Fifty Shades Of Grey: My Years With Elena #Explicit [Fifty Shades] #fanfic

CHAPTER FOUR

I have been sitting on the stairs for the past fifteen minutes, staring at my Ingersoll wristwatch. It is now two minutes to one and I rub my sweaty palms against the canvas material of my shorts. I had a quick wash in the downstairs bathroom with some kind of scented body wash that was in there and I now stink of jasmine, but it's better than being covered in dust and sweat. Unable to wait any longer and before anticipation and desire take over me, I jump up and head to the third bedroom on the right and knock sharply.
Careful bonehead! You are not delivering some Goddamn UPS package!
Within seconds, I hear the key turning in the lock and the door glides open, revealing Mrs. Lincoln in a long, black, towelling robe.
Okay...not the sexiest of outfits but I can live with it...
"Good boy. Bang on time." She smiles seductively and I feel it resonate within me. She ushers me into the room, which is basically a dressing room with mirrored wardrobes on both sides and a large bay window that overlooks the driveway, at the front of the house.
"This used to be the master bedroom," she begins, all matter-of-fact like she's suddenly morphed into a Realtor. "But Linc didn't like it. He wanted a view of the grounds, so he knocked through the two back bedrooms and created a new master bedroom suite."
Okay - seriously don't give a fuck. When's she going to kiss me again?
"But I was always fond of this room. I preferred the view of the front of the house. Enables me to see who's going...and who's coming."
The word hangs heavy in the air, full of licentious promise and I swallow nervously. She smiles smugly at me, then turns on her heel and walks down the room. I follow in her alluring wake, as we are reflected into infinity via the floor to ceiling wardrobe mirrors.
"So I asked Linc to give me carte blanche with this room," she continues, back in Realtor mode. "I wanted to bring in my own team who would be answerable only to me and design it to my specifications. Linc was affronted at first, but eventually gave in."
I wonder if she slapped him into submission...
"He's never been in here. I want it to stay that way."
She slides open the wardrobe door furthest away from the bedroom door and moves some jackets to the side. Behind them bizarrely, hangs a long, white cotton curtain. She pushes it away.To my amazement, a single wooden door appears behind it, seemingly built into the back of the wardrobe. She steps inside the wardrobe and fishes inside the pocket of a hanging leather jacket, bringing out a small key. She fits it into the lock of the door and pushes it open.
"Go in, Christian," she says huskily.
I step through and take in a sharp breath.
FUCK ME!
Instead of finding Narnia, I have entered into a hidden bedroom. I say bedroom in the loosest sense. It is actually more of a boudoir, with a large, silver metal framed bed covered in black satin sheets, walls covered with jet black damask wall paper and a thick charcoal grey carpet, with a mock Tiger-skin rug in front of the bed. The wardrobes and chests of draws are all in black wood and above me hangs an ornate crystal chandelier. Above the bed is a huge full length mirror, as long and as wide as the bed. There are no windows in the room and I doubt it is noticeable from the front. If you didn't know about this secret room, you'd certainly never guess it was in here.
"Go and sit on the bed, Christian."
She's back in bossy mode. I like it.
Trying to remain calm and swallowing some of my nerves, I go and sit tentatively at the side of the bed and she follows me until she is standing directly in front of me.
"I'm sure you must be wondering why I have a hidden bedroom."
I nod slowly, trying to look cool.
"Linc and I...our marriage is now pretty much just for appearances. He's always either on a site, schmoozing clients, or out of the country on business. I got lonely and bored - alone in this huge house all the time."
So mom was right.
"So I started to go out more - socialising, making new friends. Then one evening a couple of years ago, I got chatting to this very interesting man. He was having a few drinks before heading off to a club and asked me if I wanted to join him."
I nod. "There's some good clubs in the city."
I should know - I've been thrown out of most of them...
She grins wickedly. "I thought the same thing. But we didn't go dancing. We spent the evening watching men and women getting tied up, flogged, then fucked senseless. It was very enlightening."
My jaw would have hit the floor if it wasn't for my erection meeting it half way there.
HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT. It all makes sense now.
SHE'S A FUCKING DOMINATRIX!
She gazes intently at me. "I don't take this on lightly, Christian. I know it's a lot to take in and you are still only fifteen, despite looking like an eighteen year old. But you have always fascinated me. You were a solemn little boy and you've grown into an angry young man. Why is that? Why are you so angry all the time? Grace and Carrick are so worried about you - especially all your brawling recently. Grace told me they are trying all different forms of discipline, but none of them are working."
I shrug. "I've got a lot of issues."
And if I wanted counselling, I would have gone to my overpaid asshole of a shrink. I'm seriously getting pissed now. I didn't come up here to get a potted history of this room, her marriage and some kinky sex crap she's into.
"When are you going to kiss me?" I snap in irritation.
She smiles seductively at me, then gives me another bolt-out-of-the-blue slap.
GODDAMMIT! When is she going to stop doing that?
"I'LL decide when I'm going to kiss you again," she snarls at me. Then her features soften slightly. "But first I want to see how you respond to MY form of discipline." She tilts her head to the side slightly. "That is...if you want to try. If not, you can leave right now, go back to shifting rubble and we'll never discuss this again." She gives me an intense look, her ice blue eyes cloudy with trepidation. "Do you want to try it, Christian?" She whispers softly.
What a fucking stupid question.
"Yes. As long as it doesn't leave this room, then I want to try."
Her eyes light up and she beams. "Good boy. I honestly believe it will help channel your anger better than whatever methods your parents are trying." She takes a deep breath. "Now lie down in the middle of the bed." She orders.
I comply immediately.
"When I ask you to do something in here, you must do it immediately without hesitation. If you hesitate, you overthink things and then it won't work. I need to get your mind and your body to focus solely on my instructions and actions."
"Okay."
"If you hesitate, I will punish you."
Fuck! I'm going to have permanent red marks on my cheeks. Mom and Carrick will think I've been fighting again!
I watch her sashay over to the wardrobe and open it. I gasp in astonishment. Hanging inside the wardrobe doors are an array of ties, rope lengths and belts and inside the wardrobe I can see a selection of canes, chains and other implements I've never seen in my life. I stare in morbid fascination as she pulls out something that looks like a horse's tail and shuts the doors. She then wanders over to the chest of drawers, rustles about inside the top drawer and pulls out something that I can't quite see. She pushes the drawer shut then walks slowly over to me, her ice- blue eyes not leaving mine.
"Lift your hands above your head," she orders.
I quickly do as she asks. I'm breathing so rapidly now, I'm afraid I'm going to hyperventilate. I then notice in her hands what the unseen item from the chest of drawers was and I gasp again.
Handcuffs? HOLY CRAP!
"I'm going to cuff each of your wrists to the bedposts," she begins in a voice like liquid velvet. "This will serve two purposes. One as an obvious restraining device and two, as a form of teaching you the basics of submitting control over to me. Do you understand?"
"Yes." I pant.
Suddenly the horsetail thing lashes across my bare knees, stinging them with fronds of leather.
"Yes what?" She snaps.
Fuck...
"Y-yes, Mrs. Lincoln." I say hurriedly.
There is another stinging blow from the tail and I automatically sit up in anger.
"Lie back down, Christian." She snaps. "That's why we're in here - your inability to control your emotions." She looks at me through hooded eyes. "In here, you call me Ma'am."
Goddammit, she could have just said!
I look at the red marks across my knees and then sullenly lie back down. She grabs one wrist, straps a leather cuff to it, then threads the chain through the bed post, before securing it to the metal frame. She then repeats this on my other wrist, so I am lying in almost a crucified position on the bed. She pulls on the cuffs to check I'm secure and then she suddenly lunges at me, grabbing my face and kissing me hard, her tongue invading and demanding inside my mouth. I automatically try to touch her, but my restraints prevent me and press hard against my skin.
I am trussed up, powerless, and totally at her mercy.
And I've never been happier.