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"Okay."
"So obeying, do you think you can manage that?"
He stares at me, his gray eyes intense. The seconds tick by.
"I could try," I whisper.
"Good." He smiles. "Now term. One month instead of three is no time at all, especially if you want a weekend away from me each month. I don't think I'll be able to stay away from you for that length of time. I can barely manage it now," he pauses.
He can't stay away from meWhat?
"How about, one day over one weekend per month you get to yourself - but I get a midweek night that week?"
"Okay."
"And please, let's try it for three months. If it's not for you then, you can walk away anytime."
"Three months?" I'm feeling railroaded. I take another large sip of wine and treat myself to another oyster. I could learn to like these.
"The ownership thing, that's just terminology and goes back to the principle of obeying. It's to get you into the right frame of mind, to understand where I'm coming from.
And I want you to know that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you. You have to accept that and willingly. That's why you have to trust me.
I will f**k you, any time, any way, I want - anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because you will screw up. I will train you to please me. But I know you've not done this before.
Initially, we'll take it slowly, and I will help you. We'll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me, but I know I have to earn your trust, and I will. The "or otherwise"
- again it's to help you get into the mindset, it means anything goes."
He's so passionate, mesmerizing. This is obviously his obsession, the way he is... I can't take my eyes off him. He really, really wants this. He stops talking and gazes at me.
"Still with me?" he whispers, his voice rich, warm and seductive. He takes a sip of his wine, his penetrating stare holding mine.
The waiter comes to the door, and Christian subtly nods permitting the waiter to clear our table.
"Would you like some more wine?"
"I have to drive."
"Some water then?"
I nod.
"Still or sparkling?"
"Sparkling, please."
The waiter leaves.
"You're very quiet," Christian whispers.
"You're very verbose."
He smiles.
"Discipline. There's a very fine line between pleasure and pain Anastasia. They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other. I can show you how pleasurable pain can be. You don't believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you can't handle. Again, it comes down to trust. Do you trust me, Ana?"
Ana!
"Yes, I do." I respond spontaneously, not thinking... because it's true - I do trust him.
"Well then," he looks relieved. "The rest of this stuff is just details."
"Important details."
"Okay, let's talk through those."
My head is swimming with all his words. I should have brought Kate's mini disc player so I can listen back to this. There is so much information, so much to process. The waiter re-emerges with our entrees: black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with a hol-landaise sauce. I have never felt less like food.
"I hope you like fish," Christian says mildly.
I make a stab at my food and take a long drink of my sparkling water. I vehemently wish it was wine.
"The rules. Let's talk about them. The food is a deal breaker?"
"Yes."
"Can I modify to say that you will eat at least three meals a day?"
"No." I am so not backing down on this. No one is going to dictate to me what I eat.
How I f**k, yes, but eat... no, no way.
He purses his lips.
"I need to know that you're not hungry."
I frown. Why?
"You'll have to trust me."
He gazes at me for a moment, and he relaxes.
"Touche, Miss Steele," he says quietly. "I concede the food and the sleep."
"Why can't I look at you?"
"That's a Dom/sub thing. You'll get used to it."
Will I?
"Why can't I touch you?"
"Because you can't."
His mouth sets in a mulish line.
"Is it because of Mrs. Robinson?"
He looks quizzically at me.
"Why would you think that?" And immediately he understands. "You think she trau-matized me?"
I nod.
"No Anastasia. She's not the reason. Besides, Mrs. Robinson wouldn't take any of that shit from me."
Oh... but I have to. I pout.
"So nothing to do with her."
"No. And I don't want you touching yourself, either."
What Ah yes, the no mast***ation clause.
"Out of curiosity... why?"
"Because I want all your pleasure," his voice is husky, but determined.
Oh... I have no answer for that. On one level it's up there with, 'I want to bite that lip', on another, it's so selfish. I frown and take a bite of cod, trying to assess mentally what concessions I've gained. The food, the sleep, I can look him in the eye. He's going to take it slow, and we haven't discussed soft limits. But I'm not sure I can face that over food.
"I've given you a great deal to think about haven't I?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to go through the soft limits now too?"
"Not over dinner."
He smiles.
"Squeamish?"
"Something like that."
"You've not eaten very much."
"I've had enough."
"Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no olives, and you've not eaten all day. You said I could trust you."
