Fifty Shades Of Grey: My Years With Elena *Warning - Explicit Content*


'Picture this, an adolescent boy looking to earn some extra money so he can continue his secret drinking habit. So, I was in the backyard at the Lincolns', clearing some rubble and trash from the extension Mr. Lincoln had just added to their place. Elena - Mrs. Lincoln appeared out of nowhere and brought me some lemonade. I made some smart-ass remark...and she slapped me. She slapped me so hard. She then seduced me and I became her submissive for six years.'

And this is my account of what happened.



JULY 2005


Top of my wish-list for my 22nd year was to finally pick up the courage and go to Angelica's. I've had my exclusive membership card for over three months and all it does is sit in the back of my wallet and mock me. I just need to bite the bullet and do this. I can't take the next step forward on to become an independent Dom and finding my own Submissive without experiencing what's involved first. I have pretty much decided what I want in my BDSM contract, I just need to find a Sub willing to take me on. The sooner the better, preferably. Jerking off every morning in the shower and every evening watching porn on my laptop dulls the ache, but it's getting monotonous and less enjoyable. I need to lose myself in some tight little Sub. It's all I can think about. Plus it will get Elena off my back. Her sudden morbid interest in my sex life is getting downright irritating. Since I confided in her about Terri, she seems to think it has given her license to pry. I'm not comfortable with discussing my sex life with her, given our past. I want to move forwards, but she seems intent on raking up the past and going on about how good we were together. She says she's happy to discuss her 'relationship' with Alan, but I don't particularly want to hear about his fist in her ass, thank you very much. I've tried backing off and limiting our time together, but she just bombards me with calls and texts to meet up. She says she's moved on so why can't she seem to let go?


I sigh and take a long slug of bourbon. I got Taylor to drop me off at a bar in West Seattle, not far from Angelica's. He has genuinely proved to be a Godsend. I'm getting so much more work done since assigning him the more mundane and time-consuming tasks I have to deal with on a daily basis. I do worry I'm not stretching him enough though and he'll get bored and decide this isn't for him, but I've just given him a large bonus for his work so far and he was delighted. Well, I think he was delighted. He's a man of few words, but I genuinely appreciate that. I can't bear people who prattle on and when I've got to work so closely with him, I like the fact that he's quiet and to the point.

I finish my bourbon and stand.

It's now or never, Grey.

Straightening my shirt and jacket I take a deep breath and head out of the door.


It's late and the streets of West Seattle are dark, bathed only in street lights and neon signs. I keep my head down as I walk up 15th Avenue, then duck into an alleyway to prepare myself. I'd placed a large amount of gel in my hair before leaving the house and in the bar toilets I had wet my comb repeatedly so I was able to slick it all back. I take the simple black mask I had purchased out of my jacket pocket and tie it tightly above my nape. Exiting the alleyway, I walk the short distance to the club, catching my reflection in the window of a parked car.

Shit! I look like the love child of Superman and Zorro!

But as long as I don't look like Christian Grey, GEH CEO, I couldn't give a fuck. The last thing I want is to be recognised by anyone I know.


My membership card is scanned by one of the burly security guards on the doors and then I'm ushered inside. The first thing that hits me as I walk through the double doors is the noise. Hypnotic dance music pumps out through various speakers making the room vibrate. I say room in its widest context. It is vast - set out like a nightclub, with a huge bar that runs along the length of one wall and it's the only area that is well lit. The rest of the room is drowned in various shades of deep reds and purples - from the drapes hanging from the apex of the ceiling to the floor making the room look like a marquee - to the mind-boggling array of velvet-covered armchairs, sofas, chairs and stools, that surround various wooden tables. It's quite busy - with people milling about enjoying the ambience. It seems to be a very eclectic mix - various ages, genders and races - some elaborately dressed, others wearing masks and surprisingly a large number of people who look like they've just strolled in after clocking off for the day. It shouldn't work, but it somehow does. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and feel myself relax a bit.

Well...You're in here now Grey, you may as well try and enjoy the experience.

I decide another drink is in order and make my way to the bar. Threading my way through the various array of seats, I realise a lot of them are already taken up and small groups are forming around the sofas, watching people writhing together. A muscular barman approaches me wearing nothing but tight black pants and a red bow tie. The lights from the bar dance on his oiled torso and arms.

"Bourbon, please."

"Sure. I need to scan your membership card,"

I hand the card over and he slides it through a slot by the till. "Oh. First time here Mr. DeNatale?" He smiles.

I stare at him blankly.

Oh shit - that's me!

I had to create an identity for myself as there was no way I was applying as Christian Grey. So much had happened since then I'd practically forgotten.

"Umm...Yes it is."

"Excellent! Welcome to Angelica's!" He beams handing me back my card. "First drink is on the house." He takes a tumbler and lifts it to the bourbon dispenser. He grabs a leaflet from the bar and hands it to me with my drink. "Tonight's list of entertainments." He explains. "This is the Main Lounge. Its open plan as you can see as its aim is for the clientele to have access to everything that's going on. Most of it is impromptu - especially when everyone's had a few drinks - but there's organised entertainment every half hour."

"Organised entertainment?" I repeat, baffled.

"Yes. The dance-floor is cleared and we wheel in the raised stage for the performers. There's also raised podiums in every corner of the dance-floor where various dancers perform. It helps get people's juices flowing - if you know what I mean," he says with a wink.

I nod, trying to remain calm. He points out the next section. "The second floor houses the showrooms and private rooms. If you want to book a seat in one of the showrooms, you better move fast as places are limited."

I quickly scan the various acts on the list, hoping my mask hides my fear and arousal.

"Bookings are done at the desk by the cloakroom. We take cash or cards." He smiles.

"Yes...Umm..." I start with a croak. I clear my throat. "Maybe I should work up to that. Thank you, Mr..?"

"Everyone calls me Johnson." He grins wickedly.

Of course they do.

I nod.

"You need anything just holler."

Yup. I can really see me standing at the bar hollering 'Johnson' at the top of my lungs.

"Thanks. I...I think I'll go and find a seat by the dance floor."

"Sure thing, Mr. DeNatale."

Gripping my bourbon I navigate my way through the chairs and tables - now filling with more people in various attires - as I head towards the dance floor. Pretty blonde waitresses dressed in fitted back satin sleeveless shirts, red bow ties and tiny black satin shorts that make my loins ache, mill about chatting to fellow members and delivering drinks and nibbles. I wander over towards a small dark booth that faces the dance-floor. One of the waitresses immediately heads over to my table with a tray.

"Olives and nuts, sir?" She smiles.


She places two small red bowls in front of me on the black tablecloth and a wad of bright red napkins. Her cleavage dances tantalisingly in front of me. "Anything else I can get you...sir..?" She breathes with a flutter of her eyelashes.

"Not at the moment, thank you." I rasp.

"Cool. Just holler if you do." Her eyes linger on me for a long moment and then she beams as she sashays away.

There seems to be a lot of hollering I'm meant to do in this place...

I surreptitiously adjust myself under the table in the hope to dull a little of the ache that seems intent on brewing in there - silently thanking the Gods for the long back tablecloth that hides everything.

I wonder when the next show starts. I seriously need a distraction...

Right on cue all the lights flash on and off three times and the music fades as everyone who was dancing makes their way off the dance floor and stands or sits to the sides. Three men dressed like Johnson, then appear from behind the drapes at the side of the dance floor, pushing a large rectangular wooden stage about eight feet long by eight feet wide, by six feet high. It has four steps on one side that lead to the floor. The men secure it to the floor then leave. There is a sudden bright flash and all four podiums spring into life, revealing scantily dressed dancers. On each podium stands a life-size elaborately gilded birdcage. Two of the cages contain a single man and a woman, but the other cages contain two women wearing nothing but feathers and thongs and the final cage two men in black thongs wearing masks similar to mine. A deep drum and bass track starts and the dancers begin to move; swaying and thrusting their oiled bodies against the cages in time to the music. I watch each one in turn and then the drapes at the side open again. A group of people file out and I'm sure my jaw hits the table.


This time four men make their way to the stage, each bearing the weight of an x-shaped wooden cross on their broad shoulders. And strapped to the cross... a brunette, wearing nothing but lacy black underwear and a jewel in her belly button.


I watch, fascinated as they climb the stairs and secure the cross to two points in the stage. The woman has her head bowed in submission. The men leave the stage and exit through the drapes. Suddenly the lights go out and we are plunged into darkness. Even the lights on the bar have gone out. The whole place has gone eerily quiet. Just as I'm starting to feel a little panicked, there's a sound of a gong and a lone spotlight comes on above the cross, lighting her up again.


She isn't alone. Standing in front of her and directly in my eye-line, is a man wearing a black thong and a dark hooded cloak...And he's holding a black leather flogger.


My mouth goes dry and my heartbeat begins to accelerate. He slowly lifts his head. A silver zipper frames the hood and it glints in the light. As he raises his head I'm startled to find myself staring into his uncovered face. He's older than I imagined - early forties maybe - with blue eyes, a distinctive straight nose and strong jaw covered in a mixture of silver and dark brown thick stubble. The light bounces off his high cheekbones, but his eyes remain glassy and detached. It's a look I immediately recognise.

He's a Dom.

I sink back into my seat, hoping to disappear into the shadows. He swiftly turns, causing his cloak to swirl out behind him. The name Ajani is written in red embroidery over his broad shoulders. He suddenly raises his hands and holds the flogger aloft between them. There is a loud cheer from the assembled crowd and it's only the table in front of me that stops me hitting the ceiling.

FUCK! That scared the crap out of me!

A slow seductive beat begins to pump through the speakers and I'm actually surprised I can hear it over my pounding heart. Ajani lowers his hands and then brandishing the flogger, he whips it against his right leg. It makes a satisfying cracking sound. He circles the woman, running the flogger through his fingers, but not touching her. He goes to circle her a second time, but at the very last second he lashes the flogger across her breasts. Her body leaps to attention, but her head stays bowed; her wavy rich brown hair, kissing her smooth tanned shoulders. She is perfectly proportioned; nice pert breasts, a shapely waist and slim hips and legs. A movement by my side makes me tilt my head. Blonde waitress is back with a glass of bourbon.

"I noticed your glass was empty, sir. Johnson told me what you'd ordered." She breathes as she slides the glass into my hands and collects the empty one.

I nod. "What's the lady's name?" I rasp, pointing to the stage with my chin.

"That's Le Petit Bijou. We all just call her Bijou."

The Little Jewel. Matching the diamond in her belly button. It suits her...

"Okay, thanks."

"Anything else you need, sir?"

I shake my head and she smiles brightly and sashays away.

I turn my attention back to the stage. Ajani has completed another circuit, lashing Bijou's arms and legs. She pulls against her restrains, making her toned muscles contract.

Sweat has begun to form at my nape and trickles down my back. My decision to come here in suit pants, fitted shirt and a leather jacket wasn't a good one. My cock is now throbbing as much as my heart and begging me for release

Could I..?

I swiftly look around. The only light remains on the stage. I am pretty much shrouded in darkness, with a table covering me from the waist down, covered in a black tablecloth.

Oh fuck it...

I grab a napkin and swiftly unzip myself, keeping my eyes on the stage. My ice-cooled hand connecting with my scorching cock almost makes me cry out with pleasure. I take a deep breath and a slug of bourbon.

Focus Grey!

Back on the stage, Ajani has directed his attention to Bijou's black lace panties, aiming several precise hits to the area of her clitoris, making her buck towards him. I am as hard as stone, my hand travelling slowly up and down as I watch entranced. Ajani then comes to the front of the stage. He lifts up the flogger in both his hands again to a loud cheer and then he pulls his hands wide - revealing a small shiny blade that was hidden in the handle of the flogger.


I freeze as the crowd goes wild. He grins wickedly and for the first time, his eyes light up. He spins around and lashes at Bijou's front, making me gasp in horror as the crowd applaud. He then slashes either side of her hips and stands back, as her shredded underwear falls silently to the floor.


My eyes feast on her beautiful nakedness as Ajani replaces the blade and begins to lash the flogger against her bare skin, leaving arousing pink welts. I increase the rhythm of my strokes as I feel my face begin to heat.

"Do you need anything...sir..?"

I jump startled, to find Blondie back at my table.

"No..." I growl, hoping to scare her off.

To my utter horror, she slides in tightly next to me. "I wasn't talking about a drink..."


I glare at her and then something warm caresses my skin...

...and squeezes my cock...


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