Fifty Shades of Grey

I loved this book – which is slightly disappointing because I really didn’t want to like it. I took notice when I saw 50 Shades of Publicity. I stopped short and practically spilled my coffee all over myself when I saw it mentioned on the morning news. I knew that this book contains spanking and some BDSM and I just couldn’t reconcile that fact with it being on the NY Times Best Selling list. If the vanilla folk think it's great, can it really meet a spanko's standards? I doubted it, so I decided to opt for 50 Shades of Indifference and kept reading the books I have queued up for www.bottomsupbookreview.com.

 
But then something happened and my 50 Shades of Indifference turned to 50 Shades of Concern. What happened, you ask? My mother called to say she’s been hearing so much about this book and wanted to know if I had a copy she could borrow. That was the last straw - I needed to read this book and find out what everyone was talking so much about.

So, I started reading late one Sunday evening. By Monday night I had a sink full of dirty dishes, a neglected laundry room full to the brim with dirty clothes, a slightly irritated husband, two restless kids, and a whole new respect for E L James.

50 Shades of Grey focuses on the innocence of Anastacia Steele and Christian Grey’s burning need to dominate and control her. Christian’s interest in Ana began the day she came to interview him for her school paper. Against his better judgment, Christian pursues Ana and presents her with a contract of submission. Should she accept, she would be his property and would be required to follow his rules and cater to his sexual needs. A hesitant Ana agrees to try and we the readers are treated to the struggles she faces as she tries to understand the needs and desires of the man she is quickly falling in love with.

E L James does a phenomenal job getting into the head of an innocent girl who has been immersed in an unfamiliar world of bondage, spanking, submission, and dominance. Going so far as to create characters for the various parts of Ana’s subconscious, James is able to communicate how Christian’s world is affecting her on many different levels. 50 Shades is written in a way where the reader is not just introduced to the characters, but empathizes with them.   

For instance, after being warned that rolling her eyes at Christian will earn her a trip over his knee, Anastacia struggles with her breathing, her pulse, and her stomach before asking herself, “Why is that hot?” Fortunately for the reader, it isn’t long before that question is answered:

 

“Oh, Anastasia Steele, did you just roll your eyes at me?”

Crap.

“No,” I squeak.

“I think you did. What did I say I’d do to you if you rolled your eyes at me again?”

Shit. He sits down on the edge of the bed.

 

“Come here,” he says softly.

I blanch. Jeez… he’s serious. I sit staring at him completely immobile.

“I haven’t signed,” I whisper.

“I told you what I’d do. I’m a man of my word. I’m going to spank you, and then I’m going to fuck you very quick and very hard. Looks like we’ll need that condom after all.”

His voice is so soft, menacing, and it’s damned hot. My insides practically contort with potent, needy, liquid, desire. He gazes at me, waiting, eyes blazing. Tentatively, I uncurl my legs. Should I run? This is it, our relationship hangs in the balance, right here, right now. Do I let him do this or do I say no, and then that’s it? Because I know it will be over if I say no. Do it! My inner goddess pleads with me, my subconscious is as paralyzed as I am.“I’m waiting,” he says. “I’m not a patient man.”

Oh for the love of all that’s holy. I’m panting, afraid, turned on. Blood pounding through my body, my legs are like jelly. Slowly, I crawl over to him until I am beside him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now stand up.”

Oh shit… can’t he just get this over with? I’m not sure if I can stand. Hesitantly, I clamber to my feet. He holds his hand out, and I place the condom in his palm. Suddenly he grabs me, tipping me across his lap. With one smooth movement, he angles his body so my torso is resting on the bed beside him. He throws his right leg over both of mine and plants his left forearm on the small of my back, holding me down so I cannot move. Oh fuck. “Put your hands up on either side of your head,” he orders.

I obey immediately.

“Why am I doing this, Anastasia?” he asks.

“Because I rolled my eyes at you,” I can barely speak.

“Do you think that’s polite?”

“No.”

“Will you do it again?”

“No.”

“I will spank you each time you do it, do you understand?”

Very slowly, he pulls down my sweatpants. Oh, how demeaning is this, demeaning and scary and hot. He’s making such a meal of this. My heart is in my mouth. I can barely breathe. Shit, is this going to hurt?

He places his hand on my naked behind, softly fondling me, stroking round and round with his flat palm. And then his hand is no longer there… and he hits me – hard. Ow! My eyes spring open in response to the pain, and I try to rise, but his hand moves between my shoulder blades keeping me down. He caresses me again where he’s hit me, and his breathing’s changed – it’s louder, harsher. He hits me again and again, quickly in succession.

Holy fuck it hurts. I make no sound, my face screwed up against the pain. I try and wriggle away from the blows – spurred on by adrenaline spiking and coursing through my body.

“Keep still,” he growls. “Or I’ll spank you for longer.”

He’s rubbing me now, and the blow follows. A rhythmic pattern emerges, caress, fondle, slap hard. I have to concentrate to handle this pain. My mind empties as I endeavor to absorb the grueling sensation. He doesn’t hit me in the same place twice in succession – he’s spreading the pain.

“Aargh!” I cry out on the tenth slap – and I’m unaware that I have been mentally counting the blows.

“I’m just getting warmed up.”

He hits me again then he strokes me softly. The combination of the hard stinging blow and his gentle caress is so mind numbing. He hits me again… this is getting harder to take.

My face hurts, it’s screwed up so tight. He strokes me gently and then the blow comes. I cry out again.

“No one to hear you, baby, just me.”

And he hits me again and again. From somewhere deep inside, I want to beg him to stop. But I don’t. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. He continues the unrelenting rhythm. I cry out six more times. Eighteen slaps in total. My body is singing, singing from his merciless assault.

“Enough,” he breathes hoarsely. “Well done, Anastasia. Now I’m going to fuck you.”

He caresses my behind gently, and it burns as he strokes me round and round and down. Suddenly, he inserts two fingers inside me, taking me completely by surprise. I gasp, this new assault breaking through the numbness around my brain.

“Feel this. See how much your body likes this, Anastasia. You’re soaking just for me.”

There is awe in his voice. He moves his fingers, in and out in quick succession.

I groan, no surely not, and then his fingers are gone… and I’m left wanting.

“Next time, I will get you to count. Now where’s that condom?”

He reaches beside him for the condom and lifts me gently, pushing me face down onto the bed. I hear the sound of his zipper and the rip of the foil. He drags my sweatpants off and then guides me into a kneeling position, gently caressing my now very sore behind.

“I’m going to take you now. You can come,” he murmurs.

What? Like I have a choice.

And he’s inside me, quickly filling me, I moan loudly. He moves, pounding into me, a fast, intense pace against my sore behind. The feeling is beyond exquisite, raw and debas-ing and mind blowing. My senses are ravaged, disconnected, solely concentrating on what he’s doing to me. How he’s making me feel, that familiar pull deep in my belly, tightening, quickening. NO… and my traitorous body explodes in an intense, body-shattering orgasm.

“Oh, Ana!” he cries out loudly as he finds his release, holding me in place as he pours himself into me. He collapses, panting hard beside me, and he pulls me on top of him and buries his face in my hair, holding me close.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes. “Welcome to my world.”

It has been said that E L James had hoped to replicate the success of the Twilight series with her 50 Shades series. I think she may have done just that!

I have two criticisms concerning 50 Shades of Grey, although they have more to do with the media frenzy surrounding this novel than with the actual novel itself. First, as a spankophile, I am disappointed that yet another BDSM character that has made it to the mainstream is in fact “damaged” in some way. The first four years of Christian Grey’s life were hard and left him with both physical and emotional scars. Similarly, Lee Holloway of “Secretary” discovered she craved the discipline and domination of Edward E. Grey (hmmmm, same last name - coincidence?) after being released from a mental institution. For the record, you don’t have to be 50 Shades of Fucked Up to enjoy spanking, dominance, or submission.

Secondly, I have read more than one article that says E L James invented a new genre known now as “mommy porn.” You have got to be kidding me! This genre has been around longer than I have. E L James did not invent it, but she certainly took a stab at perfecting it.

Bottom line - read this book. You will love it. I did!