Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

torso is resting on the bed beside him. He throws his right leg over both of mine and plants his left forearm on the small of my back, holding me down so I cannot move. Oh fuck.
    “Put your hands up on either side of your head,” he orders.
    I obey immediately.
    “Why am I doing this, Anastasia?” he asks.
    “Because I rolled my eyes at you,” I can barely speak.
    “Do you think that’s polite?”
    “No.”
    “Will you do it again?”
    “No.”
    “I will spank you each time you do it, do you understand?”
    Very slowly, he pulls down my sweatpants. Oh, how demeaning is this? Demeaning and scary and hot. He’s making such a meal of this. My heart is in my mouth. I can barely breathe. Shit, is this going to hurt?
    He places his hand on my naked behind, softly fondling me, stroking round and round with his flat palm. And then his hand is no longer there… and he hits me – hard. Ow! My eyes spring open in response to the pain, and I try to rise, but his hand moves between my shoulder blades keeping me down. He caresses me again where he’s hit me, and his breathing’s changed – it’s louder, harsher. He hits me again and again, quickly in succession. Holy fuck it hurts. I make no sound, my face screwed up against the pain. I try and wriggle away from the blows – spurred on by adrenaline spiking and coursing through my body.
    “Keep still,” he growls. “Or I’ll spank you for longer.”
    He’s rubbing me now, and the blow follows. A rhythmic pattern emerges, caress, fondle, slap hard. I have to concentrate to handle this pain. My mind empties as I endeavor to absorb the grueling sensation. He doesn’t hit me in the same place twice in succession – he’s spreading the pain.
    “Aargh!” I cry out on the tenth slap – and I’m unaware that I have been mentally counting the blows.
    “I’m just getting warmed up.”
    He hits me again then he strokes me softly. The combination of the hard stinging blow and his gentle caress is so mind-numbing. He hits me again… this is getting harder to take. My face hurts it’s screwed up so tight. He strokes me gently and then the blow comes. I cry out again.
    “No one to hear you, baby, just me.”
    And he hits me again and again. From somewhere deep inside, I want to beg him to stop. But I don’t. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. He continues the unrelenting rhythm. I cry out six more times. Eighteen slaps in total. My body is singing, singing from his merciless assault.
    “Enough,” he breathes hoarsely. “Well done, Anastasia. Now I’m going to fuck you.”
    He caresses my behind gently, and it burns as he strokes me round and round and down. Suddenly, he inserts two fingers inside me, taking me completely by surprise. I gasp, this new assault breaking through the numbness around my brain.
    “Feel this. See how much your body likes this, Anastasia. You’re soaking just for me.” There is awe in his voice. He moves his fingers, in and out in quick succession.
    I groan, no surely not , and then his fingers are gone… and I’m left wanting.
    “Next time, I will get you to count. Now where’s that condom?”
    He reaches beside him for the condom and lifts me gently, pushing me face down onto the bed. I hear the sound of his zipper and the rip of the foil. He drags my sweatpants off and then guides me into a kneeling position, gently caressing my now very sore behind.
    “I’m going to take you now. You can come,” he murmurs.
    What? Like I have a choice.
    And he’s inside me, quickly filling me, I moan loudly. He moves, pounding into me, a fast, intense pace against my sore behind. The feeling is beyond exquisite, raw and debasing and mind blowing. My senses are ravaged, disconnected, solely concentrating on what he’s doing to me. How he’s making me feel, that familiar pull deep in my belly, tightening, quickening. NO… and my traitorous body explodes in an intense, body-shattering orgasm.
    “Oh, Ana!” he cries out loudly as he finds his release, holding me in place as he pours himself into me. He collapses, panting hard beside me, and he pulls me on top of him and buries his face in my hair, holding me close.
    “Oh, baby,” he breathes. “Welcome to my world.”
    We lie there, panting together, waiting for our breathing to slow. He gently strokes my hair. I’m on his chest again. But this time, I don’t have the strength to lift my hand and feel him. Boy… I survived. That wasn’t so bad. I’m more stoic