Fifty Shades of Shade - The Fifty Shades of Grey Parady Page 6
Bondage with leather cuffs
Bondage with pretzels (soft)
Bondage with handcuffs/shackles
Bondage with other
I didn’t know what kind of device “Other” was (it sounded spooky), but everything else scared the hell out of me even more. I was torn. I wanted more than anything to please this man. But at the same time everything listed sent shivers down my spine. I felt the fear in my soul.
What about me?
I feel it in you too, Subconscious.
You better not be cheating on me with Soul!
As I put down the contract and go back to the computer I realize I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Suddenly, I look behind me and there’s a man dressed in business wear standing there with a friendly smile.
“Ah.” I jump.
“Hello. Mr. Shade sent me to set up your computer.”
“Do you just appear in places out of nowhere like that?”
“Yep.”
I collect myself. “Okay. Go right ahead.” I let him set it up. As he finishes everything he beckons me over to take a look.”
“So it’s all set up here. This is your Me account.”
“Me account?”
“Your e-mail account.”
I have an e-mail account? Can anyone please explain to me how anyone can make it through college this day in age without an e-mail address?? No, Subconscious. Nobody can.
The IT guy concludes his instruction and leaves. A surprised Melissa shows him out.
“How did he get in here?” she asks me.
“Shade.”
“Ah.” She turns and leaves, satisfied with the answer.
I look back at the computer screen. It’s so glowy. I see that I have my first e-mail. I try just telling the computer to open it. Doesn’t work. I try pressing the part of the screen where the e-mail is. Nothing either. Then I realize it’s probably motion activated, like the fancy sinks in the airports. I wave my hands in front of one of the blinking lights on the side. Still nothing. Angry, I smash my fist against the computer. My e-mail opens. That worked.
It says I have an e-mail from Sebastian Shade. An e-mail from Sebastian Shade! I wonder what he’s like:
From: Sebastian Shade
Subject: Your new computer
Date: May 22, 2012
To: Chastity Stool
Dear Miss Stool,
I trust you slept well. I hope you put this laptop to good use, as discussed. Look forward to dinner Wednesday. Happy to answer any questions you might have before then.
Sebastian Shade
CEO Shade Enterprise, Inc.
I hit reply.
From: Chastity Stool
Subject: Your new computer
Date: May 23, 2012
To: Sebastian Shade
I slept very well, thank you. This computer is just a loan right?
P.S. Is yours motion-activated?
Chastity
His reply is instant.
From: Sebastian Shade
Subject: Indefinite loan
Date: May 23, 2012
To: Chastity Stool
The computer is an indefinite loan. I trust you read the documentations. Any questions so far?
Sebastian Shade
CEO Shade Enterprise, Inc.
From: Chastity Stool
Subject: Leaf-mark in coffee milk
Date: May 23, 2012
To: Sebastian Shade
Many questions. How do they get that leaf-mark in the coffee milk?
Chastity
From: Sebastian Shade
Subject: Leaf-mark in coffee milk
Date: May 23, 2012
To: Chastity Stool
About the contract, I mean.
Sebastian Shade
CEO Shade Enterprise, Inc.
From: Chastity Stool
Subject: Oh
Date: May 23, 2012
To: Sebastian Shade
Oh. Yes. Many. But not suitable for email.
Chastity
From: Sebastian Shade
Subject: Research
Date: May 23, 2012
To: Chastity Stool
Have you started research yet? You should be working on your assignment.
Sebastian Shade
CEO Shade Enterprise, Inc.
From: Chastity Stool
Subject: Research
Date: May 23, 2012
To: Sebastian Shade
Where should I start? I tried whispering “internet research” into the computer’s ear. Nothing happened. Please advise.
Chastity
From: Sebastian Shade
Subject: Research
Date: May 23, 2012
To: Chastity Stool
Always start with Wikipedia. Now stop emailing me and get to it already
Sebastian Shade
CEO Shade Enterprise, Inc.
What a bossypants. I type “Submissive” into Wikipedia. Half hour later I feel queasy and shocked. Is this what happens in the Red Room of Pain? Unimaginable. But that small part of me that just got sexed up for the first time feels different. It feels turned on by all this. But the rest of me says I can’t handle it. I mean, did you see that one picture of that woman? Well, of course you didn’t. I haven’t described it to you. Just believe me, it was quite jarring.
My head. I need some space. I’m going to go for a run and then jump off a bridge.
Wednesday comes and I meet Sebastian at the Barble Mar (formerly the Marble Bar). Sebastian is leaning casually against the bar, drinking a glass of white wine being held by Cheryl. I borrowed one of Melissa’s fancy dresses and stilettos. It was difficult to drive in these high-heels—I ran over six pedestrians on the way here—but as I look on at this beautiful man I don’t think about any of that. I don’t think about much of anything besides him. He turns and sees me, sending Cheryl away, ordering him to leave the wine.
He walks over. “You look stunning,” he murmurs (tired of that word yet?), as he kisses me on the cheek. “A dress, stilettos, I approve.”
Taking my arm he leads me to a secluded booth. He signals for a waiter and every waiter in the restaurant comes over and bends down so we can walk over them to our table, just like in the movie “300.”
After we are served some wine he starts in:
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
He leans forward. “Me too.”
Sebastian Shade, nervous? Pish-posh.
“So, how are we going to do this?” I ask.
“Impatient as ever.” He smirks at me.
“You know these contracts are legally unenforceable.”
“I am fully aware, Miss Stool.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“You think I’d coerce you into doing something you don’t want to do and then have a legal hold over you?”
“Well,” I was distracted by his eyes, oh how they smolder. I wind up just blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Yes.”
“You don’t think very highly of me then.”
“You didn’t answer the original question.”
“It’s an agreement. You want to do it, then sign. If you do sign, and then decide you want out, there are enough clauses and loopholes to easily accomplish that. Relationships like this are built on trust and honesty and occasionally anal fisting. All the other Submissives I had in the past knew that. So I guess the real question here is…have you eaten today?”
“No.”
He narrows his eyes. “You must eat. Do you want to eat here or back in my suite? The gladiators are battling again.”
“Let’s stay here, in public. Neutral ground.”
He smiles sardonically. “You think that would stop me?”
“I hope so.”
He snaps his fingers. All the waiters go to the nearest levers against the wall and pull them. All the other restaurant patrons fall through trap doors under their seats and disappear, al
ong with all of the waiters except one.
“There. Now, we’re in private.”
The now lone waiter walks over.
“Oysters,” Shade orders. “And some filet of sperm whale for the lady.” He raises a seductive eyebrow at me.
“Right away, sir.” The waiter scurries off.
“Now,” he says. “About the issues you had with the contract.”
“I’m worried you’ll hurt me.”
“Hurt you how?”
“Physically.”
“Do you think I would do that?”
“You said you hurt someone before.”
“All I did was hang her from the ceiling by her nipples.”
I grab my nipples lovingly after hearing this, whispering to them that I would never let that happen.
“I know you haven’t done anything like this before, Chastity, so we’re going to take it slow. We’ll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me. But I know that I have to earn your trust.”
He’s so passionate and mesmerizing when he speaks like this. I can’t help wanting to finger myself when he does. But since the waiter’s, like, staring at us I won’t. The food arrives and we begin to eat.
I’ve never had an oyster before, so I try cutting the shell with a fork and knife and eating that part first. The sound is unpleasant.
“No, Miss Stool, like this,” Shade instructs.
He holds up the shell to my mouth. “Now, sip it.”
I do just that. Tastes way better than the shell probably does.
“Would you like more wine?” he asks me.
“Water. I have to drive.”
“Still, sparkling, or chlorine?”
“Sparkling, please.”
Shade tells the waiter.
“Would you like to go over some of the hard and soft limits?” he then asks me.
“Not over dinner.”
“Too squeamish?”
“Something like that.”
“You need to eat more. You haven’t eaten today. Here, have some more sperm whale.”
“I’ve had enough.”
“I’m keeping track of exactly how much you eat. I need you fit and healthy. I want to feel like I’m fucking a Clydesdale.”
Um, okay.
“And right now, I want to peel that Clydesdale out of her dress.”
I feel the pull deep in my belly. Probably where the oyster landed. His words make me clench my newly found sex muscles. But I can’t give in. Not tonight. He’s using sex as a weapon. He’s so good at it. Like Yo-Yo Ma with the cello, or Morgan Freeman with voice-over narration. Nonetheless there’s too much going on in my head and I must resist his erotic mind control. Must…resist…
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say.
“You want dessert?”
“Yes.”
“What if I have you for dessert?”
I shrug. “Then you’d be missing out on the crème brulee.”
“I mean sexually.”
“Oh.” He’s so confounding.
“If you’re my Sub, all the doubts that you have, all the worrying you do over if this right or wrong, it doesn’t have to happen. As your Dom, that’s my concern, not yours. You just have to submit to me and do as I say while I whip, flog, cuff, and intrude on you orally. There, now doesn’t that reassure you?”
I don’t respond immediately. I pick sperm whale out of my teeth.
He continues. “You know when you fell into my office for the interview. You were all ‘no, sir’ and ‘yes, sir’. I thought you were a natural born submissive. But now, I don’t think you have a submissive bone in your body.”
He moves toward me. I look and somehow he maintains his exact sitting position even though he’s now totally off the chair.
“You may be right,” I murmur.
“I want to explore the possibility that you are a Submissive, though.” He kisses me. “Spend the night with me.”
He sees the reluctance on my face. He licks his thumb and picks it off for me.
“Thanks for that….but the answer is no, Sebastian.”
He groans. “Are you telling me good-bye?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mean for tonight only. I mean for good.”
“Sebastian, I have to think about this. I—I don’t know if I want this kind of relationship.”
He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against me. He even makes my brain moisten up. He kisses my forehead and pulls away.
“As you wish, Miss Stool. I’ll escort you to the lobby.”
My heart clenches. I stand up and walk out with him.
As we’re waiting out front for the valet to bring my car I peek over at Shade.
“Thank you for dinner,” I murmur.
“It’s a pleasure as always, Miss Stool.”
I peer into him and commit his beautiful face to memory. I take out a sketchpad and start drawing him. He holds his pose while I do this. Why don’t I just buy a camera?
Before I could finish, the valet carries my Volkswagen Beetle over.
“Is that your car?” Shade asks, incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Will it ever make it to Seattle?”
“What’s a Seattle?”
He looks over my car, disgusted. “Oh, I think we can do much better than this.”
The realization dawns. “You are not buying me a car.”
“I already did.”
I look behind my car. There’s a brand new black Lexus with a giant ribbon on top of it.
I shake my head. “Good-bye, Sebastian.”
I look at him one more time. I get into my Beetle and drive off. As soon as I get behind the wheel, the tears I’ve been holding back pour out of me. From the car ride through the arrival back home and getting straight into bed, all I think about is us. Can it possibly work? Will I be able to introduce him to family and friends? Will we ever take one of those cute couple pictures where we are coming down together on a rollercoaster?
I cry into my pillow that night. I just want a rollercoaster picture.
I don’t see or even speak to Sebastian until graduation. Whatever that is.
Ah, so this is graduation. I get it now. The chancellor is kicking off the proceedings with a speech to the student body and their guests. I watch Sebastian scanning the hall from the stage. Sitting next to me is my stepdad dad Rick, there to be by my side while I graduate. He’s passed out drunk from bourbon in his chair. Rick is such a pillar of support.
I hear two girls whispering to each other in the row in front of me.
“He’s hot. Who is he?”
“Sebastian Shade, I think.”
“Is he single?”
I chime in. “I don’t think so.”
Both girls turn around and look at me with surprise. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I think he’s gay. For men.”
They turn back around and giggle.
The chancellor finishes his speech. The crowd then erupts when he introduces Miss Melissa McCallahan. Melissa takes the podium and tosses back her lovely hair. She takes her time, not intimidated by a thousand people watching her. She’s composed and funny, starting off with a joke about a priest, a rabbi, and Napolean getting raped by Satan. It gets a big, polite laugh. She continues with her speech. It’s entitled, “What’s Next After College?” An odd choice for a graduation speech, but, hey, I trust her.
Melissa concludes her speech with a flourish, and spontaneously everyone stands applauding and cheering: couples turn and kiss each other in celebration, confetti falls from the ceiling, and champagne bottles start popping. After that, a row of Can Can dancers prance on stage as Melissa walks to her seat. The revelry eventually stops and the rest of the graduation continues on.
The chancellor rises and introduces the next speaker, Sebastian Shade. He touches briefly on Sebastian’s achievements as CEO of Shade Enterprises, how he’s a major benefactor, and how he once cloned a dinosaur. As Sebastian makes his
way to the podium, the chancellor shakes his hand proudly, breaking three bones in Sebastian’s arm. He plays it off coolly and begins his speech.
“I’m profoundly grateful and touched by the great compliment accorded to me by the authorities of WSU today. It offers me the rare opportunity to talk about the impressive work of the environmental science department here. Our aim, together, is to develop viable and ecological sustainable methods of farming for third world countries. The ultimate goal is to eradicate hunger throughout the entire world. Observe.”
At this a tiny, starving African child walks onto the stage. The audience is heartbroken looking at the emaciated boy. When he walks over to Sebastian, he bends down to greet the young boy. Shade then hands him a piece of broccoli and kisses him on the forehead. The African child eats the broccoli. There’s a pause as he finishes. Then, a big smile.
“See. It works,” Shade points out.
The crowd is astounded. Awed clapping and scattered comments fill the air like, “How’d he do that?” and “So, food is the answer to hunger!”
I’m amazed that this was even a project of Shade’s. Who knew he was such a driving force for good. He really does want to feed the world. That’s why he always wants me to eat.
I’m seized by a sense of raw outrage—poor, fucked-up, kinky, philanthropic Sebastian. He’s doing all of these good works, running a huge company and…chasing me. But I’m the only one in this auditorium that knows his secrets. And they’re not pretty.
Sebastian finishes his speech to vigorous applause and a few panties being thrown on stage.
The chancellor retakes the podium and begins the long, tedious process of collecting our degrees. There are more than four-hundred to be given out, and it takes over an hour to hear my name. When I finally do, I walk up to the stage and meet Sebastian face-to-face. He gives me a degree and shakes my hand.
“Congratulations, Miss Stool.”