Fifty Shades of Dark Pink

I'm Anastasia Steele, and I'm sure you all know my story quite well. However, there is a more recent incident involving Christian that you haven't heard about yet. My motives and actions will become clearer as I get further into my story.

By the way, call me Ana; Anastasia can be a bit of a mouthful, and even Christian uses that in most of his conversations with me.

If I may indulge in a digression, I was indeed named after the Grand Duchess Anastasia, the youngest daughter of the last Russian Tsar, Nicholas II. She and the rest of her family were killed by the Bolsheviks in 1918.

I was the opposite of a "red diaper baby," my parents, oddly enough, being proponents of monarchism. Of course, any real aristocrats would have laughed at their pretensions.

So let's get back on track.

One Saturday afternoon I was sitting on a sofa in our Manhattan penthouse, awaiting Christian's return. My clothes were a rather standard dark gray business suit, a white blouse, nylon stockings, and middle-height black heels. My skirt was a on the short and tight side.

My brown hair was pulled up so that it was in a bun at the back of my head; my make-up was well done but subtle.

The most notable thing in my possession was an item I had borrowed from Christian's "playroom." It was a medium-length tawse, a leather spanking belt that had been invented in the British Isles -- Scotland at first, I believe.

The business end of these things are divided into two or three leather "tongues," I would call them; mine had three. The other end had a wooden handle so that the person wielding it could have a proper grip when swinging it against someone's behind.

When Christian walked into the apartment, I was holding my tawse in my right hand and tapping it against my left one. My right leg was crossed over my left knee.

He was about the say something when he saw me and he stopped in the middle of the room. Before he could react, I said, "Christian, don't sit down right now. I have something important to talk to you about."

I suspect that he was so unprepared for me to tell him what to do that he, well, just did what I had requested. Without thinking about it, perhaps, he put his hands into his trouser pockets.

I quietly but firmly said, "Take your hands out of your pockets."

He did that, and he folded his hands in front of this body. Yet he had gotten over his initial surprise and he smiled at me.

"Ana, I see you have borrowed one of my toys from the playroom."

"I wouldn't call it a toy. It's an implement, a tool with a very specific purpose."

"Do you even know what it is called?"

"Of course, it is a tawse."

"Very good. Now, would tell me what inspired you to retrieve it?"

It was obvious from his expression that he didn't take me seriously; he thought that it was all some kind of elaborate joke. Boy, was he ever wrong.

I said, "Bear with me, this is going to take a bit of explaining."

"That's fine; I'm not going anywhere."

"You certainly are not going anywhere."

He frowned at that, but I had my response ready. "I admit that I look at some porn sites; I know that you do too. Usually, I prefer photos to videos, but that isn't the main point."

"I have no objection to you looking at porn."

"There is a specific type I am talking about, usually categorized as domination or BDSM. I don't mean those where people have themselves wrapped in cellophane or whatever."

"Even I don't understand the motivations behind those."

"In any case there are many photos and videos dedicated to, let's call it, spanking, discipline, correction, and so forth. There are men dominating women, women doing it to men, same gender combinations of male on male, female on female, even transgender, which might be called a category in itself. It's a very varied assortment."

"I am familiar with most of that."

I had a very clear idea of what I would say that day. "It struck me what an amazing variety of positions and scenarios there are, and whether people are restrained are not. I suppose I don't need to describe all of the possible scenes."

Christian could be quite perceptive at times. "I gather that you have been imagining yourself as a dominatrix."

"Yes, you are quite sharp. Not the black-leather kind, but more like the strict manager or professor type. Or the strict girlfriend type." I made a gesture to indicate the clothes I was wearing.

He tried to make light of it. "Is that the way you see our relationship, as boyfriend and girlfriend? What, are we going to the prom next?"

I stood up suddenly and stepped towards him. It was subtle, but he flinched a bit and moved slightly backwards. I realized that I gesturing using the tawse.

"Girlfriend is a fair approximation I suppose. The thing is, Christian, I have a bone to pick with you."

At some point on an earlier day, he had slipped up and admitted that his mother had used that expression and he had hated hearing it. He got quite defensive. "Haven't I given you everything you ever wanted? I even set you up in your own publishing company."

"Yes, and that was just darling of you, but there is more than that. You see, you have become rather arrogant and you think I am subordinate to you in some way. You need to be taken down a few pegs." That was a rather silly way to put it, but it was the best phrase I could come up with.

"I don't agree with that at all." Then he made another weak statement. "And you have certainly gone along with everything I've proposed that we do."

"That is true, but I've been thinking it over." I put the folded-up tawse against the bottom of his chin. "Christian, you have been very good at dishing it out, but you haven't taken any of it yourself."

He knew what I was talking about. "You mean my dominance, as you would put it."

"You were the one to come up with that word, not me. The time has come, for the good of both of us, to even that out."

He tried a sneering act, but he didn't do it very well. "I suppose you think that you can just do whatever you wish?"

"I don't just think it, I know it. I mean, you do whatever you wish."

Rather than explaining that more explicitly, I went off on a digression. I looked down at the belt and said, "In Scotland and I guess later in England, they would give offenders thirty-six strokes of the tawse on their exposed buttocks."

For some reason, I liked the term exposed buttocks. I continued, "Maybe it's apocryphal, but supposedly they would have a smooth stone there so that those who had been whipped could cool off their blazing backsides."

"Sounds like a legend to me."

"Whatever, listen to me for a moment. There's an instructive spanking video I've seen online. It's supposed to be in Edwardian England, I guess, and it shows this headmistress lady punishing one of her female students."

"With a tawse, I assume."

"Very good. Now this student was West Indian or something. She was about twenty or so, and she was smaller than her formidable-looking teacher. She had to lift up her skirt, open up the back of her bloomers, and take eighteen tawse strokes on her bare behind."

He said, "So you must have gotten aroused by watching this. Who did you identify with, the teacher or the student?"

"Both, actually, depending on what mood I'm in."

He was obviously surprised to hear that. Christian, you don't know me as well as you think. I moved yet closer to him, and damn, he moved back a half-step again. "Christian, look at me -- right in the eyes."

I could see both nervousness and anticipation in his expression, which I had expected. He was a bit flummoxed too, but he didn't want to admit to it. He put on a stern front, which seemed faked. "Why should I put up with this, this..." He couldn't come up with the right word.

"Discipline, I'd call it. There are two reasons. First, because I want to do it to you. The second is that you want me to do it too."

"That's complete..." I think he wanted to say bullshit but it came out as "poppycock."

I had to laugh at that, and I replied. "Don't lie to me, or to yourself. I can tell by looking at you that are intrigued by this and that you are even going to enjoy it."

I continued, "That student, even her teacher was impressed by her stoicism. She hissed and groaned a bit, but she stayed there and took her spanking without too much fuss. The teacher said something like, 'You are taking this quite bravely. I hope you continue to make me proud of you.' "

"That sounds a bit weird to me." I knew the only reason he said that was because he was going to be on the receiving end this time.

I said, "The point of that story is that she took her punishment well. Meanwhile, you are a much larger, strapping young gentleman. Do you mean to say that you are afraid of a little spankie from a mere girl like me? Please, take it like a man. You're not going to go all chickenshit on me, are you?"

I knew that appeal to his male ego was going to work, but he had one last objection. "This is going to be humiliating."

He had agreed to my wishes without explicitly saying so. "Christian, I hope you are going to make me proud too." I winked at him, "And after you are aroused, which I'm sure you will be, I'll give you a sexual release at the end."

His curiosity got to him, "And what would that be>"

"Oh, let's not spoil the surprise."

I knew I had made my pitch, and like any good salesperson, I wouldn't say anything more until the customer said something first. I had my sale and I waited for him to confirm it.

Christian looked away and I knew he was pondering the situation. He then smiled and said, "All right, I'll humor you, if you wish to indulge in silly little games."

"Good, then let's get to this right now."

I quickly removed my suit jacket and tossed it on the sofa behind him. That was purely a bit of theater to show him that I was serious.

"I tell you how it's going to go. You are to turn around and lower your trousers. Then you will bend over that sofa behind you. To brace yourself, you will hold on to the back cushion."

He was still smiling, "So you have this all planned out."

"Of course. Now are you going to take your pants down or do I have to do that for you?"

"I am perfectly capable of taking my own pants down." Then he turned around and started to unbuckle them.

I admit that I wasn't sure I'd get that far with him. Yet, I knew him quite well. I had detected a reverse kind of perversity within him, a masochistic side that he probably was barely conscious of himself. Many dominants are secretly fascinated with the idea of being submissive too.

"Christian, drop your underpants too. Pull everything below the knees" He made an exasperated noise, but he did just that. Then, without me having to remind him, he leaned forward and put his hands on the back of the couch.

"Now, you're getting eighteen stokes like the girl in the video did."

He replied, "I'm always amazed at the ideas that women come up with." He had revealed more than he had intended with that statement.

For a moment I gazed at this body. Then I stepped forward, and I began to gently rub him with my left hand. I squeezed one butt cheek and then moved down the back of the thigh, and then did the same to the other side. He said something like, "Oh."

"So you do like my touch? You have such a taut, firm rear end; it's a pity that I have to punish it so harshly." His balls and his cock looked vulnerable as they hung down between his legs. I was going to be careful not to strike those during the session.

Then I said, "Have you ever received corporal punishment before?"

"I'm not going to answer that."

Instead of arguing with him, I said, "You do remember our safe phrase, don't you?"

"Of course, I remember it, it's Dinty Moore." I smiled; I was the one who had chosen that. It was the brand of canned beef stew I had sometimes been served by my mother.

Then, without any warning, I swiped the tawse across his hindquarters from right to left. The blow was about as hard as the ones I saw that British teacher using in the video. He made a noise like "ompth" and his knees folded.

"Come on Christian, stay in position; get back up. You can make some sounds, of course; I can't expect that you wouldn't."

He did exactly as I had asked, but I heard him mutter something I couldn't hear. Rather than ask him to repeat himself, I smacked him again, going in the opposite direction, left to right. He said something like, "E-e-sh," but he didn't drop like he had before.

It was time for some chiding, the verbal part of such sessions being as important as the physical part. "You have been very impertinent, Christian, and it's time you learned a bit of humility."

"But you wanted me to..."

Before he could complete his statement, I whacked him a third time. "I would prefer that you let me finish without interrupting me."

That time, he has quiet, but I still gave him the fourth blow before continuing, "I know what you are going to say, that I submitted to you and even enjoyed it. But you took it too far, you became arrogant and you disrespected me."

"I don't know what you mean."

I smacked him again, "You get that, don't you?"

"That really hurts."

My response was so trite but perfect. "It's supposed to hurt; that's why it's a spanking."

During the next few, I said nothing. My strokes weren't too fast, but they were hard enough to make a serious impact.

"Ana, how many was that, anyway?"

"Nine, I'm keeping track. You are fortunate that I'm not asking you to thank me each time. That's what that English girl had to do, but I forgot that detail."

"Lucky for me, I suppose."

For his insolence, number ten was more vigorous. He put his right hand back to protect himself.

"Get your hand down or I'll smack it too. And I don't want to hear any more of that snotty attitude."

Yet I stopped for a moment to assess how the event was going. Christian was breathing heavily. As for myself, I was getting intense pussy tingles. Like a door buzzer pressed continuously; that was the analogy that came to me.

As I started up again, I put my left hand on his back under this shirt and pressed down.

There is something very sexy about touching a man while also strapping him. I had surmised that from various photos and drawings I had seen. A dominatrix could be quite tender with her touches from one hand while being quite forceful while spanking with the other.

Then I was quiet as I continued the discipline. After a few more, he complained, "Ana, am I really getting the full eighteen?"

"Yes, I already said that if that girl can take it, you can too. Now stop whining or I'll give you a couple of extra hits.

I looked again to make an assessment. His legs were quivering a bit, and his ass was a vivid dark pink verging on red. "Only four more. Be brave, as that lady said."

Yet he was grunting each time with those four. I decided to be merciful and I didn't comment on his condition. One of those last ones caught the top of his left thigh, and he yelped at that. But I had missed his testicles, which I had been careful to do.

When I was finished, I said, "You may stand up now and comfort yourself."

He immediately stood straight and grabbed his own behind, rubbing it an attempt to ease his pain. "Jesus, Ana, what have you done to me?"

Rather than answer him immediately, I stepped to his left side and looked down at the front of his body. His cock was hugely erect, and not just sticking forward but tilted slightly upwards too.

"What have I done to you? Well, my God, Christian, you have the stiffest boner I have ever seen on you, and you know that was all my doing. But you know what else?" I lowered my voice, although no one could overhear us. "The thing is, my pussy is ringing like a fire alarm too."

Another bad analogy, but he looked back at me with some surprise.

Before he could say anything, I continued, "But I've already admitted that I knew it would happen to me, didn't I? But first things first. Instead of corner time, you are going to have sofa time. Lean forward as you were before; I want to see exactly what I've done to you."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I haven't kidded with you about anything yet, have I? Now be a good and bend over."

He obviously didn't like that, but he did do as I had asked. I suspect he was concerned that I might beat him further if he didn't comply.

I assessed his whipped ass, and I noted that the belt stroke marks had blended into each other so that I couldn't really distinguish one from another. The exception was the outlier I mentioned, the one near the top of his thigh.

"I certainly did a good job on you. But Christian, you didn't take it perfectly, but I'm still proud of you anyway."

That was a provocation, I knew. He said, "Like I care."

"Oh, but I do." I was tempted to give him a couple of light hand spanks, but I decided against it. Instead, I gently rubbed his ass.

"Sheesh, Ana, that's pretty tender back there."

"I know, I can feel how hot your flesh is."

"I feel like I'm burning."

"Well, I warned you about that. Now stay like that for a moment. I'm going to sit down on the other couch." Before I left, I draped the tawse across his lower back. Not surprisingly, he reached back and removed it, tossing it on the carpet.

By that point I had made myself comfy on the opposite sofa, the one I had been on when he had come in.

I said, "All right, I've seen enough. Now comes the fun part of the proceedings that I promised."

I'm not sure if he was defiant or merely resigned as he said over his shoulder, "So now what are we going to do?"

"The main thing is that we are going to have our own little two-person circle jerk here. You are going to masturbate over there, while I masturbate over here. We are going to watch each other, in fact."

"A man and a woman can't have a circle jerk together."

"Of course they can; you're going to see that right now. First, stand up and face me."

Then he straightened up again, but he immediately reached down to raise his pants back up.

"Ah-ah, Christian, you have to leave those down. You're going to jerk-off, I just told you that."

I saw a certain amount of sheepishness, even confusion in him. He was looking back over his shoulder at me and he did appear puzzled. I gestured with my hand. "Come on, turn around. Don't be embarrassed by me seeing your beautiful cock; I've seen it many times before."

Somehow he pulled himself together and he turned around to face me.

I commented. "That is the most impressive erection I could imagine, and it hasn't gone down a bit in the last couple of minutes. Now get comfortable. Maybe it would be best if you just knelt on the carpet instead of standing up."

"How did you come up with this bizarre idea?"

"Oh, I'll give you plenty to see as an incentive, that's for sure."

I spread my legs and put my feet up on my sofa cushion. I was wearing some very nice lingerie: a black garter belt with black straps clipped to my stockings. Over that, I had an ample but very sheer pair of white panties. They were so sheer that one could see right through them.

Christian could help but gape at me. I commented, "Isn't this the cutest set of underthings that I have on now? I did it all for you."

Perhaps he wanted to say thank you but it came out as, "Okay, I get it."

"And notice something else." I looked down and pointed to my underpants. "See that big wet spot on the crotch? I'm just so ready to go, right now."

He lashed out at me, "You're really are a sadist, you know that?"

"A sadist! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

More anger emerged from him, "And you are a gold digger too."

"Wow, that is really rich!" I meant that in the sense of being funny or ironic. "That reminds me of a song." I sang a few lines,