Chapter 35 - Fifty Shades of Harlot Red

“I think you’re in need of intense therapy,” Anastasia states.

I’ve found her lying on the bed in her room, studying the screen of her MacBook intently, so I join her on the bed to see what she finds so interesting. Turns out she’s researching the symptoms of Multiple Personality Disorders. I’m her new pet project apparently. 

She describes me as a fucked up, mercurial, control freak, and I can’t really argue with that. If she lived to be a thousand years, I don't think she’d ever get to the bottom of my ‘difficult personality’. But it’s sweet of her to want to try.

Having briefed the new security team, I’ve left Taylor in charge to go through all the finer details with them. He’s under strict instructions that under no circumstances am I to be disturbed this afternoon, unless it’s something that really can’t wait until I’m available again. He understands – this used to be our standard protocol at weekends when I took my sub into my playroom. 

Life was much simpler back then. No crazy lady with a gun on the loose in those days. So I'm pretty sure he's quite happy that Ana and I are going to be safely ensconced in the bedroom, out of harm’s way for this afternoon at least - makes his job a hell of a lot easier.

I want to relax and spend the afternoon with Anastasia, because I have something I want to try with her. Something I’m hoping will show her that I'm really serious about wanting more. And I'm just hoping I can go through with my plan, that I’m strong enough to tolerate it.

“I think I'm in need of you. Here.” 

I hand her the Harlot Red lipstick that Taylor’s gotten for me. 
He knows better than to ask why I wanted it, but no doubt his imagination went into overdrive, especially as he’s aware I'm spending the afternoon locked away with Anastasia, even if it's not in my playroom. 

As he’s been in a relationship with Gail for some time now, I’m assuming he’s a normal red blooded male, although I’ve never yet caught him watching porn, as a lot of security guys do in the wee small hours to pass the time - Taylor is always the total professional, with his mind fully on the job. 

Perhaps he’s assuming I have a new lipstick fetish along with all my other weird kinky shit. It would be a pretty harmless kink in comparison to the rest I guess, but I’ve always preferred a more natural look for my women. Pale, innocent looking, young brunettes have always been your thing, Grey. Well, since Elena. No way could she ever have been described as innocent looking.

Ana stares at the lipstick in bewilderment. She doesn’t wear heavy duty lipstick like this, just occasionally a light lip gloss. I like her natural look. I like her natural, unspoiled beauty. Basically, I like everything about her.

“You want me to wear this?” she asks in disbelief, frowning at the color.

“No, Anastasia, not unless you want to. Not sure it’s your color.” Fuck, but that shade of red would look nice around your nipples though. Maybe we could try that sometime. It’d be great kinky fuckery play, and not painful in any way. Hell yeah. But back to the matter in hand, Grey.

I sit up on the bed and take my shirt off.

“I like your road map idea,” I explain. She looks at me blankly. “The no-go area.”

“Oh. I was kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“You want me to draw on you, with lipstick?”

“It washes off. Eventually.” Knowledge gained from past experience. Elena always wore that type of lipstick.

I can see Ana’s face light up as she works out what I'm offering. I’m going to educate her, show her where she can touch me. She smiles. She likes the plan. I like making her smile like that. Reminds me of the photographer boy’s picture.

“What about something more permanent like a Sharpie?” she jokes. I think it’s just a joke anyway.

“I could get a tattoo,” I offer. But this really is just a joke. My brother might have a tattoo, but it’s never really been my thing. I think he only had his done, because his girlfriend at the time was really into them and persuaded him to have a Celtic design done on his back that supposedly represented a special meaning about their relationship – one that, typically for Elliot, barely lasted a couple of weeks.

My parents don't approve of tattoos, especially Mom, who quotes all sorts of health risks that they can pose. Tramp stamps, she calls them, and Mia was always absolutely forbidden to get one, or to have any piercings. 

So naturally, the first thing Mia did as soon as she was old enough, was to get her belly button pierced.  It got badly infected and was really sore and painful, so she ended up having to have the bar surgically removed. Mia lost interest in being rebellious after that. 

 Elliot didn’t tell Mom about his tattoo for ages, not until we were all going on vacation together and he knew she’d see it. She was distinctly unimpressed with him, but was reassured that at least it was somewhere that didn’t show most of the time.

“No to the tattoo!” Ana seems horrified. Guess she’s not into tattoos – so she’s with Mom on this one.

“Lipstick, then.” I grin. “Come, sit on me.”

Ana clambers over and sits astride me.

“Lean against my legs.” I’ve got my knees bent up. Ana is practically bouncing with excitement as she quickly complies.

“You seem – enthusiastic for this.”

“I'm always eager for information, Mr. Grey, and it means you’ll relax, because I’ll know where the boundaries lie.”

This is going to be a novel experience. Another first for us.  I just hope I can hold my nerve. I’ve never confronted this particular demon in this way before, and part of me wonders if I'm completely mad to be doing this. But it’s too late. I can’t back out now, not seeing how keen Ana is.

What would Flynn make of this? I’ve acted impulsively today, so I've not discussed it with him, but I think he’d tell me that if I want my relationship with Ana to progress, I'm going to have to find a way to let her touch me, as clearly this is very important to her. As she pointed out earlier, I’d hate it if I couldn’t touch her.  

One step at a time, that’s what he’s always telling me. This is the first step. Let Ana know the exact boundaries of my forbidden zone.

But I have to feel in control. I need Ana to carefully follow my precise instructions, or this isn’t going to work and I’ll end up freaking out. Then we’ll be back to square one, worse off than before.

“Open the lipstick,” I order her. “Give me your hand.” She gives me the wrong one. “The one with the lipstick.” Why would I want the other one? I roll my eyes at her.

“Are you rolling your eyes at me?”

“Yep.”

“That’s very rude, Mr. Grey. I know some people who get positively violent at eye rolling.”

“Do you now?” Provides a damn fine excuse for a spanking.

She gives me her hand with the lipstick, and I sit up so we’re nose to nose. I need to have total control of her hand and where it goes.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

I take a deep breath. I try my hardest to shut off the memories that always resurface the instant I sense anyone near those areas of my body where the crack whore's pimp… 

Fuck, this is hard. I close my eyes. I don't want to remember the searing, excruciating pain he inflicted on me, time after time, the feeling of total and utter helplessness I experienced, because there was nothing, nothing at all that I could do to stop him, and there was no one to help me, no matter how much I begged and pleaded. 

Well, there was, but she was either in a drug induced stupor, or beaten senseless – I didn’t always know the difference.

But one thing I did know. He was always totally and utterly in control. He’d decide how much pain he was going to give me. He’d decide when it was time to finally stop, because he’d gotten bored of torturing a pathetic, sniveling little boy.

Until the next time.

And I never knew when that would be, so I lived in terror of hearing his footsteps approaching, the door opening, and him seeking me out, because there was nowhere for me to hide from him, however hard I tried. And believe me, I tried really hard to make myself invisible. But I always failed. He always found me.

So, ever since I escaped from that living hell, part of my coping mechanism has been to avoid all potential memory triggers, by not allowing anyone to touch me where he did. Being touched there equates to extreme pain and torture in my mind.  

Even worse, it makes me feel out of control.

So that's the other major component of my coping mechanism. Being in total and utter control of every aspect of my life. 

Everything. Totally. Controlled.

Also, I always keep myself very fit and strong, so that no one can physically overpower me. This is not a problem, because I relish hard physical exercise.  I enjoy pushing myself to the limit of what I can do, whether it’s running, weight lifting or kick boxing. It also helps to dispel frustration and excess energy, especially of the sexual kind.

So I’ve found that if I take all these measures, the memories don't surface so often. They still emerge now and again in my nightmares, usually when some aspect of my life feels out of control.  I fucking hate feeling that way. That’s why I go to such extraordinary lengths to avoid being in that situation. In control, always. That’s the Christian Grey way.

Until now, these coping mechanisms have worked well enough for me. Inevitably, it has meant keeping just about everyone literally at arm’s length, even my family, although I am more relaxed with Mia, because as my baby sister, I guess she never posed any kind of threat to me.

I eventually allowed Elena to figure out how to touch me in a way I found acceptable - because I desperately wanted the sexual experiences she was offering me. It was a very powerful incentive for a teenage boy with a very high sex drive. 

But even Elena had to stick to the set boundaries, which she did, so in time I relaxed with her. After our affair finished, having set agreed limits and rules with an obedient submissive worked perfectly adequately to serve my demanding sexual needs. 

Tightly bound up, not allowed to look at me without permission, taking them in my preferred position of fucking hard from behind - I was always in complete control of my sub. Life was running smoothly and according to plan.

Until I met Anastasia. She has turned my carefully controlled world upside down. And much to my immense surprise, because of her, I’ve found I like my world being upside down.

 So this is why I'm sitting here with her on my lap, about to let her draw stupid fucking lipstick boundaries on my body.

I know I have to do this for her if I want us to have any kind of future together. 

So now she’s right up close to me, nose to nose, and I take a deep breath to inhale her scent. Her wonderful natural smell always calms me, and it doesn’t fail now.

I guide her hand with the lipstick up to the curve of my shoulder.

“Press down.” I guide her hand down, drawing the line of red lipstick from the top of my shoulder, around my arm socket, then down the side of my chest. I stop at the bottom of my ribcage, then direct her hand across my stomach.

I slowly exhale, and then take another deep breath. I’m using every ounce of self-control not to react as I normally would, to push her away and throw her off me. We continue up the other side of my body, and I let her hand go, so she can mirror the line on the other side. I have to show I trust her, but I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead from the effort.

“There, done,” she whispers tenderly. There is such compassion shining in her eyes, because she can see what this is costing me. But there’s no point stopping now and leaving the job half undone. We must continue and go the whole way.

“No, you’re not.”  I trace a line with my finger around the base of my neck, and she dutifully continues the lipstick line.

“Now my back,” I whisper hoarsely. I’m hanging on to my control by a bare thread here, as she moves off my lap so that I can turn round for her. It’s even worse when I can’t see what she’s doing.

“Follow the line from my chest, all the way round to the other side.”

Once again, she wordlessly complies, seeming to understand that I can’t talk, because I have to concentrate all my energy on just getting through this. But I hear her sharp intake of breath as she sees the scars on my back close up, and I sense her emotional response. But she wisely makes no comment. It would be far too difficult for either of us to vocalize our feelings and thoughts during this intensely personal moment we’re sharing.

“Around your neck, too?”  she quietly murmurs.

I just nod, and she draws another line joining the first around the base of my neck beneath my hair.

“Finished,” she whispers, and I finally let myself relax in sheer relief. It’s done. One part of my fuckedupness now clearly marked out for her to see. I turn back round to face her.

“Those are the boundaries.”

“I can live with those,” she whispers huskily. “Right now I want to launch myself at you.”

So she’s not put off. She still wants me – I can see that in her wonderful eyes. They never lie to me. My wonderful sweet girl has not run out of the door screaming at the weirdness of all this.

So I smile my best seductive smile, and hold my hands up in surrender to her.

“Well, Miss Steele, I’m all yours.” For you, sweet Anastasia, it was worth it. Fortune favors the brave. So now I’d really like to fuck you. Please.  

Ana squeals and throws herself into my arms, knocking me flat. I catch her and twist her so she’s beneath me on the bed.

“Now, about that rain check.”

~~~

Our love making has a desperation about it. I think Ana wants to show how much she appreciates the effort I’ve made by letting her road map me. I want to show her that it means the world to me that she can accept a broken, fucked up man like me. She is so incredible and amazing.  I want her to know that every part of me now belongs to her. I am hers. She is mine.

I don't want any barriers to stop me worshipping her body. I want to feel her, all of her. Once I’ve discarded her T shirt and bra, I set to work on adoring her breasts, caressing and teasing them with my fingers and my mouth until she cries out. I want to hear her responding to my touch, to know she’s feeling what I'm feeling.

This is going to be quick, it’s going to be fast and furious. I slip my hand inside her jeans, then inside her panties, to check how ready she is for me. She’s fucking soaking. She wants me, she really wants me, just as I want her. That’s what I needed to know. That’s how I know we’re okay. We are so good together, always. 

When I slip my finger inside her, she responds instantly by pushing her hips up, trying to get me into her deeper still.

“I want you,” she whispers urgently. We feel the same.

I sit up and pull her jeans and panties off. Then I get the condom packet out of my pocket, and throw it over to her to undo, while I remove my jeans and boxers. I look into her eyes the whole time, seeing my intense desire reflected in hers. We feel the same.  She reaches up to slowly roll the condom onto my length. Then I grab her and roll onto my back, taking her with me.

“You. On top. I want to see you.”

I’ve got her straddling me now, so I help ease her down onto my aching cock. I close my eyes as I flex my hips to get deeper into her. I want to possess her totally. Fuck, that feels good. She feels tight and hot and wet around me as I thrust right in.  So fucking good. She’s totally filled by me and I'm totally surrounded by her. We couldn’t fit together more perfectly if we’d been purposely engineered by the Almighty himself.

But old habits die hard - I still feel the need to take hold of her hands. We’ve made a good start today, but it’s going to take some time for me to really let go of my deep rooted issues for good. One step at a time – Flynn.

“You feel so good,” I whisper.

She rides me, working herself up and down on my length as I watch her. This is so erotic, watching her use me to pleasure herself, seeing the look on her face, as she bites her lip and softly moans.

 But I still want more. So now I let go of her hands and grab her hips.  She holds onto my arms to balance. Safe area. I thrust into her hard, really hard and deep, making her cry out. Take all of me, baby. It’s all for you.

“That’s right, baby, feel me.”

Ana throws her head back as I continue to drive into her. We move together, her movements matching mine, as we start really building and climbing together. It’s good, so fucking good this way.  I love watching her reactions, and her uncontained sensual pleasure. We’re very close now.

“My Ana.”  You are mine, you belong only to me.

“Yes, always.”  Always, yes.

We fly over the edge together.

“Oh, baby,” I groan loudly as I come, while Ana calls out in a totally unrestrained and joyous way as she orgasms. 

The new security team will have little doubt about what's going on in here. In my experience, those guys have almost supernatural hearing. Requirement of the job. 

Then we’re collapsed together in a heap on the bed, trying to catch our breath. She’s lying on my chest, but she keeps still, so I can just about tolerate it. Having her on me this way means I can stroke her hair and caress her silky back, so I like it.

“You are so beautiful.”

She lifts her head to give me a very skeptical look. She doesn't believe me. I sit up and hold her tightly, so we’re nose to nose again.

“You. Are. Beautiful.”

“And you’re amazingly sweet sometimes.” She gently kisses me. 

She thinks I’m saying it just to be nice to her - she really doesn’t get it does she? No vanity, no false modesty, she genuinely doesn’t see herself as beautiful. What on earth has led to this low self-esteem, this lack of confidence about her looks, when she is so fucking beautiful that I can’t take my eyes off her? She is totally mesmerizing.

I lift her off me as I ease out of her. She winces – I hope she’s not sore. I hope I'm not being too demanding with her, but I just can’t help how much I want her, all the time. And she wants me too.

“You have no idea how attractive you are, do you?” I kiss her gently as she flushes in her discomfort at my compliment. “All those boys pursuing you – that isn’t enough of a clue?”

“Boys? What boys?” Are you blind, woman? So many of them drooling over you and you haven’t even noticed?

“You want the list? The photographer, he’s crazy about you, that boy in the hardware store, your roommate’s older brother. Your boss.”

Just thinking about all these guys wanting her makes me rage with jealousy, and yet she is totally unaware and naïve about the effect she has on the opposite sex. 

This makes her vulnerable. She doesn’t understand that they all get an instant hard on just looking at her, and would love to get into her panties if she gave them the slightest encouragement. She just doesn’t get how a guy’s brain works in that way. 

But being a guy, I get it only too well. She thinks they all just want to be her friend. Yeah right. But I know better; I know exactly what they’re thinking and I know they all want to fuck her. So I have to protect her.

“Oh Christian, that’s just not true.”

“Trust me. They want you. They want what’s mine.” And no fucking way am I ever going to allow that to happen. You are mine. I protect what is mine.

I pull her closer to me, and she reaches up to run her fingers through my hair. Her expression tells me she’s still skeptical.

“Mine,” I state as I possessively tighten my grip around her.

“Yes, yours,” she smiles. She might be naïve about men, but I know I can trust her totally. That is a good feeling to have. 

Because of my stalkerism, I've learnt that she’s always honest with me. I also know that she wouldn’t cheat - it's just not in her nature, it's not who she is. I just have to protect her from all the other fuckers waiting in line to seize their chance with her.

But if I thought letting Ana road map me would be sufficient to quell her insatiable curiosity, and her need to touch me, I was wrong.

“The line is still intact. I want to go exploring,” she murmurs as she traces the mark on my shoulder. I can’t help myself; I react instinctively by tensing up.

“The apartment?” I try to distract her, knowing it’s futile. But it reminds me that I haven’t actually shown her round the entire apartment yet. I’ll have to get round to it.

It’s clear that she is just dying to touch me. Can I do this? I want to let her, to please her, but will it prove too much for me to handle?

“What would that entail exactly, Miss Steele?” Forewarned is forearmed.

She softly runs her fingertips down my face.  I like her soft touch here. I find it calming.

“I just want to touch you everywhere I’m allowed.”

As her finger passes my mouth, I grab it with my teeth to gently bite her while I'm thinking if I can do this for her.

“Ow.”

I take a deep breath. “Okay.”  

I can do this. As I release her finger, I focus my mind so I can do as she wants. I guess I should be glad that she wants to know more about me, to touch and feel me. So I figure I have to let her.

But first I need to get sorted out, get rid of the rubber I’ve still got on my dick. I shift her over so I can remove it and drop the disgusting thing on the floor.

“I hate those things. I’ve a good mind to call Dr. Greene around to give you a shot.” Just testing the waters – I’ve already got the Doc provisionally lined up to call in tomorrow, but I can always cancel if Ana blows a fuse at the idea. 

“You think the top ob-gyn in Seattle is going to come running?” Oh yes, baby, for another obscene fee and donation to her charity of choice, Dr. Greene is prepared to make another house call.

“I can be very persuasive,” I murmur.

As Ana hasn’t blown a fuse, I think we’re good to go ahead with the doctor calling in tomorrow. Time to get something better than condoms sorted, something more permanent. But I think it’s best to quit while I'm ahead, so I quickly change the subject.

“Franco’s done a great job on your hair. I like these layers.”

“Stop changing the subject.”  No fooling her, is there? Ana thinks I'm trying to avoid letting her touch me. Well, she’s partly correct.

I shift her so she’s straddling me again, resting on my propped up knees. I lean back on my arms, and prepare myself for the worst.

“Touch away.”  Shit, I feel really uncomfortable and uneasy about this, but I know I have to let her do it.

She keeps eye contact with me, as she traces the line of lipstick across my abdomen. She’s staying within the boundary, but I still can’t help flinching at how close she is to my forbidden zone.

“I don't have to,” she whispers, frowning with worried concern.  Her sweet, caring tenderness makes me more determined to carry on.

“No, it’s fine. Just takes some… readjustment on my part. No one’s touched me for a long time,” I try to explain.

“Mrs. Robinson?”

I nod.“I don't want to talk about her. It will sour your good mood.”

“I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t, Ana. You see red whenever I mention her. My past is my past. It’s a fact.  I can’t change it. I'm lucky that you don't have one. Because it would drive me crazy if you did.”

I’d have to go and beat the living shit out of any other man who’d… I can’t even let myself think about it. It just makes me see red too. So I guess I can’t really blame Ana for how she feels about Elena – but what can I do? Like I told her – I can’t change the past.

“Drive you crazy? More than you are already?” She smiles at me.

“Crazy for you,” I whisper.

“Shall I call Dr. Flynn?”

“I don't think that will be necessary.” He already knows how crazy I am.

She shifts back and I drop my legs down. She puts her hand back on my stomach and slowly, lightly moves her fingers across my skin. I can’t help it – I tense up again.

“I like touching you,” she murmurs, as she starts moving her hand down to an area I'm much more comfortable about her touching. Oh yes, I’m up for this sort of attention in an instant. Literally. 

And so the rest of the afternoon passes very satisfactorily indeed. 

Overall, I'm pretty satisfied with how things have gone this afternoon. Anastasia is familiar with my boundaries. She was so incredibly sensitive and understanding in how she handled this, so now I can hopefully be more relaxed with her.  As I keep discovering over and over again, she really is one amazing young woman.

And later on, after we've both showered and I walk in on her getting ready for the masked ball, I'm reminded all over again that she is an incredibly beautiful woman, and that I am a truly lucky man.

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.