Fifty Shades of BDSM Trilogy

by Sky Corgan

  I didn't know what else to say. There were so many emotions raging through me. Anger. Lack of trust. What he was asking of me seemed ridiculous and impossible.

  My breath hitched as I felt his hand slip on top of mine, drawing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. His soft blue eyes spoke of purer intentions that betrayed his sinful request. It was strange to see him so calm and collected after such a heated conversation.

  “Good night, honey bee,” Jack whispered as he walked away.

  Honey bee? I thought about the pet nickname for a moment. After not being able to figure it out, I let my mind drift to more pressing matters, analyzing our conversation.

  Jack made it sound like this school was really important to our marriage, and I definitely did want the marriage to work out. But still, BDSM? The thought that he wanted me to be a slave to him was absolutely repulsive. This was America, not some third-world country where he could whip me and beat me and get away with it.

  I decided to go back to my room and try to get some sleep. In the morning, my mind would be clearer, much better for considering his indecent proposal. But as before, my brain was too occupied for sleep, and I lay restless. Within minutes, I was sitting in front of the computer, researching away.

  For someone who claimed to know the acronym for BDSM, Jack had got it wrong. It actually was a condensed acronym for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism or sadism and masochism. I wouldn't fault him for being off the mark a bit, but I liked to stay as accurate as possible. The practice itself seemed to encompass a wide array of kink, from wax play to whipping. None of it sounded appealing to me at all.

  After I got a better idea of what BDSM was, I Googled for related schools in California. There appeared to be one in San Francisco, but it only offered weekend courses at a hefty price tag. It probably wasn't the one Jack planned to send me to.

  I read through the website anyway. Oddly enough, it seemed rather innocent for what it entailed. There was no actual penetration involved, and the faculty promised not to press past a person's boundaries. The entire experience was supposed to be like a spiritual sexual awakening, where you left your mundane life behind to explore the pleasures of the body.

  The pictures in the website gallery told a different story though. Images of people with needles sticking out of their backs were enough to turn me off completely. Not to mention the fact that not a single person was near my age. The vast majority were older than my parents, making thoughts of the experience all the more creepy.

  I scowled all the way back to bed. This wasn't what I had signed up for. Of course not. Jack had signed me up for it. But my thoughts spoke of something deeper. Being betrothed. Leaving my home. It wasn't what I had really wanted. I wished I would have had enough sense to see it before I got on the plane. My happily ever after should have been with sweet stable Liam, not with fetishist multibillionaire Jack Kemble, who didn't know even me—who didn't care to get to know me before signing me up for this stupid school.

  A knock at my bedroom door startled me awake the next morning. I must have stayed up so late that I slept past breakfast. Groggily, I leaned over to look at the alarm clock. Ten in the morning. Definitely late for breakfast. Why hadn't they woken me up sooner?

  “Melita, are you alright in there?” Jack's mother asked through the door.

  “Yes, ma'am. I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute.”

  “Alright.” I could hear her footsteps walking away.

  Had Jack already left for the day, I wondered as I quickly got dressed. Deep inside, I hoped that he had. I didn't feel like I could face him yet, especially when I was still undecided about the school.

  Thankfully, Jack wasn't downstairs when I emerged from my bedroom. His mother told me that he had gone out for a while and would be back for lunch. It was very vague, but I didn't bother asking questions.

  With a few hours of sleep under my belt, my mind was definitely clearer and better able to handle processing our conversation from the night before. While I really didn't want to go to the school, the fact that it was only for a week made it a lot less daunting. One week of misery for a lifetime of happiness, that seemed to be the bargain Jack had struck, though I was curious about why he thought we would be unhappy otherwise, if I didn't want to learn first hand about BDSM. Surely, he wasn't kinky all the time.

  It was yet another sacrifice that I would have to make for him. One sacrifice after another, it seemed. When would it be his turn? Would it ever be his turn?

  Jack returned promptly at eleven thirty with a giant bouquet of white roses. The ear to ear grin on his face made it seem like our previous conversation had never taken place, and for a moment, I felt normal again.

  “For my honey bee,” he said as he placed the flowers in my arms.

  “You shouldn't have.” I smiled back at him before giving the roses a good whiff. They smelled intoxicatingly wonderful.

  “I though I might show you my home after we have lunch,” he suggested.

  “That sounds lovely,” I replied, handing the flowers over to one of their maids so that she could put them in water and place them in my room.

  Even at lunch, things seemed to return to normal, and I began to relax as best I could in the presence of strangers. Jack's mother went over all the social clubs they belonged to with me, clubs that I could only assume I would be expected to join once Jack and I were married, and quite possibly before. Meanwhile, Jack and his father talked business. To be honest, I was more interested in the conversation they were having than the one I was engaged in. Then again, business was a much more fascinating topic than who to talk to and who to avoid.

  After lunch, Jack walked me out to a yellow Lamborghini. I did my best not to smirk. It wasn't exactly a vehicle for someone who wanted to keep a low profile, and I couldn't tell if he was purposely trying to attract attention to us, or if he was just trying to impress me. Either way, I decided not to comment on the car.

  “How do you like my parents?” Jack asked as we pulled out onto the main road.

  “They're nice.”

  “Good.”

  And that was the end of conversation until we pulled in front of his equally lavish mansion. Looking up on the towering red-brick structure, it was hard to imagine that this would be my new home soon. More a castle than a house, it was bigger than any single man could ever need.

  Like a perfect gentleman, Jack came around to open the door for me. Then he took me by the hand and led me up the walkway.

  “Soon, I'll be carrying you over this threshold.” I could hear the smile in his voice as he ushered me inside, and a faint warmness entered my heart from his sweet words. How could a man this outwardly gentle and courteous have such dark fantasies?

  Jack took me on the grand tour, showing me all ten bedrooms, his theater room, game room, home gym, indoor swimming pool, and even a small bowling ally. It seemed a bit excessive, definitely built to the needs of a bachelor who likely entertained guests frequently. My mind swam with imagines of the two of us enjoying all of those rooms together once we were married.

  Finally, he led me to a door with a keypad next to it. Jack gazed at it nervously, stuffing his hands in his pockets before turning his pale blue eyes to mine. “This room, I'll show you when you get back from the school.”

  “It's a dungeon, isn't it?”

  My boldness caught him off guard. “Yes, it is.”

  “Then you might as well show me now. I already know what it is. There's no point in hiding it from me.”

  Jack's perfectly calm and cool disposition was suddenly rattled. It would have made me smile if not for the seriousness of the situation. The contents of the room would give me a better idea of what he would expect of me, and I needed to see it so that I could psychologically prepare myself for when I returned.

  Jack hesitated for a moment before entering the pass code into the keypad. The door slid open soundlessly, and he leaned in to turn on the light.

  I did my best t
o still my nerves as I stepped inside. The dungeon looked like something straight out of a horror movie, with manacles hanging from the walls and ceiling. There was a wooden saw horse upholstered with rich black leather in one corner of the room. In another, was a stockade with a t-bar a few feet away. I could only assume that it was meant for the person to be restrained while bending over. Against the back wall was a queen-size bed. It would have been the only innocent looking piece of furniture in the room if not for the steel shackles that were welded onto the bed posts.

  “What do you think?” Jack asked as he watched me cross the room to look at the wall that had a rack of paddles, riding crops, and whips neatly displayed on it.

  I sighed, searching for the right words to say that wouldn't offend him or make our time in the room any more awkward. “I don't know what to think.”

  My true thoughts were that he must be sick to enjoy this. It couldn't be normal—wasn't normal. What had happened to Jack to make him this way and why did he feel the need to force this on me when I obviously didn't want it?

  “I realize that it's a bit overwhelming for you.” He cautiously stepped up behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. My body instantly tensed at his touch. “But we'll be happy together. I promise.”

  How could he make such a promise without even knowing me? It was like saying that a lion could co-exist peacefully with a lamb without knowing the true nature of the beasts. One predator, the other prey. I knew which animal I felt like in that moment.

  “I scheduled your flight for Sunday,” he said matter of factually, dropping the loving fiancé act but still sounding gentle none the less. “You'll arrive in Sacramento where a limousine will take you to the facility in Napa Valley. It's a private place. Very quaint and beautiful. Nestled among grape vines and rolling hills. I think you'll enjoy it very much so. I know that I did when I toured the place.”

  “You toured the place?” I wasn't sure why I sounded surprised. My mind was muddled with shock that I was leaving so soon, among other things. It was yet another surreal moment that my brain was having a difficult time coping with.

  “Of course I did. There's no way I would send the love of my life to a school without approving it myself first.” Jack hugged me tenderly, and for some reason, I did find it comforting.

  “Everything is happening so fast. I didn't expect it to be like this,” I admitted.

  “What did you expect it to be like?”

  I was too embarrassed to admit the truth. Perhaps it wasn't what I had expected, but it was what I had hoped for—that Jack would be like Liam, sweet and romantic, but with a bit more money and style. I had imagined that he would wine and dine me, sweep me off my feet and romance me like a fairytale princess. I imagined us sitting up late at night, telling each other stories of our childhoods—relating on so many levels to growing up wealthy and over protected. I thought Jack would be a kindred spirit—the man of my dreams—the perfect husband.

  “I don't know what I expected,” I told him finally.

  Jack knew it was a lie but didn't press any further. “Let's get out of here,” he whispered. “I would not see you frown a second longer.”

  We left the dismal dungeon and headed out onto the road for some sight-seeing. Everywhere we went, I could feel eyes on us, analyzing our relationship. The paparazzi made an appearance when we toured the Statue of Liberty, and I did my best to seem as poised as possible. Jack was more than willing to pose for the cameras, gathering me up in his arms and placing a confident kiss on my cheek, as if we had already spent a lifetime together. I admired the way he catered to the media, always polite no matter how invasive they got. I only hoped I could hold myself together so well when they got me alone.

  For dinner, Jack took me out to eat at Masa, an exquisite Japanese restaurant in the Time Warner Center. The experience was fun and refreshing, considering that there were no menus to order from. We spent three hours receiving course after course of seafood, sushi, and truffle items. By the time we left, I was practically waddling, I was so full.

  “That was absolutely amazing,” I told Jack as we climbed back into his Lamborghini.

  “I'm glad you liked it,” he replied, simply sitting and staring at me.

  “What is it?” I felt my cheeks burning from his intense gaze.

  “I think this is only the second time I've seen you smile since you've been here.”

  “That's not true.” I was certain I had smiled plenty, so much that my face ached from it.

  “I mean genuinely.” The corner of his lip curled into a grin. “I can tell when you're faking it.”

  “How?”

  “Because your eyes don't wrinkle at the corners when you fake smile.”

  “Are you saying I look old?” My mouth dropped open in mock disbelief, and I could tell by Jack's expression that he seriously believed he had offended me.

  “No, I don't mean that at all—“

  “Jack, it's alright,” I cut him off. “I was just playing. I know what you're talking about. There's a muscle around the eye called the orbicularis oculi. It contracts when someone's smile is genuine, producing laugh lines.”

  He ran his hands through his dark tousled hair. “Wow, beautiful and smart. I really hit the jack pot.”

  I ignored his sudden awkwardness. “Watching the sushi masters prepare the sushi was like watching a painter create art. It was a truly magical experience, and I greatly appreciate it.”

  “We'll experience many more magical moments together,” his tone softened.

  By the time Jack got me home, his parents had already gone to bed. He walked me to the doorstep, pausing in the entryway to gaze deeply into my eyes. My heart pounded in my chest from thoughts of every romance movie I had ever seen. This was the part where the boy kissed the girl.

  I tried to steady myself, allowing my eyes to fall to Jack's lips. They were thin, with a short layer of dark stubble surrounding them. His breathing changed, and I noticed the slight movement of his body as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It felt like an eternity before anything happened, and I tried not to seem too expectant as I stood there, waiting for Jack to kiss me.

  Almost too suddenly, he leaned and placed a chaste kiss on the side of my mouth, sweet and innocent. I wanted more, but didn't dare advance on him. It was his job to take charge. That's what I had always been taught, at least. A proper lady never kissed a man first.

  “I'll see you tomorrow,” Jack muttered before leaving me there, dumbstruck.

  What a mystery Jack Kemble was to me. One minute, he was calm and collected. The next, he was like a shy little school boy on the playground. For someone who had supposedly been with dozens of women, he seemed absolutely clueless about what women actually wanted.

  I sighed as I laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling and letting my mind deconstruct the day piece by piece. Flowers at lunch, a ride in the Lamborghini, and a fancy dinner at Masa. Jack was obviously trying to impress me. And then there was the dungeon, the confident kiss for the paparazzi, and the not so confident kiss on the front stoop. It was strange to realize that he appeared to be more vulnerable when we were alone together, and I couldn't help but feel that Jack was hiding something from me, though I couldn't figure out what it was.

  Thankfully, I was able to get to sleep at a decent hour and woke promptly the next morning in time for breakfast. I trotted downstairs with refreshed vigor. The more I thought about it, things were going fairly well, aside from the strange request for me to attend the BDSM school. Jack had been a perfect gentleman, for the most part, and I was certainly not unhappy when in his presence.

  During the week, Jack had to work at his corporation, so I spent most of the day trailing behind his mother, going to get pampered at the spa and planning the wedding. It quickly became obvious that she thought it was her wedding, not mine, but I didn't bother to argue. There had been few things in my life that I had actually had a say in since coming to New York. Why should my wedding be any d
ifferent? I resigned myself to nodding and smiling, giving my opinion when it was asked of me, and keeping quiet otherwise. These were the cards that I had been dealt, so I would play then with as much grace as a world-class poker player, bluffing my way through when I really wanted to fold.

  In the evening, Jack would pick me up for dinner. He would always take me somewhere over the top, like DaNeil's or GILT at the New York Palace Hotel. As the week progressed, he seemed much more comfortable around me, and I around him. We talked about his day at work, my day with his mom, how the wedding preparations were going, and changes I would like to make to his mansion whenever we were married. The only inclusion I specifically requested was a room where I could work on my paintings. My concert grand pedal harp could go in the living room next to his baby grand piano.

  Every night, when he dropped me back off at his parent's house, he'd give me a chaste kiss on the side of the mouth, and every night, I'd want something more.

  The night before my flight to Sacramento, Jack arranged for an intimate dinner at his mansion. I was pleasantly surprised by the romantic ambiance as he escorted me into his dining room. The long mahogany table was set with fine China, and dim candle light played off the walls from taper candles that were places strategically around a fresh flower centerpiece. The scent of the blooms mingled in with the crisp bite of wine and the tantalizing aroma of cooked fish in a white butter crème sauce. Everything looked and smelled exquisite.

  “Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Jack asked before taking a sip of Chenin Blanc. The dry white wine wasn't particularly to my liking, but I did my best to pretend, nursing my glass with little enthusiasm towards it.

  “Of course I am,” I replied. “To be honest, I don't have much experience with sex.”

  “Well, being a virgin, I would assume not. I called the school and informed them of your situation so that they could make some modifications to your curriculum.”

  “You make it sound so professional,” I smirked, but in the back of my mind, I worried about why he would need them to make modifications at all.