Fifty Shades Trilogy 01 - Fifty Shades of Grey

He arches a brow.
    “Err… I’m telling you now.”
    He narrows his eyes.
    “Where?”
    For some reason, possibly because he might use his influence, I don’t want to tell him.
    “A couple of publishing houses.”
    “Is that what you want to do, something in publishing?”
    I nod warily.
    “Well?” He looks at me patiently wanting more information.
    “Well what?”
    “Don’t be obtuse, Anastasia, which publishing houses?” he scolds.
    “Just small ones,” I murmur.
    “Why don’t you want me to know?”
    “Undue influence.”
    He frowns.
    “Oh, now you’re being obtuse.”
    He laughs.
    “Obtuse? Me? God, you’re challenging. Drink up, let’s talk about these limits.” He fishes out another copy of my e-mail and the list. Does he wander about with these lists in his pockets? I think there’s one in his jacket that I have. Shit, I’d better not forget that. I drain my cup.
    He glances quickly at me.
    “More?”
    “Please.”
    He smiles that oh-so-smug private smile of his, holds the champagne bottle up, and pauses.
    “Have you eaten anything?”
    Oh no… not this old chestnut.
    “Yes. I had a three-course meal with Ray.” I roll my eyes at him. The champagne is making me bold.
    He leans forward and holds my chin, staring intently into my eyes.
    “Next time you roll your eyes at me, I will take you across my knee.”
    What?!
    “Oh,” I breathe, and I can see the excitement in his eyes.
    “Oh,” he responds, mirroring my tone. “So it begins, Anastasia.”
    My heart slams against my chest, and the butterflies escape from my stomach into my constricting throat. Why is that hot?
    He fills my cup, and I drink practically all of it. Chastened, I stare up at him.
    “Got your attention now, haven’t I?”
    I nod.
    “Answer me.”
    “Yes… you’ve got my attention.”
    “Good,” he smiles a knowing smile. “So sexual acts. We’ve done most of this.”
    I move closer to him on the couch and glance down at the list.
    APPENDIX 3 Soft Limits
To be discussed and agreed between both parties:
    Which of the following sexual acts are acceptable to the Submissive?
    • Masturbation
    • Fellatio
    • Cunnilingus
    • Vaginal intercourse
    • Vaginal fisting
    • Anal intercourse
    • Anal fisting
    “No fisting, you say. Anything else you object to?” he asks softly.
    I swallow.
    “Anal intercourse doesn’t exactly float my boat.”
    “I’ll agree to the fisting, but I’d really like to claim your ass, Anastasia. But we’ll wait for that. Besides, it’s not something we can dive into,” he smirks at me. “Your ass will need training.”
    “Training?” I whisper.
    “Oh yes. It’ll need careful preparation. Anal intercourse can be very pleasurable, trust me. But if we try it and you don’t like it, we don’t have to do it again.” He grins down at me.
    I blink up at him. He thinks I’ll enjoy it? How does he know it’s pleasurable?
    “Have you done that?” I whisper.
    “Yes.”
    Holy crap. I gasp.
    “With a man?”
    “No. I’ve never had sex with a man. Not my scene.”
    “Mrs. Robinson?”
    “Yes.”
    Holy shit… how? I frown. He moves on down the list.
    “Okay… swallowing semen. Well, you get an A in that.”
    I flush, and my inner goddess smacks her lips together glowing with pride.
    “So.” He looks down at me grinning. “Swallowing semen okay?”
    I nod, not able to look him in the eye, and drain my cup again.
    “More?” he asks.
    “More.” And I’m suddenly reminded of our conversation earlier today as he refills my cup. Is he referring to that or just the champagne? Is this whole champagne thing more?
    “Sex toys?” he asks.
    I shrug, glancing down the list.
    Is the use of sex toys acceptable to the Submissive?
    • Vibrators
    • Dildos
    • Butt Plugs
    • Other
    “Butt plug? Does it do what it says on the tin?” I scrunch my nose up in distaste.
    “Yes,” he smiles. “And I refer to anal intercourse above. Training.”
    “Oh… what’s in other?”
    “Beads, eggs… that sort of stuff.”
    “Eggs?” I’m alarmed.
    “Not real eggs,” he laughs loudly, shaking his head.
    I purse my lips at him.
    “I’m glad you find me funny.” I can’t keep my injured feelings out of my voice.
    He stops laughing.
    “I apologize. Miss Steele, I’m sorry,” he says, trying to look contrite, but his eyes are still dancing with humor. “Any problem with toys?”
    “No,” I snap.
    “Anastasia,” he cajoles. “I am sorry. Believe me. I