Fifty Shades of Grey

The Dominant shall provide The Submissive with a personal trainer four three times a week in hour-long sessions at times to be mutually agreed between the personal trainer and The Submissive. The personal trainer will report to The Dominant on The Submissive’s progress.

Personal Hygiene/Beauty:

The Submissive will keep herself clean and shaved and/or waxed at all times. The Submissive will visit a beauty salon of The Dominant’s choosing at times to be decided by The Dominant, and undergo whatever treatments The Dominant sees fit.

Personal Safety:

The Submissive will not drink to excess, smoke, take recreational drugs or put herself in any unnecessary danger.

Personal Qualities:

The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than The Dominant. The Submissive will conduct herself in a respectful and modest manner at all times. She must recognize that her behavior is a direct reflection on The Dominant. She shall be held accountable for any misdeeds, wrongdoings and misbehavior committed when not in the presence of the Dominant.

Failure to comply with any of the above will result in immediate punishment, the nature of which shall be determined by The Dominant.

“So the obedience thing still stands?”

“Oh, yes.” He grins.

I shake my head amused, and before I realize it, I roll my eyes at him.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Anastasia?” He breathes.

Oh fuck.

“Possibly, depends what your reaction is.”

“Same as always,” he says, shaking his head slightly, his eyes alight with excitement.

I swallow instinctively and a frisson of exhilaration runs through me.

“So... ” Holy shit. What am I going to do?

“Yes?” He licks his lower lip.

“You want to spank me now.”

“Yes. And I will.”

“Oh, really, Mr. Grey?” I challenge, grinning back at him. Two can play this game.

“Are you going to stop me?”

“You’re going to have to catch me first.”

His eyes widen a fraction, and he grins, slowly getting to his feet.

“Oh, really, Miss Steele?”

The breakfast bar is between us. I have never been so grateful for its existence than in this moment.

“And you’re biting your lip,” he breathes, moving slowly to his left as I move to mine.

“You wouldn’t,” I tease. “After all, you roll your eyes.” I try reasoning with him. He continues to move toward his left, as do I.

“Yes, but you’ve just raised the bar on the excitement stakes with this game.” His eyes blaze, and wild anticipation emanates from him.

“I’m quite fast you know.” I try for nonchalance.

“So am I.”

He’s stalking me, in his own kitchen.

“Are you going to come quietly?” he asks.

“Do I ever?”

“Miss Steele, what do you mean?” he smirks. “It’ll be worse for you if I have to come and get you.”

“That’s only if you catch me, Christian. And right now, I have no intention of letting you catch me.”

“Anastasia, you may fall and hurt yourself. Which will put you in direct contravention of rule number seven.”

“I have been in danger since I met you, Mr. Grey, rules or no rules.”

“Yes you have.” He pauses, and his brow furrows slightly.

Suddenly, he lunges for me, making me squeal and run for the dining room table. I manage to escape, putting the table between us. My heart is pounding and adrenaline has spiked through my body… boy... this is so thrilling. I’m a child again, though that’s not right. I watch him carefully as he paces deliberately toward me. I inch away.

“You certainly know how to distract a man, Anastasia.”

“We aim to please, Mr. Grey. Distract you from what?”

“Life. The universe.” He waves one of his hands vaguely.

“You did seem very pre-occupied as you were playing.” He stops and folds his arms, his expression amused.

“We can do this all day, baby, but I will get you, and it will just be worse for you when I do.”“No, you won’t.” I must not be over-confident. I repeat this as a mantra. My subconscious has found her Nikes, and she’s on the starting blocks.

“Anyone would think you didn’t want me to catch you.”

“I don’t. That’s the point. I feel about punishment the way you feel about me touching you.”His entire demeanor changes in a nanosecond. Gone is playful Christian, and he stands staring at me as if I’d slapped him. He’s ashen.

“That’s how you feel?” he whispers.

Those four words, and the way he utters them, speaks volumes. Oh no. They tell me so much more about him and how he feels. They tell me about his fear and loathing. I frown.

No, I don’t feel that bad. No way. Do I?

“No. It doesn’t affect me quite as much as that, but it gives you an idea,” I murmur, staring anxiously at him.

“Oh,” he says.

Crap. He looks completely and utterly lost, like I’ve pulled the rug from under his feet.

Taking a deep breath, I move round the table until I am standing in front of him, gazing into his apprehensive eyes.

“You hate it that much?” he breathes, his eyes filled with horror.

“Well… no,” I reassure him. Jeez – that’s how he feels about people touching him?