Chapter 29 Purgatory Part 3 - Gleam of Dawn

‘The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.’

After my difficult start in life, I’ve always been driven to succeed, to be in total control of every aspect of my life, to push myself to the limit. I aim to always excel at whatever I do, to be the best, to always achieve the very high goals that I set myself. Music, playing the piano is no different.

I can’t get back to sleep after my nightmare. I never can. So, as usual, I play my piano. I need something technically challenging, something that I have to really concentrate on, to get my head straight again, and attempt to restore my equilibrium after my shocking moment of self-revelation, when I realized that I have become the sadistic bully of my nightmares.

I select ‘Gaspard de la Nuit’, by Maurice Ravel. The Scarbo movement is considered to be one of the most difficult solo piano pieces ever written, reflecting the nightmarish mood of the poem it’s based on. It suits my tormented mood perfectly. 

But still I can’t escape from my thoughts. 

In my business life, in order to become as successful as I have, I’ve learnt many manipulative and coercive techniques in order to push a deal through and get what I want. In my private life, under Elena’s expert tutelage, I’ve become a master in every possible technique to give a woman immense sexual pleasure. I’ve gone on to become a Dominant, and developed the necessary techniques and skills required to satisfy my appetite for sexual sadism.

I’ve employed all of these skills on Anastasia. An innocent and naïve young virgin, she never stood a chance against me. I’ve abused the physical attraction, the sexual magnetism between us in order to use her for my own depraved pleasure, telling myself that she was a fully consenting adult, just like the fifteen previous subs I've had. 

But the difference was that they all knew exactly what they were agreeing to. They had all actively sought out a Dominant, because they actually craved the pain they gained under my control. They freely gave themselves over to me to become an instrument of my will, wanting only to please me. They masochistically needed me, just as much as I sadistically needed them. I never inquired why they had this need, any more than I ever disclosed why I enjoyed punishing them. 

In comparison to these women, Anastasia had no experience whatsoever to draw on, as I knew only too well, so how could she properly consent to something she had no real conception of? I drew her in, seduced her, used every trick in the book on her, until she even believed herself to be in love with me. And deep down, I knew it was wrong, but I selfishly carried on anyway.  

Worse still, I got arrogant and complacent. Having been used to my needs being so efficiently taken care of by the previous fifteen, I neglectfully didn’t take into account how inexperienced a sub Anastasia was the first time I spanked her. I overlooked the fact that whatever she said to me about being okay, of course she needed my support to help her through the inevitable confusion she experienced at the conflict of erotic pain and pleasure spiking through her body at the same time. It was a totally new and bewildering experience for her, and in hindsight it was obvious that I should not have left her alone that night - but I did. Yet she still came back for more from me, and I only too willingly let her. Shame on you, Grey.

And worst of all, I selfishly got totally carried away when I punished her with the belt. I was lost in the moment of my ecstatic  pleasure as I hit her, not checking that she didn't need to safe-word  because I was too busy enjoying myself. Unforgivable.

Just as the crack whore’s pimp beat me with a leather belt, so I in turn beat Anastasia with a leather belt purely for my own pleasure, not hers. I hurt her in just the same way as he hurt me, because I am sick and perverted. I tried to mold her to suit my sadistic tastes, and in doing so I broke her and broke our budding relationship.

So can it be rebuilt? Could I persuade her to let us start again, to give me another chance? The question is, can I be cured of my sickness? Do I even want to be cured? This is who I am, what I need, what I enjoy. Isn’t it? Could I deal with trying to rein in my sadistic need to punish? Could I give up the thrill and the euphoric high I get watching her take the pain for me? 

If the answer is no, then can I deal with life without Anastasia? And would she even consider giving me a second chance anyway? If she has any sense, she won’t, Grey. She’s best rid of a sicko like you.

I finish playing the difficult piece of music, not any clearer in my head about how to balance everything out. Elena has guided and advised me for so long. She knows me so well, so surely she can't be wrong in her assessment that I have to have my needs met, that vanilla just won’t cut it for a man like me. She must be right, mustn’t she? Or is she just as fucked up as I am? That’s what Flynn was basically saying about her, wasn’t it?

Flynn made a sensible and logical case, paving the way for all sorts of future possibilities with Anastasia, that would be for her benefit as well as mine. I could give her so much. I could show her the world. I could take care of her. If I can change. 

But that is one mighty big ‘If’.

Unable to settle to anything else, I quickly get changed and head down to the gym, ignoring Taylor who steps in behind me and follows me down. At this early hour of the morning, the gym is deserted, so it’s just the two of us. 

He’s acting like my fucking shadow and it’s doing my head in. Normally there is a quiet, relaxed atmosphere between us, but things feel tense and awkward today and that pisses me off. As we both lift weights, I speak to him to address the issue.

“I appreciate that you and Mrs. Jones are under some sort of misapprehension about the events of yesterday with regard to my safety, Taylor, but there really is no need for either of you to be concerned. I just have a lot on my mind at the moment, that’s all. And in future, you will not manhandle me, and you will only address me as Mr. Grey, or sir. Is that clear?” 

I’m reminding him of the boundaries I set when I first employed him. Just because I was only twenty three, I didn’t want him to think I didn’t expect to be treated with the full respect due to me as his employer. Back off, Taylor. Don't start getting too familiar. Giving me personal advice, for Christ's sake.

“Of course, Mr. Grey. I'm sorry if you regarded my actions as unnecessary, but my first duty is always to ensure your personal safety. My professional assessment of the situation that presented yesterday morning was that I should act first and ask questions later, given the circumstances and the volatile nature of your earlier behavior. Is my understanding that Dr. Flynn will be returning again this morning correct, sir?” 

His sharp brown eyes coolly meet mine, leaving me in no doubt that I’m not going to intimidate him. Taylor doesn't take shit from anyone, including me it seems, when it comes to carrying out his duties. Clearly, he’s taking his responsibilities too fucking seriously and he’s not going to back off yet. Yeah, okay, I get the message, Flynn’s worried too. You’ve made your less than subtle point, Taylor, but don't think you’re calling the shots here.

I just throw him a look, abruptly replace the weights and walk out of the gym.

~~~

I check the surveillance reports – Anastasia still hasn’t left her apartment. I check her cell – just another text from Kate asking why she hasn’t answered her last one. By the time I’ve showered and then had breakfast courtesy of Gail, who still insists on preparing it for me despite it being the weekend, John Flynn makes his appearance.

“Thought I’d come round earlier rather than later, knowing you’re not one to sleep in of a morning,” he breezily states, as he calmly wanders into the kitchen after being shown in by Taylor, who, along with Gail, quickly makes himself scarce, discretion being the better part of valor. No doubt he’s heaving a sigh of relief that someone else is minding the boss for a while.

“Can’t keep away, can you? I'll bet it's because you just can’t wait to get that guided tour of my playroom, isn't that right John?”

“That must be it, Christian,” he agrees with a wry smile, as he studies my face. He no doubt takes in the fact that I haven't bothered to shave for several days now, and I imagine the lack of sleep is also apparent on my face. There’s no hiding the fact that I look and feel like shit.

I offer him a cup of coffee.

“I’d prefer tea please, if you’ve got it.” Of course, the guy’s a Brit.

I open the cupboard, and sitting there right in front of me is the box of Twining’s English Breakfast tea bags. 

Anastasia’s favorite.

 I instructed Gail to lay in a supply, especially for her. I'm frozen to the spot. Literally. Just that one small reminder is enough to undo all the distracting measures I've taken since I woke in the night, alone in her empty bed after my nightmare, so painfully reminded that she’s gone. 

Now I’m reminded all over again that Anastasia has left me, and the excruciating pain is like a knife right through my heart. It’s fucking agony. I didn't know you could hurt this much and still be alive. It’s far worse than any physical beating I’ve ever taken. How the fuck do I make this stop?

Tea bag out. Weak and black, that’s how she takes her tea. Just a couple of quick dunks of the tea bag.

She doesn’t drink coffee.

She doesn’t know much about wine or champagne, but enjoyed whatever I selected for her to try, so I think she probably has a good palate, which I could easily help her to develop. I like that she’s up front and honest and openly admits that she doesn’t know about these things. I hate people who bullshit and make out they’re experts when they know shit all. I would like to guide her and show her all the finer things in life.

She liked the oysters I introduced her to, another first for her. She happily tried them, even though they are an acquired taste. I like that about her, that she is open minded enough to try a new culinary experience if I suggest it to her. There are so many other wonderful foods I know she would enjoy trying. I would enjoy educating her about these too.

She noticed my collection of Trouton paintings on her very first visit to my office; her comment about them ‘raising the ordinary to extraordinary’ shows she has a good eye for art, I think. That description could be applied to her. She’s extraordinary. She would enjoy visiting art galleries. I could take her to the very best exhibitions. I’d really enjoy that. I’d enjoy hearing her opinion about all the different types of art I like to collect, oil paintings, water colors, sculptures, all sorts. She has such a witty, lively mind. I like that about her too.

It was great to take her soaring, and I was going to take her sailing next. I really like that about Ana, that she’s brave and adventurous, willing to try out new experiences, even though she looks like such a delicate little girl next to me. I like that about her too, and I like the feel of her small hand in mine. She makes me want to protect her and look after her. I’d really like to look after her properly.  

There are so many experiences we could have enjoyed sharing together. That would have been fun, fun for both of us. Now it’ll seem boring doing these things by myself. Everything is going to be so fucking boring without her. 

And none of these things have anything to do with sex, I realize.

Whatever I do to try and avoid the issue, I miss Anastasia desperately and I want her back. That is the simple, painful, honest truth. That’s why it hurts so much. You never know what you’ve got till it’s gone. With all my previous submissives, it was just about sex, but with Anastasia it is so much more than fucking, great though that was. 

I can always get a decent, no strings attached fuck of any type I choose, any time I want, no problem. All I have to do is contract a new sub. It would be so straightforward, none of this complicated, messy, emotional crap. Elena would even help me select one. So simple and easy. But it’s no longer what I want and holds no appeal for me whatsoever.

Anastasia. My girlfriend. 

That’s what I really, desperately want. I want my girlfriend back. Nothing else will do. Only her. I’m just an empty shell without her. I can see my life stretching ahead of me in an eternal chasm made up of perpetual night.

“Christian?”

I’m brought back to the present moment. I'm just standing there staring into the cupboard like a complete fucking retard.

“Never mind, coffee will be just fine,” Flynn quietly says, as he pours himself a cup. “So, how did you sleep last night?”

“How do you think?” I snap back, as I slam the cupboard door shut, and turn to face him. Pull yourself together, Grey, and stop mooning over her. She’s gone. You blew it.

“Your parasomnia still an issue?”

“I don't pay you to state the obvious. Of course it’s still a fucking issue. It’s just a good job I can function on a minimal amount of sleep.”

“And your nightmare – still the same one?”

“Yes, except that this time I realized... ” I can hardly bring myself to admit the significance of what I worked out. I feel sick to my stomach at what I'm about to confess.

“What? What happened that was different this time?”

“Nothing different, except that… the belt. The leather belt that the crack whore’s pimp always beat me with. I realized I have one just like it. And it’s the one I instinctively picked to punish Anastasia with. Out of everything in my playroom, that’s what I chose to hit her with. I automatically reached for that particular leather belt because it’s a favorite of mine. I’ve become him. I’m just as much a sick perverted bastard as he was, enjoying beating the shit out of her, just like he enjoyed beating me.”

“I see. And you find that idea repugnant?”

“Of course I do!”

“And yet no doubt you have used this belt many times before, along with all the other implements you have, on all your previous submissives?”

“Well, yes, of course, but it’s different with Anastasia.”

“Why? Why is it different with her?”

“Because… she’s different.”

“No, Christian, I would argue it’s because you see her differently, because of your feelings for her. I’m sure all your previous submissives were also intelligent, attractive young women, but because they were all compliant and had willingly signed a contract agreeing to your terms and conditions, you simply saw them as objects to be used for your sexual gratification. And because it was fully consensual, you felt no guilt or remorse in using them this way."

“So what are you saying about Anastasia?”

“I’m trying to get you to acknowledge that what you are feeling, that is your love for her, is already changing your perceptions. Because Anastasia doesn't find this type of extreme behavior acceptable, that affects you greatly. The process of change in you has already begun, whether you realize it or not. Can you really go back to how you were before? Would you be happy continuing in exactly the same way, having glimpsed the possibilities of another lifestyle? I think not. So why not embrace this change, the realization that you don't want to be this man who used a belt to inflict pain on a reluctant woman, one who subsequently found the whole experience to be profoundly upsetting? Seize this opportunity to work at finding a way forward with Anastasia, as clearly this is what you really want.”

“Of course it is, but…. how the fuck do I do it? I'm not even sure I can do it,” I whisper. Is there even a tiny glimmer of hope for me?

“Christian, if you decide to finally face up to your demons and make some changes, I will be there to support you every step of the way, to help you work towards your goals. I think initially, you will probably feel more comfortable about this process if we take a dialectical approach, a logical discussion of ideas and opinions. Maybe think of trying to work things out with Anastasia in practical terms, as a different type of contract to be negotiated. This really is a golden opportunity for you to finally move forward, if you can only be brave enough, and I urge you most strongly not to turn your back on it. In all the time you’ve been consulting me, you’ve just prevaricated and frustratingly never committed to make any kind of a real effort to deal with your issues. This really could be the best thing to have happened to you, the jolt that you needed to shake you out of your complacency and insistence that you can't change. Now, I'd like you to show me your playroom, if you would please.”

~~~

I unlock the door, and let Flynn walk in ahead of me.  

My playroom. Meticulously planned and laid out, no detail overlooked. When whipping, caning or giving any type of a beating, it takes a lot of skill and experience to expertly judge the correct placement and force of each strike, and the angle of the arm also has to be factored in. This makes the positioning of each piece of equipment, such as the whipping bench, very important. It needs to be positioned away from the wall, to allow a full arm swing if required for a heavier blow, rather than the flick of the wrist that’s used for a lighter touch.

Every piece of equipment in here is of the highest quality. I have every possible implement or toy that I could ever want to use. My own controlled, personal haven, where every hedonistic way of fucking is catered for. I fucking love it in here. 

Or at least I always have, until now.

Flynn wanders in and slowly looks around, not saying anything. 

Much the same reaction as Anastasia, the first time she walked in. I think it’s shock maybe. This is the first time I’ve been back in here since Anastasia left me, and it’s bringing back some very painful memories. It’s unsettling, which is not how I usually feel when I come in here. Normally, my playroom calms and reassures me because here, I am always totally in control. 

I stare at the whipping bench, remembering how Anastasia obediently lay supine over it for me. She looked so fucking amazing with that pretty ass of hers just waiting there for me to give her the punishment she so richly deserved. But that is no excuse, I should not have let myself zone out the way I did, to lose myself in the moment and not think of her needs as well as my own. It was unforgivable. Too true, Grey. Pity you didn’t think about that at the time. Now she won’t be able to forgive you, and you don't deserve her to. And she doesn't even know the worst about you yet, either. Just let her go.

“Interesting choice of color for the walls,” Flynn murmurs. 

“Almost a cocoon. Womb like. Very interesting indeed.”

He wanders over to the rack that holds my canes – one of every possible length and thickness. He tentatively touches them, then moves on to the mahogany chest of drawers. 

He looks over at me for permission to open a drawer, and I nod my consent. He looks in the various drawers in turn, giving the assorted toys -  butt plugs, anal beads, nipple clamps and pegs, vibrators - a quick perusal before gently closing each of them again. 

He doesn't ask for explanations of any of the toys, whether because he already knows, or whether because he would rather not know, I’m not sure. At this point I don't think it’s particularly relevant.

He glances up at the iron grid suspended from the ceiling, and then at the carabiners scattered across the ceiling. He looks over at the antique rococo four poster bed, with the chains and cuffs hanging from under the canopy. I love this bed. It’s a truly beautiful and stunning piece. It took me a long time to track it down, as genuine antique ones of that size and quality are really hard to come by. It might be a bed, but it’s not in any way cozy, as its purpose in here has never been for sleep. Fucking a spread eagled, shackled sub is what it’s for, like the truly amazing fuck I shared with Anastasia to Thomas Tallis on it. Christ, when she had her really intense orgasm that time, she looked so fucking beautiful. It was truly an awesome experience we shared. Never going to experience that with her again though are you?

“This room is hardly what most people would term a play room, Christian. My first impression is that it’s very intimidating, frightening even, and the fact that Anastasia didn’t immediately turn tail and run, says a lot about her strength of character. She is one brave young lady.” He’s looking at the whips that I have in the rack as he speaks, along with all the various paddles, floggers and riding crops.

But now my eyes are inexorably drawn over to the belt. That belt. The one that out of habit, I carefully replaced in its rightful place by the door, even in the state of shock I was in after Anastasia walked out on me. It’s a high quality, tan leather belt with a large buckle, exactly like the one in my nightmare. 

How had I not realized this before? Because you never stopped to think about it or analyze it before did you, Grey? But I’m sure no one ever minded it before, so I've never given it much consideration. No, because all your previous subs fucking loved a good hard strapping by a highly skilled, expert Dom like you, didn't they? Especially when you made them count and say ‘Thank you, Sir’, each time you hit them, each stroke leaving a lovely, large red welt as proof of your handiwork. Usually a nice round, even twenty times, wasn’t it? Anastasia’s minimal six strokes really were a gentle introduction for her, weren’t they? So, in your terms, you were being considerate of her. But that’s not how she saw things, and that’s what counts.

“After I’d hit her and she reacted so badly, she told me I needed to sort my sick shit out,” I whisper to John as I recall her words. “She was crying and really upset, and she asked if I got off on seeing her like that.”

“And do you?”

“No, not really, that’s not it. I get off on seeing her take the pain for me, and I really thought she was okay with it, that taking my punishment wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. I was wrong, but I just don't get why she didn’t safe word on me. Because then I would have stopped instantly, no question.”

“Maybe she was trying to be brave, to do this for you. You said Anastasia told you she loved you. Maybe she saw this as a way to try and prove her love for you.”

“Don’t bring love into this. It has no place here,” I tell him angrily.

“I agree, it is a hard concept in a room like this. For a man such as yourself, with a very strong need to control, this room is the ultimate in controlled ‘fucking’, to use your terminology. But as you have begun to discover for yourself, the act of sexual intercourse is far more pleasurable and satisfying when you actually care about the person you’re involved with. Making love instead of fucking is far more gratifying, whatever form that lovemaking may take."

I think back to all the different types of sex, including the vanilla, which I’ve enjoyed with Anastasia, and I know he’s right. There was always such an amazing bond and connection between us, however we fucked. We were so right together, we fitted, and we matched each other perfectly. She’s the one. She’s meant for you. She’s your mate. Your soul mate. Only you have ever taken her, and that’s how it should always be. No other man should ever experience being buried deep inside her. You have to claim her back. Make her yours again. 

Sex has never felt like that for me with anyone else before. It was on a different level to any other experience I’ve had– and I've had one hell of a lot. Anastasia has bewitched me, she’s cast some sort of a spell. Flynn calls it love, you jerk. What do you reckon?

“But I am what I am, John. And the thing is, some of the kink we’ve done, Anastasia’s really enjoyed, I know she has.” 

The silver balls, the erotic spanking, the riding crop, the flogger, being blindfolded – I’m certain she found these experiences to be extremely pleasurable and erotic. I really like that she’s been open minded about trusting me to do these things with her. Just a shame you exploited that trust and took things too far then, wasn’t it Grey?

“So maybe there’s a middle path. That’s what you will have to see if you can work out with Anastasia. That is your starting point, maybe, if you can get her to talk to you again.” Could we work something out? Is it possible?  

“I don't know. I mean, she’s just starting out on her first job tomorrow. Maybe I should just let her have a clean break, make a fresh start, forget about me,” I protest, although the words are hollow because I know I just can’t do that.

Flynn knows that too because he just looks at me with raised eyebrows and a sardonic smile.  

“Look, I suggest you let her settle in for her first day in her new job. Then maybe she’ll make contact with you. Didn’t you say she left her laptop behind, so she can’t email you? Maybe she’ll contact you from work; maybe she is having second thoughts?”

“No, I don’t think that’s the case. You didn’t see her face when she left. She’d made up her mind, she was adamant she wanted to cut all ties with me. I’m going to have to work very hard to convince her to even pass the time of day with me.” 

Although Taylor did say she was very upset when he took her back to her apartment, and he seemed to think I might still have a chance with her. What the fuck am I thinking here? Shit, since when do I take personal advice from my security detail?

“The first step is simply to try to open the channels of communication, Christian. Don't apply any pressure, just maybe ask how her first day at work went, that kind of thing. Take this right back to the beginning, to the basics. Boy meets girl. Boy asks girl on date. Think how it would be if you had just met, and there was no BDSM element. Try acting as if Anastasia is not a potential submissive, but a potential girlfriend, possibly something even more in the future.  I would suggest this is the most logical approach for moving forward from this impasse right now. ”

“I don't know. I’ll think about it.” I mutter, unconvinced.

~~~

And I do think about it. All day and all night. I think of little else. 

As per Flynn’s suggestion, I try a dialectical approach with myself, to concentrate on practical matters, to be logical, calm and reasonable in weighing up all the factors as to whether or not trying to win Anastasia back would be the right thing to do. 

Forgetting my wishes, would it be the best thing for her? Trying my hardest to put aside all my selfish personal feelings for now, I think about letting her go, to make a fresh start. I think long and hard about what this would mean in reality.

 I know for a fact that she has very little money, so she will struggle to achieve a decent standard of living, especially on the low starting wage SIP are paying her. She barely eats properly now, so once she’s paid her share of the rent and bills for the apartment she shares with Kate, she’ll have very little left for food or clothes. 

I know she really isn’t bothered by material things, and infuriating as that is at times, I also respect her for it. But it doesn't change the fact that I could so easily look after her if she would only let me, to ensure she at least eats well as a bare minimum. For fuck’s sake, I've got more money at my disposal than some countries.

SIP’s pay is way below what I pay my interns at Grey Enterprises, and with none of the additional benefits my staff enjoy. I wish she’d applied to my company, but of course she stubbornly refused to even consider working for me. Except that now she will be, as the takeover is going through, despite meeting with some hostility, thanks to some great work by Ros. Anastasia doesn't understand yet that I will always arrange matters to be in control, so that I can look after her and ensure her well-being, no matter how things turn out between us.

SIP’s pay structure is something I intend to review as soon as I get a chance. Pay peanuts, get monkeys. If you want the best staff, you have to offer decent incentives. At least by owning SIP, I will be able to monitor Anastasia’s progress, although I can't blatantly interfere, not yet anyway. 

But at least I can make sure she isn’t overlooked in her career progression, although I’m pretty certain a young woman with her abilities will do well in any case, so I don't intend to step in just yet. It’ll be fun to see her achieve things all on her own merit, wherever I can allow it.

But already I'm not happy to learn that her new boss is a guy, and he’s not much older than me. There is nothing in any of the intel on this Jack Hyde that has given Welch any great cause for concern, but my gut feeling about him is not good. It seems odd to me that none of his previous assistants have stayed in the job for very long, but there could be many innocent explanations for this, the crap pay being one of them. 

But without question, unless this Hyde fucker is gay, which it seems he isn’t, then he’s going to want into Anastasia’s panties – a beautiful, sexy young woman like her, how could he not? And Anastasia is so naïve, as her boss he’ll be able to play her so easily. 

She needs protecting. She needs me to protect her.

There there’s José fucking Rodriques. He couldn’t take care of her properly, he certainly isn’t right for her. I can't just stand back and let her ruin her life by getting into a relationship with him. She could do so much better. And that isn’t just my huge, mile wide, jealous streak speaking. Well okay it is, but I seriously don't think he offers her the best way forward to a good life. He wouldn’t make her happy.

So could I make her happy? Yes, I really think I could, if I can just shut down the monster within me. And it hits me with absolute blinding certainty that alleviating and avoiding the excruciating pain I've  been experiencing ever since she left me, is all the incentive I could ever need to wean myself off the punishment kicks I’ve always needed up till now. 

To get Anastasia back, I would do anything. 

To avoid feeling like this ever again, I would do anything she asked of me. 

Whatever more of me she wants, she can have. 

We can work this out. We will work this out. There has to be a way forward.

Now I’ve figured all this out, at least I have a goal. I know it won't be easy, but at least I have something to work towards, some hope. I am going to be a man on a mission, to convince Anastasia of my sincerity that I can change for her, that I want to change for her. 

I will win her back. Whatever it takes. However long it takes. I will do it.

When I see a call from Elena on my cell, I send it straight to voicemail, because I don't want her interfering and messing with my head again, now that I've figured this much out. I don't need her help with this. 

This is between Anastasia and me. I have to show Ana that I can do this. 

And I will.

Of course, now I have to get on with some work. I have many people depending on me. I can’t shirk my responsibilities any longer, just because I've been having some kind of a personal meltdown. I have to get on with things. It’ll be good for me. It’s Monday tomorrow. I need to get back into my normal routine, keep on top of everything. In control, as always.

The more I reflect and weigh everything up, the more obvious it becomes to me. Anastasia needs me. I have to put aside my selfish sadistic desires to become the man she needs to take care of her and look after her, to give her the kind of life she deserves and that I can so easily give her. 

I can look after her; I would always be truthful, honest and treat her with respect, and I would certainly never cheat on her, if she would only give me the chance to show her.  I have to show her that I can change, and I have to mean it. And I do mean it, with every fiber of my being.

 Winning her back has now become the most important deal I have ever tried to win in my whole life. This is the most important contract I have ever negotiated, and I am not going to give up on her without a fight. I will win her over, no matter what it takes. I have to.

~~~

I’m not a patient man. Normally I'm a pro-active kind of guy. I don't do waiting around for an email or a text. 

So I'm not in the best of moods when Monday morning passes by and I hear nothing from Anastasia, despite her having email access at work. Nothing at all from her. Now I'm worried that she really won’t be interested in hearing from me. 

I can feel despondency creeping in, but Flynn has counseled me to be patient, so I try my best. But every member of my immediate staff has felt the rough edge of my tongue by lunchtime, and I take myself off to the gym for a work out to ease my frustrations and prevent a mass walkout of my staff.

I look at the surveillance pictures of her making her way to work on the bus, because she doesn't have a car of her own any more, having stubbornly refused to take the Audi I gave her. Shit, even my junior staff  have an Audi available to them from the staff car pool, so it makes me fucking furious that she doesn’t, but at least it means she can't go far, I suppose. Every cloud…

 I know she never left her apartment even once over the weekend, meaning that she didn't eat out or buy any grocery supplies. Neither were any takeouts delivered. She looks pale and washed out, with dark circles under her eyes. I’m concerned when the team report she doesn't buy any food at lunchtime, only a latte. I know what she’s like. I'm certain now that she’s not eating properly at all. How long can I let this go on, before I have to do something? I have to strongly resist the urge to head over to see her and insist on seeing her eat something.

Her work emails at SIP are just routine admin shit – nothing of note. And the only calls on her cell are from her mom and Ray, who both leave voice mails, wishing her good luck for her first day at work. 

Clearly she hasn’t been in contact with either of them to tell them we’ve broken up. Is that a good sign? I’ve held back from telling my family, in the hope that we can work something out. There’s also a text from Kate, because she hasn't had a reply from Ana, scolding her because she assumes she's probably let her phone die again. She knows her friend only too well it seems.

Flynn rings me in the afternoon to see how I'm doing. I tell him I'm worried.

“Don’t panic, Christian. Give her time. Maybe arrange for some flowers for her when she gets home after her first day, to show you’ve been thinking about her. Just a friendly, no pressure gesture as an opener.”

Good plan. I decide to organize this important gesture myself, rather than delegating it to Andrea or Olivia, but then spend ages debating about what sort of flowers to send. My inclination is to send her a huge bouquet, but worry that may seem over the top and ostentatious for her more frugal tastes. Red roses perhaps? No, too clichéd and obvious. Finally, I settle on sending her two dozen long-stemmed, white roses. Hopefully she will like them. I try for casual and polite on the accompanying card. This is what I come up with after a ridiculous number of attempts.

Congratulations on your first day at work.

I hope it went well.

And thank you for the glider. That was very thoughtful.

It has pride of place on my desk.

Christian.

I know from the surveillance team that she gets the flowers soon after she gets in from work. But still I hear nothing from her that evening, or all day Tuesday, or Wednesday morning. No response at all. Nothing. This is not going to plan. This is not what I was hoping for. She really wants to cut all ties with me, but then just as I’m thinking it’s hopeless, Wednesday lunch time I see she gets a text from the photographer boy. She still hasn’t remembered that her old cell’s on divert to her new one.

He wants to know if she’s coming to the opening of his exhibition at the gallery in Portland on Thursday evening. He calls her ‘Babe’, and signs off with a kiss after his name. Back off, ass-hole. She’s not your ‘Babe.’ She’s not your anything.

Shit, I remember now she told me about this exhibition of  his photographs, and asked if I wanted to go with her. I recall how nervous she was about broaching the subject with me, as we stood in the shower together. I really love showering or taking a bath with her. I want to do that again with her – soon. I miss her so much. 

I certainly don't want her going off to see José fucking Rodriguez without me there. The thought of him trying it on with her again, forcing his tongue down her throat, and touching her inappropriately once she tells him we’ve broken up, makes me virtually insane with jealousy.

Fuck this laid back approach. I’ve waited long enough. She invited me along to the exhibition too, didn’t she? And I realize that I also have the perfect excuse to offer to take her, because she has no means of transport. Even Kate’s away, so she can't take her. Perfect. Now I'm glad she didn't take her Audi.

I email her, because of course I have her email address at SIP courtesy of Barney.

I try to keep it friendly and light hearted. I say I hope her job is going well, then pointedly ask if she got my flowers. It really was rather rude of her not to even acknowledge that she got them, especially as I know she has my number on her old cell phone. Then I offer to take her to the gallery opening of her friend’s show. I resist the temptation to type in ‘ass-hole’ but I can't bring myself to mention him by name. 

I hit send, and then sit back to wait for a reply. It seems like forever, but it actually only takes twenty minutes for me to finally hear from her. I practically weep with relief. Good job I'm by myself in my office, so no one sees me punch the air in relief, as I scream ‘YES’ at the screen.

Anastasia thanks me for the lovely flowers, and then says that she would appreciate a lift to the gallery opening. Her reply is short and to the point, but at least she has made contact and she has actually agreed to see me. I’m weak with relief. I’m going to see her, tomorrow. I'm actually going to see her. She’s agreed. 

I email her back straight away, to ask what time I should collect her. My delight in making these arrangements is soured somewhat by the fact that she has obviously finally realized that her cell is still on divert, and she must have made contact with the ass-hole, because she comes back with the start time of José’s show. 

I don't care what fucking time it starts, I'm picking her up as early as I possibly can. I know she finishes work at 5:30, so I suggest collecting her at 5:45. It is a long way to Portland, after all. 

And come what may, she will be eating dinner, even if I have to fucking well force feed her. 

I’m already trying to figure out the best mode of transport to ensure we have the maximum amount of time together, with the fewest opportunities for her to get away from me by walking off, if things don't go to plan. I can't have that happening. We have to work something out, or I am going to go totally crazy.

 I’m in a really good mood now, so I tell Andrea to book herself and Olivia in at the Esclava Beauty Salon for a massage, and any other beauty treatments they would like, and charge it all to me. She looks very surprised, but I think she works out that this is my way of apologizing for being such a shit of a boss these past few days.  

And so it begins. Tomorrow I will begin my mission to win Anastasia back.

End of Book 1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ym3VYNjWNhI Gaspard de la Nuit by Maurice Ravel. The Scarbo movement. 

I don’t own any of the Fifty Shades Trilogy or the characters therein. They belong to E L James. I’m just borrowing them for fun and not for profit. Please refer to the Legal’s page for further details. This work is not to be copied or reproduced in any way without permission. 

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