fifty-shades-of-grey

“Hmm, I figured as much. Very apt quote.” His long index finger absently traces thewriting. “I thought I was D’Urberville, not Angel. You decided on the debasement.” Hegives me a brief wolfish smile. “Trust you to find something that resonates so appropriately.”“It’s also a plea,” I whisper. Why am I so nervous? My mouth is dry.“A plea? For me to go easy on you?”I nod.“I bought these for you,” he says quietly his gaze impassive. “I’ll go easier on you ifyou accept them.”I swallow convulsively.“Christian, I can’t accept them, they’re just too much.”“You see, this is what I was talking about, you defying me. I want you to have them,and that’s the end of the discussion. It’s very simple. You don’t have to think about this.As a submissive you would just be grateful for them. You just accept what I buy you becauseit pleases me for you to do so.”“I wasn’t a submissive when you bought them for me,” I whisper.“No… but you’ve agreed, Anastasia.” His eyes turn wary.I sigh. I am not going to win this, so over to plan B.“So they are mine to do with as I wish?”He eyes me suspiciously, but concedes.“Yes.”“In that case, I’d like to give them to a charity, one working in Darfur since that seemsto be close to your heart. They can auction them.”“If that’s what you want to do.” His mouth sets into a hard line. He’s disappointed.I flush.“I’ll think about it,” I murmur, I don’t want to disappoint him, and his words comeback to me. I want you to want to please me.“Don’t think, Anastasia. Not about this.” His tone is quiet and serious.How can I not think? You can pretend to be a car, like his other possessions, my subconsciousmakes an unwelcome vitriolic return. I ignore her. Oh, can’t we rewind? Theatmosphere between us is now tense. I don’t know what to do. I stare down at my fingers.How do I retrieve this situation?He puts the champagne bottle on the table and stands in front of me. Putting his handunder my chin, he tilts my head up. He gazes down at me, his expression grave.“I will buy you lots of things, Anastasia. Get used to it. I can afford it. I’m a verywealthy man.” He leans down and plants a swift, chaste kiss on my lips. “Please.” Hereleases me.‘Ho’ my subconscious mouths at me.“It makes me feel cheap,” I murmur.Christian runs his hand through his hair, exasperated.“It shouldn’t. You’re over-thinking it, Anastasia. Don’t place some vague moral judgmenton yourself based on what others might think. Don’t waste your energy. It’s onlybecause you have reservations about our arrangement, that’s perfectly natural. You don’tknow what you’re getting yourself into.”