Aug 29, · 50 Shades of Grey chapter 17 in which the author seems super cool with rapey-culture So chapter Let's try and do this in a way that won't hurt my brain. Bets on my success? Because I wouldn't take that bet. The chapter opens with Ana being soooo hot and tossing and turning and there's a lot of moth-flame imagery. She then wakes up. Read Chapter 17 from the story 50 Shades of Grey by saratara16 with 2, reads. sexy, lovestory, latenight. I could fe. CHAPTER 18 Dr. Greene is tall, blond, and immaculate, dressed in a royal blue suit. I’m reminded of the women who work in Christian’s.
I was going crazy when my love left me for another man,l day in a couple of months ago, when i meet a friend that introduce me to Dr UDUGA the great spell-caster,I narrated my problem to Dr UDUGA about how my ex love left me and also how i needed to get a job in a very big company. He only said to me that i have come to the right place were i will be getting my heart desire without any side effect. He told me what i need to do,After it was been done,In the next 2 days,My love called me on the phone and was apologizing for living me before now and also in the next one week after my love called me to plead for forgiveness,I was called for interview in my desired company were i apply for to work as a manager,I am so happy and overwhelmed that i have to tell this to the entire world to contact Dr UDUGA at the following email address and get all your problems solved..
No problem is too big for him to solve. Email him on:udugatempleofsolution gmail. He ties her up. I never read these books - never had any interest in reading them- but I would fucking pay you to come read me excerpts and then comment on them.
Have you considered taking your act on the road? Hi Erika, I am loving your review of this 'amazing' novel, why didn't the Douchebag Grey just drown her in the bath lol :-D I know i'm being mean hehe X. This blog Thursday, July 26, 50 shades of Grey chapter 9, in which there is more banging. I'm feeling better about these after last chapter.
So much so that I'm at least starting this chapter off sober! Wish me luck! Also, again, sexing in this chapter, not totally SFW. So our chapter opens with Ana waking up next to Grey and gawking at his beauty for a few paragraphs before stealing his shirt and slipping off to pee. In her wanderings she gets lost in Grey's massive apartment because it's sooo big. I want to know why he's in an apartment and not a mansion on the outskirts of town or something, or if James has ever really been inside of condos.
Yeah they can be massive, but how big is this freaking building? Oh no. I was supposed to text her. If she couldn't be bothered to text you when you didn't come home when he was supposed to give you a lift, or to text you HERSELF to check in when she didn't hear from you, then I don't think she gets to put anyone in the corner.
Do I look different? In fact, he has very odd ideas about you, wants to make you some sort of kinky sex slave. Also, Ana, your subconscious is a judgmental bitch. Just gonna throw that out there. I am going to have to process all this.
I shudder. My hair is its usual wayward self. Less talking and more hilarious fucking! Ana then wanders off to find her phone. There are three texts from Kate! No missed calls, mind you. Let's take a moment to revel in these. Kate is a journalist, who has been working as the editor on the school paper, and who's parents are loaded and spoil her rotten.
I struggle to think that she doesn't have a phone with a touch screen keyboard, or just a qrty sliding keyboard on it. I call Kate. Blue Beard, for those of you wondering, is the upbeat charming folk tale of a man who kept getting married and had a strange quirk.
Whenever he left he asked his wife to carry an egg with her. This was so when she found the mutilated body of the previous wife she'd drop it and he'd know it was time to get to horribly murdering his new wife. Ana admits that she's confused and muddled and overwhelmed — which is totally fair — before deciding that sorting out her thoughts and feelings aren't that important and then goes about searching for hair ties and making breakfast.
I think we've established that he likes you young and girly, Ana. She's thinking at the right level of not too deep or so she tells us but deep enough and getting bonery over the memory of the night before. Amy Studt is singing in my ear about misfits.
I have never fitted in anywhere and now… I have an indecent proposal to consider from King Misfit himself. Why is he this way? Nature or Nurture? Also I mentioned being annoyed when authors song-drop to tie in feelings of the characters, and this is a very good example of it. It's just so Well, fan-fiction-y. Also, Ana, you were a bookish shy girl, that's Not really a misfit. Being bookish and quiet. Being a misfit means you got taunted because you were unrelentingly yourself, even though that got you taunted and teased.
You may have been invisible, but you got to fly under the radar. That girl no one really noticed, but you didn't have to worry about the jocks taunting you mercilessly and the Pretty Popular Mean girls picking on you for ANYTHING because your inability to conform freaked them right the hell out.
The world needs more spontaneous dance parties. She gets all blushy again. You can relax and calm down now. He gently pulls my pigtail. Told you so. Also Blue Beard's whole character is he's a charming serial killer.
Again, if THAT is the connection you're drawing, hard boil the egg and freaking book it. It's described in more detail then there is any good reason for and is incredibly tedious. I'm waiting for him to take the maple syrup and starts drizzling it on her body and ends up giving her a horrible yeast infection.
I wondered if we should continue your basic training. I suppress my groan. I like it when I get lady boners, awww yeah. Also, again, basic training. You touch it. And then, you touch it again. Now lick it. His brow knits. His eyes are dark, pained. Which makes him dark and interesting, I guess?
Because Kate is going to ask and I Have questions. Yes, questions. That's it. Then they're off to take a bath! Not sure if I'm hoping he busts out a rubber duckey vibrator or not. He pours some expensive looking bath oil into the water. It foams as the bath fills and smells of sweet sultry Jasmine. Jasmine isn't something I'd off offhandedly refer to as particularly sweet OR sultry.
Flowery, maybe? He is just yummy. I take his hand, and he bids me to step into the bath while I am still wearing his shirt. That's right, her subconscious is swooning over his abs while he throws her in the tub, still in his shirt. I think the only character I dislike more then Grey might be Ana's subconscious.
Back to Grey heaving Ana over his shoulder and pile driving her into the tub still wearing his shirt, which is white and we've established she isn't wearing a bra, so I feel betrayed! Who knew. Lip biting. Got it. Oh my GOD. I get it, we're supposed to be all "zomg he's sooo nice! It's probably for the best he's trying to coax her out of bashfulness now. There will be no time for it once he pulls out the egg beater. I am naked, in a bath with Christian Grey.
Yes, Ana, people are usually naked when they're in the bath. He moves down my arms, then under them to my underarms washing gently. Later on he's going to be smelling her armpits. Also, bets on orgasms this chapter? I'm going with 2 this time. Well, 2 for Ana. Are you ready for that? My heart starts pounding. This is it. My inner goddess is spinning like a world-class ballerina, pirouette after pirouette. He opens the door to his playroom, standing back for me to walk through, and I am once more in the Red Room of Pain.
My blood is running heated and scared through my system — adrenaline mixed with lust and longing. He gazes down at me and his eyes are heated, lustful… hypnotic. Do you understand?
I nod, my mouth dry, my heart thumping for a way out of my chest. I swallow, and rather clumsily, I take them off. He bends and picks them up and deposits them beside the door. I want you to be comfortable with your body, Anastasia. You have a beautiful body, and I like to look at it.
It is a joy to behold. In fact, I could gaze at you all day, and I want you unembarrassed and unashamed of your nakedness. Lift your arms up over your head. Slowly, he pulls my dress up over my thighs, my hips, my belly, my breasts, my shoulders, and over my head.
He stands back to examine me and absentmindedly folds my dress, not taking his eyes off me. He places it on the large chest beside the door. Reaching up, he pulls at my chin, his touch searing me.
He unclasps my bra and then taking both straps, he slowly pulls them down my arms, brushing my skin with his fingers and the tip of his thumbnails as he slides my bra off. His touch sends shivers down my spine, waking every nerve ending in my body. He runs his nose down my exposed neck, inhaling all the way, then back up to my ear. The muscles in my belly clench, carnal and wanting.
I moan. Hmm… why? He releases my hair. Just in your panties. Now part your knees. Look down at the floor. Naked feet. I should be taking notes if he wants me to remember. He reaches down and grasps my braid again, then pulls my head back so I am looking up at him. What is he going to do to me? Time shifts. I have no idea how long he leaves me like this… a few minutes, five, ten? My breathing becomes shallower, the anticipation is devouring me from the inside out.
Could I be more excited? I can see his feet. These are older, ripped, soft, and over-washed. Holy cow. These jeans are hot. He shuts the door and hangs something on the back. You look lovely like that. Well done. Stand up. Oh my… I want to touch him. The top button of his jeans is undone. Give me your right hand. It happens so quickly that the surprise hardly registers. Well, not much, just a slight ringing sting. I blink at him, confused. I succeed. Is it really not going to hurt?
Jeez, my breathing is so shallow. He shows me the crop. He reaches up and takes down some shackles with black leather cuffs. This is beyond fascinating, beyond erotic.
I suppress the brief thrill of fear. He stands very close as he fastens the cuffs. His proximity is heavenly. He smells of body wash and Christian, an inebriating mix, and that drags me back into the now.
I want to run my nose and tongue through that smattering of chest hair. I could just lean forward… He steps back and gazes at me, his expression hooded, salacious, carnal, and I am helpless, my hands tied, but just looking at his lovely face, reading his need and longing for me, I can feel the dampness between my legs.
He walks slowly round me. And your smart mouth, quiet for now. I like that. Not taking his eyes off mine, he scrunches my panties in his hand, holds them up to his nose, and inhales deeply. Holy fuck. Did he just do that? He grins wickedly at me and tucks them into the pocket of his jeans.
Uncoiling from the floor, rising lazily, like a jungle cat, he points the end of the riding crop at my navel, leisurely circling it — tantalizing me. At the touch of the leather, I quiver and gasp. He walks round me again, trailing the crop around the middle of my body.
On his second circuit, he suddenly flicks the crop, and it hits me underneath my behind… against my sex. I cry out in surprise as all my nerve endings stand to attention. I pull against the restraints. My body convulses at the sweet, stinging bite. As he makes his way around me, he flicks again, this time hitting my nipple, and I throw my head back as my nerve endings sing. I shrug, glancing down the list. Is the use of sex toys acceptable to the Submissive?
Does it do what it says on the tin? I purse my lips at him. He stops laughing. Believe me. I thaw a little and take another sip of champagne. I examine the list, and my inner goddess bounces up and down like a small child waiting for ice cream. Is Bondage acceptable to the Submissive? It takes a great deal of time, and I only have you for short periods of time anyway.
Anything else? And I think I visibly shrink My brain is beginning to fog… hmm alcohol. Would you like another drink? He refills my teacup, and I sip. I flush and stare down at my hands. My subconscious runs, screaming, and hides behind the couch. It must be having some effect on you too. My inner goddess is panting. Have I hurt you yet? He clasps my hand. It may not work. Maybe one night a week. My subconscious peeks out from behind the couch, still registering shock on her harpy face.
Dread spawns in my belly. Taking his jacket off, he drapes it over my shoulders and heads for the door. Parked outside is a red hatchback car, a two-door compact Audi.
I stare at it blankly, trying desperately to determine how I feel about this. Taking my hand, he leads me down the path toward this new acquisition. His eyes are on me, but at the moment I cannot bring myself to look at him. I stand silently staring at its awesome bright red newness. Turning, I glare at him, my mouth open in horror. How could you? How dare he? Poor Ray. I feel sick, mortified for my dad. Okay, not all his life — not as a small child — and my world-view shifts.
The thought is very sobering, and I soften towards the car, feeling guilty about my fit of pique. His intentions are good, misguided, but not from a bad place. On loan. Thank you. I reach up and kiss him briefly on his cheek. He grabs me suddenly and yanks me up against him, one hand at my back holding me to him and the other fisting in my hair.
I want him badly — in spite of the car, the books, the soft limits… the caning… I want him. He grabs my hand and leads me back into the apartment and straight into my bedroom… no passing go. My subconscious is behind the sofa again, head hidden under her hands.
He switches on the sidelight and halts, staring at me. His gaze is impassive; his gray eyes cold shards of smoky glass. He remains silent and brooding. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, his expression has softened fractionally. He takes a deep breath and swallows. Obediently, I turn and my heart is thumping, desire instantly replacing unease, coursing through my blood and settling dark and yearning low, low in my belly.
He scoops my hair off my back so it hangs down my right side, curling at my breast. He places his index finger at the nape of my neck and achingly slowly drags it down my spine. His well-manicured fingernail gently grazes down my back. I feel him flush against my body. Leaning down, he inhales my hair. So sweet. My breathing changes, becoming shallow, rushed, full of expectation. His fingers are at my zipper. Achingly slow, once more he eases it down while his lips move, licking and kissing and sucking their way across to my other shoulder.
He is so tantalizingly good at this. My body resonates, and I start to squirm languidly beneath his touch. He tugs at the fastening at the halter neck, and the dress drops and pools at my feet. I like that. I obey immediately, and my breasts rise and push into his hands, my nipples hardening further. My fingers weave into his hair, and very gently I tug his soft, sexy hair.
I roll my head to one side to give him easier access to my neck. I groan as the sensation registers sharp and clear in my groin. I arch my back to force my breasts into his expert hands. I feel him against me. I moan and my hands clench in his hair pulling harder. My brain registers through the fog of needy desire as I groan. I grind my behind against him… moving side to side.
I feel his grin against my neck as his hands move down to my hips. His fingers hook into my panties at the back, stretching them, and he pushes his thumbs through the material, shredding them and tossing them in front of me so I can see… holy shit. His hands move down to my sex… and from behind, he slowly inserts his finger. His breathing has quickened.