Fifty Shades of Grey (Fifty Shades 1)

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Stay here, don't move." He leaves the room.

I'm on my knees, waiting. Where's he goneWhat is he going to do to meTime shifts. I have no idea how long he leaves me like this... a few minutes, five, tenMy breathing becomes shallower, the anticipation is devouring me from the inside out.

And suddenly he's back - and all at once I'm calmer and more excited in the same breath. Could I be more excited I can see his feet. He's changed his jeans. These are older, ripped, soft, and over-washed. Holy cow. These jeans are hot. He shuts the door and hangs something on the back.

"Good girl, Anastasia. You look lovely like that. Well done. Stand up."

I stand, but I keep my face down.

"You may look at me."

I peek up at him, and he's staring at me intently, assessing, but his eyes soften. He's taken off his shirt. Oh my... I want to touch him. The top button of his jeans is undone.

"I'm going to chain you now, Anastasia. Give me your right hand."

I give him my hand. He turns it palm up, and before I know it, he swats the center with a riding crop I hadn't noticed is in his right hand. It happens so quickly that the surprise hardly registers. Even more astonishing - it doesn't hurt. Well, not much, just a slight ringing sting.

"How does that feel?" he asks.

I blink at him, confused.

"Answer me."

"Okay." I frown.

"Don't frown."

I blink and try for impassive. I succeed.

"Did that hurt?"

"No."

"This is not going to hurt. Do you understand?"

"Yes." My voice is uncertain. Is it really not going to hurt?

"I mean it," he says.

Jeez, my breathing is so shallow. Does he know what I'm thinkingHe shows me the crop. It's brown plaited leather. My eyes jerk up to meet his, and they're alight with fire and a trace of amusement.

"We aim to please, Miss Steele," he murmurs. "Come." He takes my elbow and moves me to beneath the grid. He reaches up and takes down some shackles with black leather cuffs."This grid is designed so the shackles move across the grid."

I glance up. Holy shit - it's like a subway map.

"We're going to start here, but I want to f**k you standing up. So we'll end up by the wall over there." He points with the riding crop to where the large wooden X is on the wall.

"Put your hands above your head."

I oblige immediately, feeling like I'm exiting my body - a casual observer of events as they unfold around me. This is beyond fascinating, beyond erotic. It's singularly the most exciting and scary thing I've ever done. I'm entrusting myself to a beautiful man who, by his own admission, is fifty shades of f**ked-up. I suppress the brief thrill of fear. Kate and Elliot, they know I'm here.

He stands very close as he fastens the cuffs. I'm staring at his chest. His proximity is heavenly. He smells of body wash and Christian, an inebriating mix, and that drags me back into the now. I want to run my nose and tongue through that smattering of chest hair.

I could just lean forward...

He steps back and gazes at me, his expression hooded, salacious, carnal, and I am helpless, my hands tied, but just looking at his lovely face, reading his need and longing for me, I can feel the dampness between my legs. He walks slowly round me.

"You look mighty fine trussed up like this, Miss Steele. And your smart mouth, quiet for now. I like that."

Standing in front of me again, he hooks his fingers into my panties, and at a most unhurried pace, peels them down my legs, stripping me agonizingly slowly, so that he ends up kneeling in front of me. Not taking his eyes off mine, he scrunches my panties in his hand, holds them up to his nose, and inhales deeply. Holy f**k. Did he just do that He grins wickedly at me and tucks them into the pocket of his jeans.

Uncoiling from the floor, rising lazily, like a jungle cat, he points the end of the riding crop at my navel, leisurely circling it - tantalizing me. At the touch of the leather, I quiver and gasp. He walks round me again, trailing the crop around the middle of my body. On his second circuit, he suddenly flicks the crop, and it hits me underneath my behind... against my sex. I cry out in surprise as all my nerve endings stand to attention. I pull against the restraints. The shock runs through me, and it's the sweetest strangest, hedonistic feeling.

"Quiet," he whispers as he walks around me again, the crop slightly higher around the middle of my body. This time when he flicks it against me in the same place, I'm anticipat-ing it... oh my. My body convulses at the sweet, stinging bite.

As he makes his way around me, he flicks again, this time hitting my nipple, and I throw my head back as my nerve endings sing. He hits the other... a brief, swift, sweet chastisement. My ni**les harden and elongate from the assault, and I moan loudly, pulling on my leather cuffs.

"Does that feel good?" he breathes.

"Yes."

He hits me again across the bu**ocks. The crop stings this time.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Sir," I whimper.

He comes to a stop... but I can no longer see him. My eyes are closed as I try to absorb the myriad of sensations coursing through my body. Very slowly, he rains small, biting licks of the crop down my belly, heading south. I know where this is leading, and I try and psyche myself up for it - but when he hits my clitoris, I cry out loudly.

"Oh... please!" I groan.

"Quiet," he orders, and he hits me again on my behind.

I did not expect this to be like this... I am lost. Lost in a sea of sensation. And suddenly, he's dragging the crop against my sex, through my pubic hair, down to the entrance of my vagina.