JustValeP Fanfiction.
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