a/n: Just a little oneshot I came up with.

It should be said...I do not own the characters in this story-E.L. James does. I'm just playing with them...though not as much as they're playing with each other. ;)

I just want to warn you...this story is quite graphic. Please read at your own risk.

Anastasia Steele closed her text book with a yawn. If she'd been doing what she should have been doing last night, she wouldn't have had to spend so much time studying today. But she'd been naugthy; instead of occupying a place at study group, she'd occupied her Economics professor's bed well into the morning. Well, maybe not his bed exactly, but she'd been well used by him. She made her way awkwardly to her feet, stretched with a groan, and grinned at the thought. Her muscles still ached, but oh, it had been worth it.

A quick look at her watch told her she'd have to hop into the shower now if she wanted to make her class—his class—tonight. She'd taken her first step toward the bathroom when the cell phone he'd given her rang. She turned back around and quickly grabbed the phone off the coffee table. If she didn't answer before the second ring, there would be a delicious kind of hell to pay. Still…she didn't want to appear inadequate before him. "Sir?" she answered.

"Did you wash the shirt you wore home this morning?" he asked, bypassing a hello altogether.

"No, Sir, I didn't," she told him.

"Excellent," he commended her. "I want you to wear it to class tonight," he instructed her.

"Sir?" she squeaked.

"No bra, no panties. Just the shirt," he went on.

Ana's heart raced in her chest. His gray, button-up shirt that she'd worn home this morning barely covered her ass cheeks!

"I want your hair in pig tails, Anastasia, and I want your face clean except for mascara—not the waterproof kind; I want the kind that will run—and the lipstick I gave you last night. Reapply it every thirty minutes during class," he commanded.

Anastasia's mind raced as she took in his words.

"And Anastasia?" he said.

"Yes, Sir?" she asked shrilly.

"Make sure you arrive ten minutes late. I want everyone to be seated so I can watch you walk to your desk."

He hung up, and Ana's mind went into overdrive. He wanted her to what? Oh, God. Maybe this was a good time to pull out her 'safe word.' "I don't think so," she muttered to herself. Hadn't she just been thinking about how she could please him?

Ana made her way to her bedroom and reached for the light gray shirt that was on the top of her dirty laundry pile. It had been in a crumpled heap, and she didn't even have time to iron it! She held it up and inspected it—oh, God! There were dark spots on the back of it down near the hem. She had a quick vision of herself on all fours as Christian pounded into her, the shirt beneath her knees. He hadn't used a condom, and had pulled out just before he'd exploded—all over the shirt, apparently.

Ana groaned. She could not walk into that classroom in front of her fellow students wearing his come stained shirt! She couldn't!

Ana sat down on her bed and closed her eyes. The punishment for what she was about to do was going to be severe, for sure. Ana only hoped she could handle it.

Christian Grey glanced at the door with feigned disinterest as it opened, never losing momentum with his lecture. His jaw, however, began to tick when Anastasia entered the classroom covered in a cobalt blue trench coat; she'd purposefully defied him.

He barely glanced her way as she walked briskly to her desk and sat down before untying the belt and pulling it down off her shoulders. A few minutes later, though, with his class working diligently on the problem he'd challenged them with, he turned his stare on her. Her nipples strained against the gray fabric of his shirt in response, and her breathing hitched under his scrutiny. She lifted her hesitant gaze to him, and he felt his cock twitch. Her blue eyes—normally so crystal clear—were a blend of fear and anticipation.

He wondered briefly if she'd purposefully disobeyed him. Did she want to be punished? He casually lifted a hand to his shirt and ran a finger over one of his buttons—to everyone else in the classroom it would mean nothing. Anastasia's cheeks, however, began to blaze as she reached for the third button and slid it through the small opening. A lavish view of the curve of her breasts was his reward.

Christian returned his attention to the rest of the classroom and resumed his lecture.

Two things seemed to happen at once for Ana: Class seemed to drag on and on, yet it was over before she knew it. She watched as the last person left the classroom, her hands folded meekly in her lap.

She'd had no idea what she was signing up for when she'd decided to take a night class. She thought she was simply learning a lesson on economics. She had no idea she was walking into a hungry lion's den—or that she'd be so desperate to be his prey.

She fixed her gaze on the top of Christian's head—he was going over the papers that had been turned in at the end of class—and sighed longingly. He was going to punish her; she knew it. She just wasn't sure how. More importantly, she didn't know how long it would be before he'd let her come.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat; the steady seeping between her thighs was tickling her. A quick glance at the clock told her it had been just a few minutes, so she looked down at her hands and waited.

"The door, Ms. Steele."

Ana looked up in surprise when he spoke exactly thirty minutes later, and then swiftly vacated her chair to lock the door. A loud click echoed in the silence of the room, and Ana turned slowly around. Her gaze met his, and his eyes were blazing.

"In front of me," he barked.

She walked quickly over to where he was sitting and lifted her leg over his thighs, perching herself precariously on the edge of his desk.

"Spread your legs."

Ana did as he'd told her to do, and her breath caught as he shoved her shirt up over her thighs, seemingly checking for panties. Once satisfied, he pulled the fabric back down and met her gaze. "Who told you that you could wear the trench coat?" he asked crossly.

Instead of answering, Ana cleared her throat.

"I asked you a question, Anastasia," he said in a low voice.

"I didn't…I didn't want people to know—"

"Are you ashamed of belonging to me?" he interrupted heatedly.

"Of course not!" she cried.

He grabbed her face between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed hard; Ana winced. "Lower. Your. Voice," he ordered through gritted teeth, and Ana's mouth immediately snapped shut. "And address me properly."

She took a deep breath. "Of course not, Sir," she repeated in a whisper.

He stood so abruptly that she had to grab the desk to keep from falling forward.

He circled her, his eyes examining every inch. "Is this what you visualized when I told you I wanted pig tails?" he asked.

Ana bit her lower lip, her gaze downcast as she shook her head back and forth.

"I can't hear you," he barked.

"No, Sir," she said.

He grabbed the base of the pig tail that was just beneath her ear and parted it into two sections, giving it a hard yank as he moved it further up on her head, then stalked over and did the same thing to the other one.

He returned to his place in front of her and studied her for a moment before snapping his briefcase open. There was a small clanging noise, and Ana's breath stopped when he pulled out a thick, silver beaded chain with clamps on either end. He reached for one of the clamps and opened it, then fastened it to her taut nipple. She hissed as the clamp snapped shut; the fabric of his shirt did nothing to hinder the sting. Another hiss coupled with a heated flash between her thighs ensued when he secured the other one. Once he let go, her breasts were dragged down from the weight of the chain and she cried out.

He paid her no notice as he reached into his briefcase once again, this time pulling out a ruler. Ana's eyes widened at the sight of the wooden instrument. He looked at her once again and slapped the ruler against his open palm. His head tilted to the side, his gaze considering. "Roll over onto your belly, Anastasia."

She immediately did as she was told until she was resting on her belly, her legs straight out behind her with the tiptoes of her shoes barely touching the floor.

"Reach forward until you're gripping the edge of the desk," he continued.

Ana tried once, but it took a few attempts. The desk was wide, and she had to get some momentum behind her movement before she was able to stretch enough to grasp it. His footsteps resonated as he walked around the desk, stopping to stand in front of her. Her eyes were glued to the ruler in his hand as he very slowly, very deliberately leaned forward and placed it beside her head. He reached for his neck and loosened his tie, then pulled it off over his head. His capable fingers untied the knot, and everything went dark as he positioned the thickest part of the garment over her eyes and tied at the back of her head.

She jumped when he reached for the ruler again. "Count with me, Ana," he said in a harsh tone. "Three. The number of seconds you were late."

"Three," she repeated raggedly.

"Two. The number of arms covered by that hideous trench coat."

"Five," she said in a small voice.

"Two. The number of times I'm going to come before you even think about it."

"Seven," she calculated breathlessly, her heart soaring at that bit of information. He was going to let her climax!

The room went silent except for his footsteps as he walked around the desk again to stand behind her. Hands grasped her ankles, moving upward until they reached her knees. Christian stepped forward, pushing her legs so far apart that she was almost doing a split; both of her feet were resting on the desk now.

"Count with me, Ana," he repeated as the ruler he'd been holding landed hard on her ass.

"One!" she cried in anguish.

His ran his hand gently over her stinging flesh before bringing the ruler down again.

"Two!" she cried again in a strangled voice.

He continued until she'd counted to seven, and then there was a clatter as she imagined the ruler falling to the floor. His hand grasped the hem of the shirt, and he pulled her backwards on the desk until he'd buried himself inside of her. Ana groaned as he filled her; her fingertips strained to hold onto the edge of the desk. His hands clutched her thighs as he pounded into her, and Ana grunted with each thrust. Her cheek rubbed against the hard wood of the desk; the metal from the clamps dug into her skin as her body pulsed back and forth with the tempo he'd set. She felt her body tighten.

"Christian—" She breathed.

"No," he said firmly.

Ana gritted her teeth to keep from coming; she was so overwhelmed that tears began to spill from her eyes. She sobbed with need, only to cry out in desperation when he pulled out of her.

There was more echoing footsteps as he rounded the desk, and Ana looked blindly forward. "Keep your tongue on the bottom of your mouth and open it," he directed.

Ana opened her mouth, and he thrust his cock inside; her entire body shook with the need to taste him, to suck him. "Please," she begged, though with him inside of her mouth it escaped as a whimper.

"Suck," he ordered.

She immediately closed her lips around him, her hand instinctively lifted to hold him. Before she could touch him, the ruler landed hard on her knuckles and she cried out.

"Hands on the desk," he reminded her harshly; she was quick to comply.

She made a seal around him and sucked as hard as she could as he rocked his hips back and forth. Her head jerked as he gave the tie a swift pull, and she could finally see again. She looked up at him as she sucked, and he grabbed her head, jerking it forward. He reached down with his free hand and ran his thumb under her eye. When he pulled it away, it was smudged with the mascara he'd insisted she wear.

His hips jolted forward once more before he exploded in her mouth, and Ana swallowed as quickly as she could, never stopping until he was finished spurting.

When he pulled out of her mouth, Ana turned her head and rested her cheek on the desk once more, gasping for air.

She thought she was going to get a reprieve, but she should have known better. He moved until he was standing between her legs again, roughly plunging two fingers inside of her. His fingertips were facing downward, and he grazed her inner wall as he pulled them back. She was so overwhelmed with the need to come that she couldn't bring herself to fuck his fingers; instead she rolled her hips in slow circles while he toyed with her.

"Please," she implored.

"Not yet," he said gruffly as he pulled his fingers from her and drove his cock inside of her.

"One!" she cried to remind herself. The number of times he had to come before she finally could! Ana took a deep breath as he moved in and out of her, and then she gritted her teeth and clamped her body around his as hard as she could. She heard him grunt as he pushed inside of her again. His hands clutched her hips, squeezing as she felt his warmth inside of her.

"Now, Anastasia," he rasped.

Ana panted for breath, and her entire body went rigid as her orgasm finally claimed her.

Several minutes later, Ana still lay there on the desk struggling for air. She flinched when Christian's hand came to gently rest on the spot where he'd struck her. "It's time to go, Anastasia," he told her.

She used all of her energy to pull her legs together and stand, then turned around to face him. She quirked a brow at him, and he smirked as he tugged on the clamps until they let go of her nipples. She hissed in pain and winced as she imagined the bruises they were going to leave behind.

"Red fuck me heels with matching lipstick," he said in a tone of voice that sounded like he was dismissing her.

"Wha..what?" she asked.

"That's what I want you wearing when I get home," he barked.

"I…" She snapped her mouth shut and gathered her courage. "I have a test tomorrow," she informed him.

He lifted his eyes to hers and waited.

"Red fuck me heels and matching lipstick," she agreed. Legs still quaking, she gathered her trench coat and made her way out of the classroom.