Fifty Shades of Grey Tentacles (6 page)

“Hmm, well, OK... but... ”

“And I'll see you in the tentacle dungeon
later.”

“Tentacle dungeon!
You have a tentacle
dungeon
?”

“Yes.”

“OK,
no
problem, we can talk about it
another time, or, whatever.”

“I'll see you later Elle.” He said, standing
up, and touching me lightly on the cheek, and then he walked away,
his powerful frame swaying like a cowboy.

...

Morris showed me around Grey Mansion, telling
me about the colonial history of the many roomed building,

“This room is done in light grey.” Said
Morris, opening the door to one of the rooms to show me.

“This other room is painted in cadet grey.”
He then said, opening another door to yet another room.

“And this other one is quite special.” Morris
said with aplomb, “It's done in rocket metallic grey, a color you
often see in Tintin's 'Destination Moon', Mr. Grey's favorite book
as a child.”

I began to grow quite weary of all the
different grey colored rooms, and asked Morris exactly how many
there were.

“There are fifty shades of grey bedrooms, all
with a slightly different shade.”

“Well, you really don't have to show me all
of them. I get it.” I said, wondering when I was going to get some
tentacle sex as it was already getting dark outside.

“When will I go to the tentacle dungeon
Morris?” I asked, noticing his old wrinkly faced, good-natured
spirit for the first time,

“After Dinner Miss. James; here, follow me,
it seems about time now.”

I walked into the large dining room, with an
open fire at one end blazing, which I thought unnecessary as it was
Summer. Candle sticks adorned the table, and Grey was already
seated at one end waiting for me. The table was filled with all
kinds of dishes, more food than I could ever possibly eat, but I
would definitely try, I didn't want to be rude after all.

“Ah, Ellie, there you are, please take a
seat.”

I sat, and Morris put a white napkin over my
lap. Grey was at the other end of the table, and I found we almost
had to shout to hear each other.

“Do you often eat like this Mr. Grey?”

“What?”

“I said, do you often eat like this Mr.
Grey?”

“Huh?” He said, holding his hand to his
ear.

“DO... YOU... OFTEN... EAT... LIKE... THIS?”
I shouted, clearly.

“Yes.” He replied, “I often sit like this, I
have a bad back because of always trying to hide my tentacles.”

“NO, I SAID... OH FORGET IT.”

“Get it? GET WHAT?”

I decided to take the initiative and change
seats to sit beside Grey. He seemed quite shocked.

“Oh, Miss. James, this is quite against
protocol.”

“Oh screw protocol.” I said, rearranging my
napkin in my new position and still feeling a little irritated
after his many shades of grey bedrooms tour. “I can't even hear you
from down there.”

“Well, if you insist Miss. James.”

“I do, Mr. Battleship.”

Grey watched me begin wolfing down the fillet
mignon, I was famished, and although I didn't usually like men
watching me eat, by that point I really didn't care.

“You have quite an appetite.”

“That's what my mother always said.”

“I'd like to meet her one day.” Said
Grey.

By saying that, I knew he was serious about
me. And spilling some sauce by accident onto my cleavage, I went to
wipe it off,

“Here, let me.” Said Grey, standing up and
leaning over and licking my breasts, taking the sauce into his
mouth. I felt my body shiver.

“Oh Mr. Grey, isn't that against protocol?” I
asked.

“Not on my planet it's not.”

I questioned Grey about his childhood, and
Grey told me after he'd been stranded here on Earth, Morris had
taken him under his wing, and had been like a father to him.

“So you mean Morris also knows you're a
tentacled alien? I thought you said it was just me, you and Morgan
Freeman who knew your secret.”

“Morgan Freeman is my acting coach.”

“Your acting coach? Why would you need an
acting coach?”

“So I can learn how to act just like humans
do, mimicking normal human behavior.”

Grey then told me that after I'd gone off
with Morris, that he'd called Morgan as he was himself unsure of
his reactions when he'd laughed like The Count from Sesame Street.
Morgan had apparently told him it was a most inappropriate laugh
for the situation.

“Yeah, well it did seem a bit strange.” I
told him honestly.

Grey definitely needed help on Earth, he was
so helpless in some ways, but eminently powerful in others. I
looked at him, sitting there looking at the floor, seeming slightly
ashamed of himself,

“It just seemed like such a good laugh, you
know? Really expressive and all.” He shrugged.

“Ya, five year old's think so too.” I
said.

“Can you tell me in what situations it's OK
to laugh like The Count?”

“Probably none really.”

“That's a pity.”

“It's sure is.” I agreed, taking a gulp of
red wine and deciding to finish off the lonely looking garnished
petite-pois dish in the middle of the table. Grey went on to tell
me how he had grown up on Earth not really understanding humans or
human ways, and that Morris had taught him most of it, including
everything he knew about women, but the problem was, Morris was
gay, and didn't really understand women either.

“As far as I can understand Elle, women want
a man to shower them with attention, but only certain kinds of
men.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, before I was a billionaire I owned a
Hot-Dog stand. And no matter what I did, no women were interested
in me.”

“So?”

“After I became a billionaire, women
positively threw themselves at me; so I can only surmise that women
like men with money, status and power.”

“Oh well, I'm not like that Mr. Grey.”

“So if I were a taxi driver, would you love
me?”

“There's no need to be extreme Mr. Grey! You
could have said lawyer, doctor or banker.” I said, waving my fork
in the air.

“I see. So basically you don't like men who
have to work with their hands in some way?”

“That's not true at all Mr. Grey! I love
firefighters for example.”

“What about policemen?”

“Ya, as long as they have a uniform, I'd be
quite happy.”

“So, the crux of it is, if I have money,
status, power or a uniform, you could love me for who I really
am?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I'm not the superficial
type Mr. Grey.”

“So how about if I were working in McDonalds,
and wearing one of their uniforms?” He asked.

“No Mr. Grey! God no!”

“I just don't understand women.” Sighed
Grey.

I saw how confused he was, and reached over
and touched his hand. His problem was one man since the beginning
of time had, the one where women stated one thing, but then their
actions showed something completely different.

I decided to try and console him,

“Mr Grey, if you were a muscular and sexy
taxi driver, I might consider it.”

“So strong genetics is a factor then?”

I sighed, this really wasn't the romantic
conversation I'd expected, dissecting the mysterious, beautiful and
complex emotions of women was just too much for me to discuss with
my mouth full.

“Mr Grey, I need to confess something to you,
not to make you jealous or force you to make a commitment to me,
but just because I want to be honest.”

“Go on.”

“The other night as I was walking back to
college - because you didn't have your driver take me home - I was
attacked by a gang of youths, intent on probably raping me.”

“Really! This is terrible news! What
happened?” Said Grey, looking very concerned.

“Here's the thing, a tentacled superhero
saved me.”

“There's another tentacled man in
Gothom!?”

“That's what I thought!” Realizing I wasn't
so stupid for thinking it such an amazing coincidence in the first
place.

“And anyway Mr. Grey, as a reward, I allowed
him to kiss me, and touch my tits a little.”

“He touched your tits!?”

“Now, now, Mr. Grey, there's no need to be
jealous, I just want you to know that I'm a little confused about
my feelings right now.”

“I see Miss. James, well, perhaps the
tentacle domination is off for tonight then.”

“No,
no
, that's not what I mean! I
mean, perhaps if I knew where we stood, I'd be able to be clearer
in my feelings toward you.”

“I understand Miss. James.” He said firmly,
and then rang the bell for Morris to come in.

Morris came in and Grey told him to fetch the
contract. I wondered what contract that was; perhaps it was a
contract to be a consultant at the Grey Candy Group's headquarters,
but I was shocked by what Morris placed it in front of me as he
moved my bowl of ice-cream and crushed nuts to one side. Reading
over it I didn't know what to say.

The contract stipulated that I would be
Grey's submissive sex slave, and that I was to submit to anything
and everything he told me to do. The training - as the contract
referred to it as - would involve some pain in the form of
spanking, which I was looking forward to, but also some vaguely
worded terms such as: 'forced anal penetration'. And another obtuse
one: 'I strangle you until you're almost dead, for fun'. The whole
thing made me feel uneasy, and so I said to him,

“Well, look, we don't have to talk about this
now.” And handed the contract back to him.

“But I thought you said you wanted
commitment?” Grey said, confused.

“Well, a contract just isn't very romantic
Mr. Grey.”

“Well, romance and commitment are hardly the
same thing now are they?”

“Sure they are. Marriage is very romantic for
example.”

“Really? And how many long-term married
couples do you know that are still romantic with each other?”

“Erm... ” He had a point, I couldn't think of
any, except that sometimes when my grandfather farted, my
grandmother would then give him a big double thumbs-up.

“Look, maybe we should just discuss this
another time.”

“But I don't know if I can really trust you
unless you sign the contract Elle.”

I noticed Grey had some trust issues, he'd
obviously been mistreated by an over-bearing alien mother. Grey
called for Morris again and whispered something in his ear, and he
left and returned several minutes later as Grey started caressing
my bare legs. Morris had a silver tray, and on it was what looked
like a credit card.

“Miss. James, perhaps you don't quite
understand what you will get out of being my submissive, apart from
hot tentacle bondage sex.”

Grey took the credit card and held it in his
hand, showing it to me.

“Here is an Adamantium credit card, with
unlimited purchasing power.”

“Adamantium? Isn't that the non-existent
metal that Wolverine's exoskeleton is made from?”

“Exactly.”

“Shouldn't it be a Platinum card? There's no
such thing as Adamantium on Earth, after all.”

“That's the point, it's the rarest metal
known to man, and therefore the most valuable one. It far outstrips
platinum in value, I can assure you.”

Grey held out the card toward me, but I was
still pensive,

“Morris,” Said Grey to his butler, “bring in
the other thing for Miss. James.”

Morris came back as Grey was looking me
sternly and masterfully in the eye, making me feel like I'd
misbehaved. Morris handed Grey a case covered in blue velvet, which
he then handed to me,

“Open it Elle.”

I did as I was told, and opened it curiously,
and then I was astounded. Inside was a jewel encrusted tiara, with
diamonds, rubies and emeralds and some other stones I didn't know
the names of,

“For me?” I asked, with a big smile
stretching across my face,

“Well, only if you sign the contract.”

“Where's the pen! Where's the pen!” I
shouted, unable to control myself, priceless tiara in one hand and
an unlimited Adamantium credit card in the other.

Morris handed me a mont-blanc pen from his
jacket, and I snatched the contract back off him and signed my name
quicker than I'd ever done anything else before in my life.

“Oh Mr. Grey, can I wear it now, can I?”

“Of course you can, here, let me put it on
for you.”

Grey placed it on my head and I got up and
walked over to the Victorian mirror on the wall. I looked like a
princess, and Grey came up behind me and held both my shoulders and
whispered in my ear,

“You look beautiful Miss. James.”

I did stop to think if anyone would think me
a bit of a slut for signing the contract when he'd handed me the
credit card and tiara, but it didn't really matter what 'they'
thought, I said to myself, as I'd be in a limo from now on, and
they'd still be riding public transport. I was also in love, and
that had certainly been the main impetus in my decision.

“Elle, I want to get my tentacles inside you
right now.”

“Oh Battleship, I thought you'd never ask.” I
said, truly dying for it by that point.

Grey took me by the hand and walked me out of
the room and then down some stairs along a hidden passageway and
then we arrived at a bolted door and he announced that inside was
the tentacle dungeon. Grey opened the door and pushed me inside
roughly. Looking around, I couldn't see any of the usual tools of
the trade I'd often written about that a BDSM expert should own. In
fact, the room had nothing but a hardwood table in the center of
it, no manacles on the wall, no ropes, no whips or chains; there
was certainly nothing for Rihanna to sing about in that room. I
turned back to Grey, who was padlocking the door closed and put the
key into his pocket, he then flung his jacket onto the floor,