Fifty Shades After

Chapter 29: Not-so-Vanilla

"I don't think I'll ever understand. Before that night, it had been days since the playroom incident. I just couldn't try it. I was tired. I was pregnant."
- "That was my fault. I shouldn't of tried suspension. It has always been a hard limit for you."
- "I thought that was the reason you went to Elena. Because she could offer you-"
- "Don't. She can't offer me shit, Ana. You, you're my balance. Kinky fuckery or plain vanilla, I've always wanted it with you. And no one else."

It's suddenly quiet, and for a second there, I think that they've discovered that I'm here. I can't hear anything else. Just my breathing. I want to leave, yet I'm stuck to the floor boards.

Ive heard about the "talk," but never thought about the idea that the birds and the bees also carried whips and chains.

I gain control of my legs and slowly walk away from their room.

I feel the hallways become more narrow, and it's getting difficult to breathe.

Instinctively, my hand goes to my mouth to cover it. I'm trying to hold it in, whatever it is, long enough to release it without anyone noticing. I run downstairs, skipping the last three steps. I run to the west wing, bumping into the furniture.

Both hands are over my mouth as I semi run, towards the deepest room in the house.

I find a big old wooden door and push it open, revealing a museum of old furniture they refer to as the basement.

Okay, coast clear, let it out.

I remove my hand from my mouth, and I'm panting.

Nothing.

I was expecting something, a gag, or a bit of my dinner, but nothing.

Except, it was something.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!, God, God, God!" I find myself screaming and hopping in disgust, pulling my hair and almost gouging my eyes out.

This is bound to happen in any kid's life. Walking in on their parents, or hear a forbidden conversation.

But not like this. Never like this.

Whips? Cuffs? Suspension? Kinky.. what! Ugh! God, no! Mom and Dad... they- I can't even finish the damn thought!

I'm... I'm a bondage child!

And I cry out probably the most immature sound I've made since grade school.

"Ewww!!"

After a few minutes of crying out to God in disgust, I leave the basement and rush upstairs. I don't want to see anyone, not even them. who knows what they do when they're alone- oh, God!

I make it home safe to my room. I lock the door and place a wooden chair under the knob, which I think is pointless, however, I've always wanted to do that, and what better opportunity than this?

I release a long and tiring grunt and toss myself on my bed. And as soon as I do that, I jump when I hear a voice from down under.
"Teddy?" I flip to my stomach and dangle my head to the floor to see who has inhabited the bottom of my bed.

"Hi." Phoebe waves at me. I wave back in confusion. "What are you doing down there?" But I mentally answer my own question. My mind idly drifts to a night when Mom's crazy ex boyfriend Derek was banging on our door, completely intoxicated after she had dumped him. Phoebe didn't leave the bottom of my bed even after the police had taken him away.

"Come here." I extend my hand towards her and she takes it. I pull her out and she swiftly slides out. I open my arms and she falls into them. And before I ask her why she was down there again, she starts sobbing into my chest.