Fifty Shades: Submission and Strength

Chapter 3

Author's Note: Sorry folks — no real lemons yet. I just don't have it in me for now and I want this story to be simpler than my other ones, so the pace will be much faster.

That first weekend, Christian was in sexual bliss. He had pushed Ana to her limits and she took everything like a champ. The St. Andrews Cross. The cane. The vibrating butt plug. Nipple clothespins. Genital clamps. Whether shackled to the bed or bent over a bench, Ana was ready, wet and willing. Christian was drunk with power.

By Saturday night, between them they had shared nine orgasms — five for her and four for him. He didn't want to exhaust her but she was able to keep up with his rigorous pace. Finally, by 2 a.m., he approached her as she put on her robe and headed to bed.

"Was that satisfactory Anastasia?" he asked, willing her to look at him voluntarily. What the fuck Grey? Just tell her to look at you. You're her Dom for God's sake.

"More than satisfactory Sir," she timidly replied, eyes glued to the floor.

"Look up at me," he commanded gently. Her soulful eyes thrilled him to no end. "I laid out arnica cream and ibuprofen in your room. Do you need assistance with the bath?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

"No thank you Sir." He winced. "I appreciate the offer but I'm fine," she reassured him, granting him a dazzling smile that softened the blow of her rejection. His heart quickened.

"Wonderful. I'll see you in the morning Anastasia."

"Yes Sir. A Western omelet correct?"

"Yes that would be nice. Thank you," he grinned.

"You're welcome Sir," she said before turning down the hallway. Christian watched her walk directly to her room, like a soldier marching down a battlefield. Elena was right. There's no fuss with this girl. She's like a mindless robot — albeit a very well-endowed one.

Christian grimaced at his inner musings. Don't insult her intelligence Grey. She's not a lifeless clone or doll. She just keeps her thoughts well-hidden. That's her prerogative. Hell, that's what people in this lifestyle sign up for! What are you complaining about? She only wants sex; so do I. That doesn't make us bad people. Respect the girl's wish for privacy and keep it strictly professional. No add-ons other than the sexual kind.

Christian turned in for the night but found sleep elusive. His mind invariably wandered to the tiny girl down the hall from him, trying to wrap his head around the enigma of Anastasia Steele. He basked in the afterglow of sated dominance, but wondered what drove her to submission. What caused her to want pain alongside her pleasure?

Stop it Grey. She's not digging into your past. Quit trying to dredge up hers. Who the fuck cares what her life has been like or what she thinks? You're interested in her body, not her brain. She was happy tonight. You were happy. Leave it at that. But after two hours of fitful rest, he flung the sheets off and stomped downstairs to crank out some tunes on the piano. At four in the morning, he resolved to quit overanalyzing his latest arrangement and finally drifted off, determined not to pry any further into his submissive's life.

The next morning, after a pleasant breakfast and mind-blowing playroom session, Christian was now equally determined to draw Ana out of her shell, despite his earlier pledges. She was freshly showered and preparing him a salad for the afternoon before heading home. Christian watched as she subtly but elegantly swayed her hips while tossing the Romaine lettuce.

"Why did you decide to study international law?" he asked out of the blue. She abruptly stopped what she was doing and turned toward him, staring at the ground before replying. Her instantaneous deference only ratcheted up Christian's frustration. How many more fucking times do I have to remind her that she can look at me outside of a scene?

"I enjoy learning about how the world ticks and being involved in the nitty-gritty mechanics of international relations, but I wasn't cut out for a career in public policy or politics, so I stuck to law."

Christian's brows shot up. Finally, more than two words.

"Why not?"

Ana sighed. "International relations typically involves work such as advising, teaching or serving on nonprofits, all of which requires a lot of people-to-people interaction, which I am not particularly skilled at. And politics is far too socially outgoing for me. I prefer being behind the scenes and I have a good memory, so law was a natural choice for me," she explained, a slight blush staining her cheeks. Don't tell him your life story Ana. He's just being polite for Pete's sake!

Christian was elated with himself. I knew there was life behind those eyes. But I still can't get a good look at them.

"Please look at me Anastasia when we are outside of the playroom. I don't like to repeat myself," he reproached her.

"I'm very sorry Sir," she said, chastised. She promptly glanced up but instead of sparkling blue eyes, he was met with a downtrodden expression that twisted his gut. Shit, I didn't mean to upset her.

"That's much better," he smiled, easing her concern — and his. "Why do you say that you're not good at people-to-people interaction?" I've sure as fuck enjoyed our interaction so far, up until you clam up on me.

"Umm, I'm shy and a bookworm," she confessed meekly, though inside she was screaming. There, I'm a loser. Now will you shut up and leave me alone so I can do my work and go home!

Ana began to rock on her heels nervously. Christian accepted the small nugget of information she threw him and relented, switching gears to another subject as she resumed preparing his salad. "So what do you do in your free time Miss Steele?"

Ana didn't turn around but he saw her flinch. Fuck Grey. What part of no delving into her personal life did you fail to comprehend?

"Books. Study. Not much Sir," she muttered, concealing her agitation as she layered on the salad dressing.

"No TV?" Jesus Grey, shut up already. She has every right to break the contract because you're violating her hard limits, so back off or you'll lose her before you really even had her.

"I tend to only watch news shows such as BBC, PBS, etc. Nothing exciting Sir."

"Me too," Christian replied, giving her some breathing room. He began to comb through the emails on his phone, although he couldn't shake the feeling that he had alienated her with his inappropriate questioning. She continued to efficiently prepare his salad while he continued to worry.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry," he mumbled, unaccustomed to apologizing for his actions.

Ana exhaled. Don't be a bitch Steele. The man's asking benign questions and you just had the most amazing sex of your life. He's obviously a pro and not going to breach your trust, so relax a little.

"I don't like a lot of fluff, and there's far too much of that on TV," she uttered, taking him by surprise. "I hate reality TV — real life is plenty of reality for me — but my one vice is the 'Real Housewives.' Well, not my one vice. I suppose I have other extracurricular activities..." she trailed off teasingly, the insinuation causing Christian's pants to grow unbearably tight.

Christian's heart pounded against his ribs. She was flirting with him.

"'Real Housewives' huh? I'll have to check it out. And we all have our vices Miss Steele," he winked. And you're mine.

Ana's face flamed crimson. She quickly wrapped up his salad, thanked him for the weekend, grabbed her overnight bag and bolted toward the elevator, leaving him in a daze. Gathering his wits, Christian just as quickly bolted after her.

"Ana wait," he called out before catching up to her. She spun around, bewildered and apprehensive. "I just want to ensure that we're still on for 6 p.m. on Wednesday?" he breathed.

Her shoulders sagged in relief. "Yes Sir."

"Good." He leaned in to kiss her cheek. She reciprocated with a bashful smile before darting for the doors.

Christian stood there, wearing a wolfish grin, until realization hit him. Wednesday was still two days away.