Ice cold skin burns his hands. Mommy! Mommy! Wake up! No response. Hunger grumbles in the toddler's stomach signaling more angry pains to come. Copper hair and gray eyes nestles in the sleeping woman's breasts as the young lad buries his face inside his blue sweater. Next to him, his older brother pats his head. A moppet of curly blond hair and blue eyes offers him support. On the pale arm of their mother, the toddler causes his small plastic cars to collide before hearing the frightening footsteps stomping across the wooden floor. Shutting his eyes tight, his tiny body prepares for the pain to come. The older brother holds him close shielding him from the oncoming assault.
The rancid smell of alcohol permeates the kitchen as the first sting of the leather belt falls across the boy's skin. He winces, tears filling his eyes, while another lick of the strap whips across his small frame. Even with his big brother attempting to fend off the attack, each lash of the belt manages to inflict anguish on his flesh. Get up! Get up! You fucked-up bitch! Get your ass up and make me some money! This will teach you and your little shits to piss me off…
A small clink of the metal buckle sways near the man's denim pant leg. He stops. Blurred, watery visions seen through a pair of gray and blue eyes anticipate a strike of the punishing tool. Instead it is a forceful kick to the big brother's head that really upsets him. Fear sets in the moment the toddler sees his older sibling cover his head from being pelted by the bash of a leather boot. The toddler runs to him but is taken down by the whack of the buckle across his back. Then the attacks stop.
Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck did you do? You crazy fucked up the bitch! The cops will be here any minute! Shit! I'm getting the fuck out of here! Out of my way, you little shit! Both boys hear the man slam the door behind him as he leaves. A pounding headache throbs in the sibling's head as manages to crawl toward his little brother and mother. Mommy? Despite their cries, their mother does not stir. Instead they curl up next to her wrapped up in a flimsy blanket they both shared and sleep.
In the distance, the sirens were coming…
Twenty four years later…
Twenty seven year old Christian Grey stared at the young intern sitting across from him in his office. As Seattle's most successful self-made CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. and the most enigmatic bachelor entrepreneur and charitable benefactor, the young businessman rarely granted interviews to the press. However his publicity department convinced him to make an exception for the world's leading political magazine Global in the hopes of changing his image as a cold tyrant to shrewd, personable industry leader. Unfortunately the journalist selected for this assignment did not appear to be the right person for the job.
Anastasia Steele, Ana to her friends, fumbled with the crumpled, torn notebook sheets in her tote bag while she searched for her tape recorder. At twenty two years old, the English Literature graduate got a small paying internship with the leading publishing conglomerate SIP in their editing department and now due to Murphy's Law ended being stuck interviewing one of the leading tycoons in the business world for SIP's publication Global. Fidgeting in the uncomfortable chair that focused her attention toward her subject, she absorbed the businessman's office which seemed enormous for one single person. Floor to ceiling windows exhibit a modern dark wood desk that could easily house six people. Across from the table, a matching coffee table is situated near a series of white couches and accompanying furniture. Everything is white exhibiting a cold, clean, clinical atmosphere except for a series of exquisite paintings arranged in a mosaic quadrangular pattern on the wall. It certainly reflects the personality of this distant Adonis who gracefully sinks into the white leather upholstery to address his interviewer. At this moment, Ana wished she was anywhere but here.
"Sorry, I'm not use to this."
She grew more and more flustered allowing Christian to take in her appearance and analyze every little feature. From a quick glance, the long dark, chestnut hair, pale limbs, and gangly features caused the powerful man to roll his eyes in annoyance at her clumsiness and embarrassing awkwardness. Clear, bright powder blue eyes instantly met his gaze sending a sign of the awful possibility that she could see through his sturdy visage but that quickly fades the moment her innocence and naivety begins to rise to the surface. He extends his hand gesturing his palm in reassurance to continue with the interview. Ana nervously agrees.
Finally locating the tape recorder, the intern places the device on her subject's desk and presses record. Small squeaks emit from the wheels of the mini-cassette tape as she pulls a wrinkled list of questions meant for Christian. She began going down the list.
"You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" She took a quick glance at him from her crumpled parchment. A rueful but vaguely disappointed smile formed on his lips and it was at that moment that she really noticed him. The man was not only young but attractive-very attractive. Tall, approximately six feet in stature, dressed in an expensive designer navy suit, crisp white dress shirt, and black tie, Christian Grey had the features of a male supermodel with his unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright gray eyes. It took a moment for Ana to find her voice.
"You're quite young to be journalist, let alone an intern," he noted. "Though I find your approach bookish and bashful. Are you sure you're assertive enough to even be a reporter?"
Ana inhaled a breath. "I'm sorry Mr. Grey but I have something to confess to you. I'm not right the person that should be interviewing you for Global. I was a last minute replacement for this assignment." Christian did not appear to be amused. Shaking his head, he muttered a curse word under his breath before addressing the situation.
"Then tell me Miss Steele," the gray eyed man began. "Exactly who should be interviewing me then?"
"His name is Jose Rodriguez," answered the meek brunette. Casting her eyes down, she bit her lip hoping to explain herself. "He's my roommate and friend. He's more of the economic and political reporter. He was assigned to interview you for Global but came down pneumonia and will be out for few weeks. My boss Mr. Lincoln threw this job at me at the last minute so I'm just going off the series of questions Jose wrote down."
Christian sat back in his chair listening to the young woman's story. The woman certainly had a strong work ethic even though she had no clear idea of how to conduct an interview. He had to admire the girl's tenacity. Pressing his fingers together, he cleared his throat and allowed his gray eyes to convey his feelings.
"In all honesty Miss Steele," the young entrepreneur began. "I am disappointed with these turn of events especially when I was expecting someone more experienced to be handling this interview. However I know your employer Mr. Lincoln and Linc and I go way back. Linc Lincoln is more than just the owner and CEO of SIP publishing house but he is also a good judge of character. Linc would not have sent some foolish employee to handle a huge interview for his Global publication, he would have chosen the best person for the job and that person is you, Ana Steele."
Receiving a positive comment from the one of the most powerful, and handsomest, man in the world made the young woman's heart beat faster. Never in her life did she have the confidence of someone supporting her work based on her merits. She blushed as her eyes darted to the tape recorder. She was overjoyed she had captured his remark during this session. A personal memento as evidence of all the hard work she had put through, a remembrance of all her accomplishments. Ana's mind drifted for bit before realizing the intensity of Christian Grey's eyes burned right through her.
"Since we're still on the subject," he questioned. "Exactly what magazine was have you been planning to get hired for once your paid internship is over with SIP?"
"Catwalk Magazine," she managed to gulp. "I'm interested in fashion and I hope to be a featured writer in the industry…"
Christian interrupted her with a snicker. "I'm afraid that will never be reality."
Ana cocked her head shocked by his blunt response. "Why? Don't…don't you think I have a chance with Catwalk?"
The young businessman tossed his head back to release a loud guffaw. "Forgive me for sounding too cliché. Not a snowball's chance in hell! Let me be direct Miss Steele. Look at you. I've close ties with the fashion industry and speaking from personal experience there is nothing extraordinary about you nor is your sense of personal taste. I would rethink another magazine would be better suited to you."
The blue eyed girl glanced down herself. Sadly, the sharp dressed man was correct in his analysis. Wearing a baggy wool sweater, balloon floral skirt, and oversized lambskin brown boots, Anastasia Steele did not look anything remotely fashionable or trendy. She bit her lip while pulling back the tendrils of dark hair from her pasty face.
"Well…I did make the skirt myself," she whispered. Meek rebuttals came too little too late in this instance. "I…do sew…my own clothes…" Ana hoped this small sign of defense could be her argument.
"I'm sure everyone needs a hobby," smirked Christian. He remained unimpressed. "But do answer your earlier question. "Business is all about people and I'm very good at judging them. I know what makes them tick, makes them flourish, inspires them, and how to provide incentives for them. I employ an exceptional team and I reward them well. I pay attention to every detail and can utilize every piece of logic and fact to my advantage to nurture good people. The growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership."
"It sounds like you're a control freak," said the intern too late to realize her mistake.
Without a trace of humor in his smile, he held his gaze at impassively causing her face to flush. "Oh, I exercise control in all things. Besides immense power is acquired by believing that you born to control things. I employ over forty thousand people. That gives me a sense of responsibility-power, if you will."
An unnerving effect began to take over her. Ana crossed her legs and stirred in her seat shaken by the entrepreneur's presence. She continued with her line of questions. "You invest in manufacturing. Why specifically?"
"I like to build things; see how things work. I have a curiosity to construct and deconstruct. It may sound to you like my heart is talking rather than logic and facts but then again others believe I don't have heart."
He shifts in his chair causing the young intern to blush some more. Her eyes dart down to the next series of questions. "Do your friends say that you're easy to know?"
"I'm a private person, Miss Steele. I go to great lengths to protect that so it rare that I give interviews."
"Why agree to the Global?"
A wicked grin flashed across his face. "The general public has a misconception and other assumptions about me. It is important that I reach out to the community and appear more…"
"Human?" Ana inquired. She shut her mouth surprised her boldness.
"I was going to say charitable," Christian managed to smile in response. "I do a lot of philanthropic work and donate to various charities but that all gets lost due to my endless determination in the business world and the private life that I lead. I'm sure that there is plenty of speculation in the media about me."
"Like maybe you're gay?" Ana spoke out. Her face turned a quick crimson. Why the hell did she say that? She again attempted to apologize. "I…I…I'm so sorry Mr. Grey. Jose wrote that for some odd reason. You don't have to answer that."
Instead the dashing businessman smiled. "No, Miss Steele. I am not gay." Rising from the leather couch, he walked over to where she had been sitting, bent down, and placed both hands on the opposite ends of the armrest. He flashed another sinful grin sending a wave of butterflies through the young woman's stomach. "I can assure you I prefer women. I'm sure there are a few photographs of me with various female companions for tabloid fodder but so far I have yet to see one resurface." Gray eyes stared directly into her powder blue ones. "Like I reiterated earlier, I am a control freak and feel the need to possess everything. It gives me strength when I have full ownership of everything."
"Spoken like a true consumer," she replied shyly.
"That's because I am," he answered. Lifting himself away from her chair, the handsome CEO returned to his desk. "I think you have more than enough for the interview that you needed for Global."
"I…I…I think I do," Ana stammered. Pressing the stop button on the recorder, she tucked the device into her tote and got up. "Thank you Mr. Grey for the interview, I'm sure Jose will make this an unbiased article."
Ignoring her assurances, he swiveled his desk chair to face the window of his office overlooking the city of Seattle. "I highly doubt that."
Ana did not bother to respond and slowly made her way to the door. Turning the knob, she heard the creak of Christian Grey's chair turned toward her. Nervous knots insisted she bolt at that moment.
"Oh Miss Steele! Ana?"
The sound of her name being called convinced her to turn her head toward him. Gray eyes met hers once more.
"I really think you should use your talents more wisely," he grinned. "Fashion is not your calling. British Literature is. Don't waste your education."
The young woman's eyebrows rose both in shock and confusion. "How…did you know that I majored in British Literature?"
"I make it a point to know people I find intriguing," he smiled. Nodding his head, Christian observed Anastasia Steele make her way out of the door.
A few minutes had passed since the intern's departure, the tycoon swirled in his desk chair intrigued by the young woman's personality and presence. Something about her struck him as being more than ordinary. He studied her. Ana Steele is attractive-quite attractive in a small, innocent, unnerving way. Her clumsiness and awkwardness strangely made her very appealing but more than that he wanted her. Tightness in his groin personified that as he imagined her down on her knees serving his cock while her powder blue eyes, clear as crystal, stared up toward him pleading for his approval.
He wanted to know more especially what was concealed underneath the self-sewn baggy clothes that would shame any fashionista. Every time she bit her lip, he fantasized about refining her motor skills with the assistance of a new riding crop. It was difficult to resist her mouth-natural, not too small or overly plumped- just the perfect enough to suckle his huge shaft that had been straining in his dress pants. Then there was the barrage of embarrassing questions. Gay? An unspoken question that no family member would even dare ask. What nerve! He fought the urge to yank her out of her seat, bend her over his desk, and spank her. He prided himself on his constraint.
Opening the top drawer of his wooden desk, he pulled out the document e-mailed earlier to him by his friends at the Federal Bureau of Investigations. A list detailing everything about Anastasia Rose Steele.
Born September 10, 1989 in Montesano, Washington. Father Ray Steele deceased. Mother Carla Kavanaugh (maiden name) estranged. Living guardian Katherine Kavanaugh (aunt). Graduated from WSU Vancouver College of Liberal Arts with a major in English emphasis on British Literature. GPA 4.0. Awesome credit score. Employed with a paid internship at SIP.
Christian returned the document back into his desk grateful that his friend and owner of SIP left him a message that Ana Steele would be the designated interviewer. It provided him plenty of time to get a background check on the woman before she arrived at his office. With the exception of his foster family, the Greys, he had very little trust in people. Then again he had a reputation to protect. He got up from his chair to stare out the window of his building that overlooked Seattle. He could not get the woman out of his mind.
Soft footsteps behind him caught in his attention the moment he heard the door shut closed. Turning around, he faced the feminine figure. Long brown, curly hair fell to the woman's shoulders touching the fabric of her cotton trench coat as collagen lips and seductive brown eyes met his glance. Unraveling the buckle of her covering, the woman dropped the layers to the floor to reveal the lacy black bra, thong, and garter belts she had been wearing.
Christian managed to feign a smile. "Elizabeth, how did you get in? I told Olivia that I'm not meeting clients."
Pressing down on her nipples with her manicured fingers beneath her lacy bra, the half-dressed Elizabeth Sawyer purred at her oblivious lover hoping to gain his attention. "I gave your receptionist the slip so I can see you. Don't tell me you're not happy to see me?"
"I'm never happy to see you," he snorted. "Now please leave."
She approached him slowly letting her high heels embed themselves into the carpeting. Elizabeth Sawyer was not going to take no for answer. As one of Seattle's leading socialites and owner of several accessory retail franchises, the browned haired beauty was used to getting what she wanted. Right now what she wanted was Christian Grey. Sliding her hands around his neck, she leaned in close for a kiss. He maneuvered his lips away from hers.
"Oh come now," she pouted. "Don't tell me that you're not up to our little games? I'm always ready to be a willing sub."
The handsome entrepreneur slipped his hands into his trousers. His eyes appeared cool and assessing-even distant. He was not going to play into her games.
"The Master has more important things on his mind right now," Christian's voice cooled. "And it doesn't involve you."
"Perhaps I can persuade you then?" Elizabeth suggested.
Placing both her hands across his wooden desk, she arched down to display the round firmness of her cheeks to him. Tugging at the black fabric of her thong, Elizabeth pulled the strap of across the crevice of her bottom while her fingers spread apart the spherical flesh of buttocks waiting to be punished by her dominant lover. Parting her legs apart, she rotated her head to look over her shoulder at Christian who now began unbuckling his leather belt from his pants. Excitement flushes through her as she watches the entrepreneur undo his silk tie.
"Obviously bitch," he smirked. "You need to be taught a lesson in obedience."
"Yes…Master," she whispered.
Christian stood over Elizabeth, clutching the silk tie in one hand and the leather belt in the other. Grasping both wrists of the socialite, he wraps her hands tight double knotting her hands in one loop while the rest of the length of the silken cord connects to handle of his wooden desk drawer. Testing the strength of the binds, the Adonis opened the top compartment which pulled the woman forward on her stomach across the office counter. Elizabeth gasped at the illicit sensation.
"Master…please…" she begged. Her arms cramped in uncomfortable anguish bringing a sinful thrill through her groin. "Punish…Master…punish me some more."
He happily obliged. Slapping the leather dress belt against his palm, his willing slave heard the crack of the strap against his hand. Elizabeth gasped some more while a small bit of dew soaked the front of her panties. Unable to move, shackled helplessly on her stomach, she moaned spread-eagle against the wooden office furniture. Christian smiled triumphantly pleased with his handiwork as he lifts her chin to graze the roughness of the belt against her cheek.
"Lick," he commands. Her mouth greedily obeys wetting the coarse material with her tongue.
"That's enough," he snaps. "Elizabeth, give me your safe word."
"Love me," she replies wriggling in her confines. "My safe word is love me."
"Not ever going to happen," gray eyes respond. "Let's begin."
Echoes of his slave's panting signals him to start. Folding the belt in half, he swirls the object mid-air, then drags the edge across the right side of her bare bottom. Both legs quiver at the first sensation the moment the leather touches her skin. Elizabeth squirmed, pulling against the restraints enjoying the deviant sensation of the silken binds cutting into wrists while the sting of the strap raked her skin. A second round occurs. The socialite listened intently as she heard the belt swirl again and flicks across the other side of her butt cheek. It hits her sweet spot with a sweet slap sending a wave of pleasure throughout her body.
"More!" The woman demanded.
"What's that you say?" asked her dominant.
Christian answered her requests with another blow of his belt. This time the contact of the leather stung to the point that the submissive could not contain her pleasure. She felt her body coming, shouting gloriously to her release. Gasping for breath, covered in sweat and feeling every aftershock of her orgasm, Elizabeth allowed her body to lose herself to the disorientation.
"Love me!" The submissive cried out. Liquid silver soaked through thong, dripping down the front sides of her thighs as a puddle of pleasure stained the office carpet. Her bare buttocks throbbed with magnificent pain while her Master looked at his finished art piece now racked with flaming, scarlet blemishes. Dazed and spent, the wealthy woman glimpsed her lover for approval.
The handsome businessman said nothing as he slipped on his leather dress belt back into the loop of his trousers. He adjusted his cufflinks and began to make his way to the door. Realizing this, Elizabeth struggled with her binds.
"Christian!" She called out his name. "Aren't you going to untie me?"
"No," he smirked. "As my sub, I think I'll leave you like this for the whole world to see as punishment for your disobedience."
Her eyes widened with shock. "You can't! You know this will ruin both our reputations!"
"Fuck our reputations!" The dashing tycoon snorted. "We're already ruined." He grabbed the knob of the office door. "Now if you excuse me I have business to attend to."
Elizabeth yanked at the silk material but it was useless. "Christian! You bastard! Untie me!"
"Let this be lesson to you Elizabeth," he grinned. "Never fuck with me. Like I said, it's over between us. I'm looking for a new sub. See yourself out when you get untied." Angry screams vibrated through his office to which Christian ignored. Shutting the door behind him, he walked toward the elevators down the hall.