50 Shades of Grey – Chapter Twenty

Christian took Ana to his parents’ house for a meal, but disaster struck when Ana revealed her plans to go away for a bit. Christian, angered by this meagre flame of independence, took her into the garden, told her he wanted to give her a good thrashing, and slung her over his shoulder to carry her to the romantic privacy of the boathouse. Because apparently Neanderthal is sexy.

Read Chapter Nineteen.
Read the whole lot on ‘The Fifty Shades Saga‘ page.

50 Shades of Grey
Chapter 20

Fluorescents ping and buzz in sequence as harsh white light floods the large wooden building.

Nothing like some harsh, revealing lighting to get you feeling frisky.

…he’s carrying me up some stairs to the room above.

Billionaires have boathouses with two storeys.

…beyond brave, I tentatively reach up and run my fingers down his cheek…

You’ve called yourself brave before and I’ve called you out on it. It’s far too presumptuous to call yourself brave, especially when all you’ve done is stroke a man’s face.

“You said no … At the dinner table, with your legs … No one’s ever said no to me before.”

God, Ana. What were you thinking? If he wants to finger you with his parents in the room, you DAMN WELL LET HIM.

“I’m going to fuck you on the couch this minute, quickly, for my pleasure, not yours.”

That’ll be tricky. She seems to orgasm the second you touch her. With ANYTHING.

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket. He takes out a foil packet…

Can’t be too prepared for a family dinner.

“Don’t come, or I will spank you”

Which has previously made her come. Seriously, there’s nothing you can do that won’t give this woman an orgasm.

Holy crap … how do I stop?

Think about ANYTHING that happened to you prior to Christian, because apparently you were never turned on before.

He … stills as he finds his release. … He stands and removes the condom, knotting it at the end, and puts it in his pants pocket.

For someone so rich, his life seems to be distinctly lacking in bins.

From his inside pocket, he produces my panties. … I’ve taken a punishment fuck but gained a small victory over the panties. … [I] didn’t have to ask for them.

He’s berated you for not pleasing him, taken you the moment he wants you, forced you not to orgasm, and you think GETTING YOUR PANTS BACK WITHOUT ASKING is a victory?!

…as much dignity as I can muster in my just-fucked state. Quickly, I attempt to smooth my just-fucked hair.

Yes, ‘just-fucked’ appears twice, that close together.  Because it’s so fucking quirky to use the same fucking adjective so fucking often.

They go back to the house. Kate tells Ana that she thinks Christian is controlling. LOL.

I KNOW WHAT HE’S REALLY LIKE – YOU DON’T!

Shu’up, Kate, you’ve got no idea. Nobody does. It’s like nobody gets him but me. You guys just don’t understand. LEAVE US ALONE-uh! *flounces off*

The depressing thought about how I came to be invited pops unbidden and very unwelcome into my head.

I literally had to read this sentence five times to understand it. Probably some grammar and punctuation would have helped.

In the car, Ana says she thinks Christian felt trapped into inviting her to dinner, because Elliot brought Kate. Christian spouts some spiel about how amazing and wonderful she is, and how she shouldn’t be so negative, which is clearly meant to speak directly to any insecurities the reader might have. He really did want her there, blah blah blah, if only all women had a man to validate them like this.

“You are quite funny.”
“Funny?”
“Oh yes.”
“Funny peculiar or funny ha-ha?”
“Oh … a lot of one and some of the other.”

This unrealistic verbal posing is but a small sample of the bullshit they spout on the drive home. It’s as vapid and pointless as the characters themselves.

Holy crap. How did this suddenly become such an intense and meaningful conversation?

It didn’t.

I’m too frightened to show you any affection in case you … beat me

I cannot repeat this enough: he has told you in advance he would like to beat you, and you have agreed to be beaten. This is sexual foreplay between two consenting adults, not domestic abuse.

We are both shrouded in darkness, masking our thoughts and feelings…

Because in the bright light of day, thoughts and feelings are visible to all.

…his face is intermittently in the light and the dark. And it’s such a fitting metaphor.

She dedicates a whole paragraph to explaining said metaphor, as if the light/dark contrast isn’t the SIMPLEST THING TO UNDERSTAND EVER.

“I’ll sign your contract.” And it’s a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Yes, a spur-of-the-moment decision you made six chapters ago.

“Sign after Georgia. Think about it. Think about it hard, baby.”

No! We’ve put up with her ‘thinking about it’ for pages and pages. Please, just stop!

…a small part of my nasty harpy subconscious acts completely out of character and dares to hope.

Actually, that’s entirely IN CHARACTER. Never have you ever thought about this situation in a sensible, practical manner.

“Sooner you’re in bed, sooner you’ll be fucked, and sooner you can sleep.”

Charmer.

“Don’t you want to fuck?” he asks.
“I want you to make love to me.”

This should be interesting.

He refuses. She says she wants to touch him and he says that’s a hard limit for him.  Then he gives her a t-shirt to wear and says they should just go to sleep. Also he repeats the ‘fifty shades of fucked up’ reference, because we haven’t heard it enough.

I leave my panties on; I haven’t worn them for most of the evening.

I am aware.

“Tell me [why you don’t like to be touched] and you can [spank me again].”

He seems to have forgotten the fact that he’s her Dominant, and can therefore spank her without relinquishing any information. But whatever. That’s only the ENTIRE POINT OF THE BOOK.

Suppose he returns with a cane, or some weird kinky implement? Holy shit, what will I do then?

Enjoy it, like you did last time, you moron.

He holds out his hand, and in his palm are two shiny silver balls linked with a black thread.

I read Casanova’s memoirs (for the most part, not very exciting) and he used something like this.

“I am going to put these inside you, and then I’m going to spank you … and if you’re still awake, I’ll impart some information about my formative years. Agreed?”
He’s asking my permission!

Hardly.

He makes her suck the balls, then he sucks them (stay with me). Then he puts them inside her. You know, down there.

Fuck, this is sexier than the toothbrush.

It takes very little to be sexier than a toothbrush.

…as I [walk] the balls weigh down inside me, massaging me internally. … I may have to keep these. They make me needy, needy for sex.

As if you need any help being needy.

He lifts his hand and brings it down in a resounding slap … the balls are forced forward inside me, and I’m lost in a quagmire of sensation.

Quagmire? You may as well say you were lost in an erotic bog.

He … eases himself into me … It is the most gentle he has ever been …

Christian ‘I-fuck-hard’ Grey is making love. What sort of hold does this amazing woman have over him? What kind of a temptress is she? An unrealistic one, that’s what.

“The woman who brought me into this world was a crack whore, Anastasia. Go to sleep.”

Sweet dreams.


Read Chapter Twenty One.

Why not let me know what you think? You can buy the first book here, or the entire trilogy, if you’re a glutton for punishment. Ironically.

About abusive relationships
Domestic violence helpline 0808 2000 247
Help for abused men 0808 801 0327

About eating disorders
Eating disorder helpline 0845 634 1414

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4 Comments on “50 Shades of Grey – Chapter Twenty

  1. Ew, how can any woman find it hot the fact that he just leaves his used condoms on the floor and generally doesn’t dispose of them properly? I mean, I know they’re kind of gross and slimy but still; you’d think a rich person would know better. (maybe he’s used to having somebody around to clean them up but still, you’d think one of his maids would be like “Chris, honey. Put these in the garbage. I’m sick of picking these up.”)

    >_<

    • Yes! I don’t care how rich you are – don’t chuck used condoms on the floor.

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