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50 Nights in Gray
A Sensual Journey in Black and White
50 Nights in Gray
Text Laura Elias Illustrations Benjamin Wachenje
Night ONe Night twO Night three Night FOur Night Five Night Six Night SeveN Night eight Night NiNe Night teN Night eleveN Night twelve
The Journey Begins Lust on Ice Desire Takes Flight The Slow Strip Coming Clean
Through the Lens After Hours
In the Public Eye The Heat of the Moment The Naughty Missionary From the Waist Up Eat Me Up
Night thirteeN Night FOurteeN Night FiFteeN Night SixteeN Night SeveNteeN Night eighteeN Night NiNeteeN Night tweNty Night tweNty-ONe Night tweNty-twO Night tweNty-three Night tweNty-FOur Night tweNty-Five
Head Over Heels
A Touch of the Lash Taken from Behind At Your Service Deep Love
Bad Girls Get Spanked
Helpless with P leasure Swept Off My Feet A Firm Hand
Pain Becomes P leasure The Rule of Three
You Will Meet a Stranger The Girl in the Long Red Coat
Night tweNty-Six Night tweNty-SeveN Night tweNty-eight Night tweNty-NiNe Night thirty Night thirty-ONe Night thirty-twO Night thirty-three Night thirty-FOur Night thirty-Five Night thirty-Six Night thirty-SeveN Night thirty-eight Night thirty-NiNe Night FOrty Night FOrty-ONe Night FOrty-twO Night FOrty-three Night FOrty-FOur Night FOrty-Five Night FOrty-Six Night FOrty-SeveN Night FOrty-eight Night FOrty-NiNe Night FiFty
The Changing of the Guard A Foretaste of P leasure Story Hour Trust Me
Taking the Collar In My Hands Caught in the Middle Taking Your Licks Teacher Needs to See You After School I’ll Be Watching You I Toe the Line Kitten in Heels The Stiletto Samba The Wake-Up Call X Marks the Spot In a Bind Traffic Stop
Stay a While
Behind My Man
The Back Passage Face to Face Going Up
The Journey Continues A Tantalizing Toybag Closing the Book
The Journey Begins
“I want to learn,” I told him, as I lay back on the bed, still a little dazed from the intensity of our lovemaking. He trailed a silk scarf down my body, sending little ripples of sensation along my skin. “There’s a lot to learn,” he said. “What do you want to know?” “Everything,” I said bravely, after a brief hesitation. Did I really want to open this door? Could I even guess what might lie behind it? “Everything,” I repeated, a bit more firmly. He smiled. “Then your education begins tomorrow. When you wake, I will have delivered a blank journal to you. I want you to document your journey, your investigations, the lessons we will study together. Show your work —this is a serious assignment. I want to see pictures, instructions, and, above all, your personal reflections. The results may . . . surprise you.” “Will I be graded?” I joked. He looked silently at me, and suddenly I felt a little nervous. What had I just signed up for?
Lust on Ice
“Where are we going?” I whispered, gazing out of the cockpit of his private jet. “ You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, as he shifted the yoke. Dry canyons and golden sands appeared below, and the sun’s merciless heat pressed in around us as we landed. “Undress,” he ordered. I gasped. Was he ordering me to walk naked into a searing desert? The heat hit me like a wall of flame as I walked barefoot down the plane’s steps. “Come,” he commanded, leading me to a white silken tent. “Lie down.” I stretched out on satin sheets, my body slicked with sweat. Our lips met as he leaned over me; his kiss was glacial, and I jolted at the icy chill. “Down,” he said, and took an ice cube from his mouth, drawing it over my burning skin. The contrast was startling . . . and intensely erotic. He swept the melting ice across my nipples, making them stiffen, then tugged them with hot fingertips, and I moaned at the sudden change. “ You’re very hot, darling,” he said, circling the ice around my navel, and down. “Let’s see if we can cool you off.” I parted my legs, awaiting his icy touch on my innermost need.
Desire Takes Flight
The next evening, he undressed me in front of his living room windows. As the city glimmered below, he slid the straps of my dress off my shoulders, then deftly unclasped my bra and pushed down my panties. “Remain still,” he said, and slid open the glass doors to the balcony. Cool night air teased me, increasing my anticipation as he reached into an antique bureau. “Close your eyes,” he ordered, and I quickly obeyed. Something soft and ticklish curved across my breasts, and I arched my back, maddened by the gentle teasing. “More,” I whispered, surprising myself. “Quiet,” he hissed, drawing the soft object over my shoulders, and up to my lips. Finally he drew it downward and flicked it mockingly across my nipples. I moaned as he traced small circles down my abdomen. He parted my thighs with his hands, and curiosity got the better of me. I peeked, and saw that he held a long crimson feather, which he drew slowly between my thighs. I opened my legs wider, shaking with the sensation as he gently teased me. “ Touch me now,” I begged. “Later,” he said, smiling. “ There’s so much more I’ll do to you first, my darling.”
THE SEXY SECRET 1. Ask your partner which outfit you should wear for his pleasure. Pin up your hair so you can later shake it down as you strip. Be sure to avoid anything too complicated. 2. Caress your body with your hands so he can imagine what’s under those clothes. Tell him he can’t touch you until you say so. 3. If you’re stripping out of a skirt, don’t shatter the fantasy by tripping over it. Pin it down with one foot while freeing the other, then kick it away. 4. Turn, pose, cock a hip, and toss your hair in loose, sexy tendrils as you remove each piece of clothing. 5. Those sexy shoes come off last— if at all. There’s nothing like a pair of pumps on a beautiful, naked woman. Stockings too? Your call. Experiment to see what works.
The Slow Strip
“ You’re learning,” he said to me, turning the pages of my journal. “But you’re still only a student. I’ve been seducing you, but now it’s time for you to seduce me.” “How can I do that?” He’d always been the one to say what he wanted, always the one to taunt and tease— never the other way around. “Stand up,” he commanded. I did, nervously smoothing the simple blouse and skirt I’d worn to work that day. “Good,” he said. “Run your hands over your body. You’re going to strip for me.” He touched a button, and sensual music filled the room. I blushed, but slid my hands down my sides, unbuttoned my blouse, and let it drape off my shoulders. “ Very good,” he said. I let the blouse fall, growing more confident, reaching for the waist of my skirt. He stopped me with a look. “Slowly.” I nudged the blouse away with a heel and raised the skirt to flash my garters. He hissed out a breath, and I turned, teasing him with a rear view. “Now,” he said. I slid slowly out of the skirt. I stood before him in the heels and lingerie he’d bought for me, and felt suddenly powerful. I began to ease my panties over my hips as he reached for me . . .
The sun was setting when I arrived at the hotel. I had a surprise for him —and I couldn’t wait to show it off. I laid out the things I’d bought: a short black dress, a tiny white-lace apron, black stockings, black pumps . . . and a pair of thin latex gloves. Perfect for washing the dishes, I thought as I dressed —or a sexy man. It seemed crazy — maybe he’d laugh, or get angry. But I felt like someone else in those scraps of lace and silk. When I heard his key in the door, I went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and plunged my gloved hands into the sink. He halted at the doorway, watching while I arched my back to show a glimpse of my rear under the tiny skirt. I sank to my knees, running the sponge over the pristine tiles, making sure he could see my breasts rising and falling. “ You missed a spot,” he said softly as he knelt behind me and took hold of my hands, slowly stripping off the gloves. “And maids who can’t do their jobs properly . . . ” My head fell back upon his shoulder as he used my own hands to caress me through the uniform, whispering all the delicious punishments to come.
THE SEXY SECRET: 1. Lay down a sheet or towel that you don’t mind throwing away after, to protect bedclothes. 2. Use a special massage candle or a plain, unscented white paraffin candles (dyes can burn). 3. Let wax pool in the candle before dripping, to cool it a bit. Test it on the inside of your wrist to make sure its cool enough before using on your partner. 4. Start dripping from at least three feet above your partner; if they enjoy the sensation, try dripping from a lower height to intensify sensation. 5. A massage candle’s wax turns to scented oil. With a regular candle, you’ll need to carefully scrape the wax off with a butter knife.
The Heat of the Moment
When he led me into the bedroom, I thought it seemed . . . uncharacteristically romantic. The bed was draped in satin; a row of simple white candles flickered on the table. Had my prince of pain decided on a more conventional evening, with satin sheets and soft candlelight? “Lie down,” he instructed me, pushing me to the bed, my face smothered in the folds of satin. Naked, exposed, I shivered in the cool night air. “Perhaps this might warm you up,” he whispered, and I felt something splash onto my skin. The sensation was repeated, first warm and sensual, then sharper, hotter, almost scalding. The candles! He was dripping wax onto my skin, raising and lowering the candle to vary the intensity, and my pleasure. All too soon, I felt cold steel against my skin. I tensed nervously, but he was only using the flat of a knife to scrape the wax from my skin, teasing me with the blade. When my skin was clean, he sank his strong fingers into my flesh, kneading away my tension, preparing me for what would come next.
Swept Off My Feet
He stepped back, eyeing me from head to foot. I glimpsed myself in the playroom’s wide mirror, feeling foolish. The scrap of fuchsia taffeta he’d dressed me in was split to the crotch, saved from obscenity only by a flimsy black g-string below it. “I look like a lap dancer,” I groaned. “ You look . . . unbelievable,” he said, drawing a fingertip down the deep V of the neckline. Somehow even this made me cranky. “No,” I said, starting to pull the thing off me and move away. “I don’t want this tonight.” Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. And he sensed it too. He knew me far too well. Before I reached the door, he’d knelt down and grasped my arm, flinging me bodily across his shoulders. I gasped. He was even stronger than I’d realized. He easily stood, my weight across him, clasping me in place with a single firm hand. He turned to smile at me. “Where to, my love?” he whispered. “Shall I carry you home?” “No,” I said, smiling against his shoulder, loving the sensation of weightlessness. “Carry me . . . to bed.”
The Girl in the Long Red Coat
Our relationship was at a new milestone: He’d invited me to dinner with his colleagues. We arrived at a stark modern loft, all marble and steel, and his coworkers and their elegant wives greeted me curiously, assessingly. Our host offered to help me out of my long silk coat, but I declined. “I get so chilly in big houses,” I apologized, smiling politely. As we filed into dinner, he jerked me around a corner, into a dark hallway. “What are you playing at?” he hissed. I opened my lapels, pressing my naked breasts forward. “ This,” I whispered seductively. “Now, of all times?” he snapped. “Do you understand where we are, who we’re with?” “I understand perfectly,” I said, unbelting the coat. Underneath, I was bare and smooth, right down to my blood-red pumps. He gasped with frustration and yanked the coat shut, buttoning it tightly before we entered the dining room. I smiled through the first course, knowing he’d be stroking my thigh before the entrée, fingering me during dessert, and taking me—hard —in that dark hallway while his colleagues sipped cognac and wondered who, exactly, I was.
The Changing of the Guard
My journal was filled with photographs, drawings, stories of what he done with me, and details of my dreams and fantasies filled its pages to overflowing. We entwined on the couch, exhausted after hours of riding each other, and he read aloud from it, praising my conscientious work. I rolled on top of him. “I’ve graduated, then,” I said. “My studies are complete.” “One’s studies are never complete,” he replied. “I plan to teach you for the rest of your life.” He shifted under me, ready to begin again, but I halted him. “ Tomorrow I’ll be sending a blank notebook to you, instead,” I announced. “And I expect you to fill it just as I did. It’s my turn to play teacher, darling, and yours to play the dutiful student.” He considered the idea, laughter lurking somewhere in his dark eyes. “And one more thing,” I said, running a finger down his sweating chest. “I’ll need the keys.” “Which keys?” “The keys to your playroom, darling. I’m going to turn it into my classroom, with you as my student.”
THE SEXY SECRET: 1. Sample a nibble or a light bite of your lover during foreplay to see if he enjoys a taste of pain with his pleasure. If he does, bite slightly harder and ask if he’d like more. 2. Shoulders, the nape of the neck, the tender insides of arms and thighs, toes and fingers: Everything’s fair game for a gentle bite. Work them in unexpectedly to jolt your lover—try nipping him during his orgasm, when even painful sensations can feel pleasurable.
A Foretaste of P leasure
On the floor in the playroom, I nibbled lightly at his bare toes, still damp from our languorous bath together. He squirmed, ticklish, so I increased the pressure, nipping him hard on the instep, then running my long fingernails up the back of his calf, along his thigh, and to his well-muscled abdomen. I lingered there a moment, watching his erection, knowing what he anticipated. Yet I bypassed that temptation and moved onward, sweeping my lips across his, biting him lightly along his jawline and then on one ear. That pleased him—he shifted in his chair, reaching for my hands. I moved out of range and stood behind him. Then I leaned over, grasped his erection in one hand, and softly placed my teeth on his neck. “Would I make a good vampire?” I breathed. “No,” he said, moving against my hand. “ You’d be wonderfully evil.” I bit him harder, sensing the blood pulsing just beneath his skin.
P r e S i d e N t , C e O Terry Newell e x e C u t i v e e d i t O r Mariah Bear v P , P u b l i S h e r Roger Shaw
P r O d u C t i O N d i r e C t O r Chris Hemesath P r O d u C t i O N M a N a g e r Michelle Duggan
C r e a t i v e d i r e C t O r Kelly Booth
Weldon Owen would also like to thank Ian Cannon and Bridget Fitzgerald for editorial help. Katie Cavenee provided design assistance.
2012 Weldon Owen Inc. 415 Jackson Street | San Francisco, CA 94111 www.wopublishing.com All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Weldon Owen is a division of
Library of Congress Control Number on file with the publisher ISBN 978-1-61628-536-4 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 2012 2013 2014 Printed in the United States of America
i l l u S t r a t i O N S Benjamin Wachenje
t e x t Laura Elias
This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?