Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

door.
    “Good. Don’t hesitate when I ask you to do something. Now I’m going to peel you out of this dress. Something I’ve wanted to do for a few days, if I recall. I want you to be comfortable with your body, Anastasia. You have a beautiful body, and I like to look at it. It is a joy to behold. In fact, I could gaze at you all day, and I want you unembarrassed and unashamed of your nakedness. Do you understand?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yes, what?” He leans over me, glaring.
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Do you mean that?” he snaps.
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Good. Lift your arms up over your head.”
    I do as instructed, and he reaches down and grabs the hem. Slowly, he pulls my dress up over my thighs, my hips, my belly, my breasts, my shoulders, and over my head. He stands back to examine me and absentmindedly folds my dress, not taking his eyes off me. He places it on the large chest beside the door. Reaching up, he pulls at my chin, his touch searing me.
    “You’re biting your lip,” he breathes. “You know what that does to me,” he adds darkly. “Turn around.”
    I turn immediately, no hesitation. He unclasps my bra and then taking both straps, he slowly pulls them down my arms, brushing my skin with his fingers and the tip of his thumbnails as he slides my bra off. His touch sends shivers down my spine, waking every nerve ending in my body. He’s standing behind me, so close that I feel the heat radiating from him, warming me, warming me all over. He pulls my hair so it’s all hanging down my back, grasps a handful at my nape, and angles my head to one side. He runs his nose down my exposed neck, inhaling all the way, then back up to my ear. The muscles in my belly clench, carnal and wanting. Jeez, he’s hardly touched me, and I want him.
    “You smell as divine as ever, Anastasia,” he whispers as he places a soft kiss beneath my ear.
    I moan.
    “Quiet,” he breathes. “Don’t make a sound.”
    Pulling my hair behind me, to my surprise, he starts braiding it in one large braid, his fingers fast and deft. He ties it with an unseen hair tie when he’s finished and gives it a quick tug so I’m forced back against him.
    “I like your hair braided in here,” he whispers.
    Hmm… why?
    He releases my hair.
    “Turn around,” he orders.
    I do as I’m bid, my breathing shallow, fear and longing mixed together. It’s an intoxicating mix.
    “When I tell you to come in here, this is how you will dress. Just in your panties. Do you understand?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yes, what?” He glowers at me.
    “Yes, Sir.”
    A trace of a smile lifts the corner of his mouth.
    “Good girl.” His eyes burn into mine. “When I tell you to come in here, I expect you to kneel over there.” He points to a spot beside the door. “Do it now.”
    I blink processing his words, turn, and rather clumsily kneel as directed.
    “You can sit back on your heels.”
    I sit back.
    “Place your hands and forearms flat on your thighs. Good. Now part your knees. Wider. Wider. Perfect. Look down at the floor.”
    He walks over to me, and I can see his feet and shins in my field of vision. Naked feet. I should be taking notes if he wants me to remember. He reaches down and grasps my braid again, then pulls my head back so I am looking up at him. It’s only just not painful.
    “Will you remember this position, Anastasia?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Good. Stay here, don’t move.” He leaves the room.
    I’m on my knees, waiting. Where’s he gone? What is he going to do to me? Time shifts. I have no idea how long he leaves me like this… a few minutes, five, ten? My 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