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Linotte Reads “Fifty Shades of Grey”: Chapter Eight

Happy Monday!  And here’s the recap of Chapter Eight of Fifty Shades of Grey.  Now before plodding on, I’m going to give you fair warning: This chapter isn’t only not safe for work, but also has the unsexiest sex scene I’ve ever read.  So make sure you’re not eating or drinking something, because you may spit out whatever is in your mouth in either laughter or disgust.

Beautiful. I flush with pleasure. Christian Grey thinks I’m beautiful. I knot my fingers together, staring at them hard, trying to conceal my goofy grin. Perhaps he’s nearsighted, my subconscious has reared her somnambulant head. Where was she when I needed her?

Clearly drunk on the job!

“I thought you didn’t make love. I thought you fucked hard.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
He gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down there.
“I can make an exception, or maybe combine the two, we’ll see. I really want to make love to you. Please, come to bed with me. I want our arrangement to work, but you really need to have some idea what you’re getting yourself into. We can start your training tonight – with the basics. This doesn’t mean I’ve come over all hearts and flowers, it’s a means to an end, but one that I want, and hopefully you do, too.”  His gray gaze is intense.
I flush”¦ oh my”¦ wishes do come true.

Wow…how unromantic!

 

“You are one brave young woman,” he whispers. “I am in awe of you.”
His words are like some kind of incendiary device; my blood flames. He leans down and kisses my lips gently, and he sucks at my lower lip.

Ana at this moment.

His bedroom is vast. The ceiling-height windows look out on a lit-up, high-rise Seattle. The walls are white, and the furnishings are pale blue. The enormous bed is ultra-modern, made of rough, grey wood like driftwood, four posts, but no canopy. On the wall above it is a stunning painting of the sea.

This is the painting. Isn’t it stunning?

I am quaking like a leaf. This is it. Finally, after all this time, I’m going to do it, with none other than Christian Grey. My breath is shallow, and I can’t take my eyes off him. He removes his watch and places it on top of a chest of drawers that matches the bed, and removes his jacket, placing it on a chair. He’s dressed in his white linen shirt and jeans. He is heart-stoppingly beautiful. His dark copper hair is a mess, his shirt hanging out ““ his gray eyes bold and dazzling. He steps out of his Converse shoes and reaches down and takes his socks off individually. Christian Grey’s feet”¦ wow”¦ what is it about naked feet?

Yeah, what is it about naked feet?  Because I think I’ve missed out.  Are you a foot fetishist, Ana?

Still kneeling, he grasps my foot and undoes my Converse, pulling off my shoe and sock. I raise myself up on my elbows to see what he’s doing. I’m panting”¦ wanting. He lifts my foot by the heel and runs his thumbnail up my instep. It’s almost painful, but I feel the movement echoed in my groin. I gasp. Not taking his eyes off mine, again he runs his tongue along my instep and then his teeth. Shit. I groan”¦ how can I feel this, there? I fall back on to the bed, moaning. I hear his soft chuckle.

Shit, I don’t know.  Maybe he practices reflexology?

[M]y whole body sings with the sweet agony. He just doesn’t stop.
“Oh”¦ please,” I beg, and I pull my head back, my mouth open as I groan, my legs stiffening. Holy hell, what’s happening to me?
“Let go, baby,” he murmurs.

Calling her baby all the time is.  Not.  Sexy.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Steele,” he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex. “Hard,” he whispers, and he slams into me.
“Aargh!” I cry as I feel a weird pinching sensation deep inside me as he rips through my virginity. He stills, gazing down at me, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph.

Virginity is a social construct, just an FYI.  And you know who she sounds like?

 

I stretch out beside him, feeling loose-limbed, my bones like jelly, but I’m relaxed, deeply relaxed. I grin at him. I can’t stop grinning. Now I know what all the fuss is about. Two orgasms”¦ coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine, wow. I had no idea what my body was capable of, could be wound so tightly and released so violently, so gratifyingly. The pleasure was indescribable.

Then why are you describing it?

“Open your mouth,” he commands and thrusts his thumb in my mouth. My eyes fly open, blinking wildly.
“See how you taste,” he breathes against my ear. “Suck me, baby.” His thumb presses on my tongue, and my mouth closes round him, sucking wildly. I taste the saltiness on his thumb and the faint metallic tang of blood. Holy fuck. This is wrong, but holy hell is it erotic.
“I want to fuck your mouth, Anastasia, and I will soon,” his voice is hoarse, raw, his breathing more disjointed.
Fuck my mouth! I moan, and I bite down on him.

This is not sexy! This is just disgusting!

“Oh, please,” I beg. I’m not sure I can take much more. My body is wound so tight, craving release.
“I want you sore, baby,” he murmurs, and he continues his sweet, leisurely torment, backward, forward.
“Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I’ve been here. Only me. You are mine.”

Um…does this creep you out, too?

His playing is stunning. Leaning against the wall at the entrance, I listen enraptured. He’s such an accomplished musician. He sits naked, his body bathed in the warm light cast by a solitary freestanding lamp beside the piano. With the rest of the large room in darkness, it’s like he’s in his own isolated little pool of light, untouchable”¦ lonely, in a bubble”¦.I notice now that he’s wearing PJ pants.

His piano playing is stunning.  His apartment is stunning.  The painting over his bed is stunning.  The view from his apartment is stunning.  Did I mention how stunning he is?  And he’s wearing PJ pants…holy fuck, is he stunning in those!

We both glance down at the bed at the same time. There’s blood on the sheets ““ evidence of my lost virginity. I flush, embarrassed, pulling the duvet tighter around me.
“Well, that’s going to give Mrs. Jones something to think about,” Christian mutters as he stands in front of me.

He must have a high turnover in housekeepers, huh?

And that’s a wrap for the day.  If you’re not mentally and emotionally scarred and need some serious brain bleach, you’re made of stronger stuff than I am!

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28 thoughts on “Linotte Reads “Fifty Shades of Grey”: Chapter Eight”

    1. I’m sorry if it seems like that.  My intention was more to make fun of the cheesiness of the scenes and the author’s writing style.  But looking at it from the perspective of someone reading this (as you are), I can see how it seems that way.

       

    2. I don’t think that’s a very fair assessment, Savannah. I don’t know how much previous knowledge Linotte has of the kinky community, but let’s assume for the moment that, like many people reading 50 Shades, she doesn’t have any. Based on my own experiences in the kink community in San Francisco, I know I can say that this book is a terrible introduction to how the BDSM world works, and if this were my first experience of it, I wouldn’t care for it either.

      Or let’s say that Linotte does know something about BDSM. In that case, she’d probably be able to work out that the character of Christian Gray is not a good representative of what a dominant should be, either in terms of the boundaries he sets or the way his “contract” with Ana is set up.

      Either way, I’m not sure how one can make the leap from “Linotte thinks this book is stupid” to “Linotte is kink-negative.”

      (Of course, it may be that she is opposed to BDSM, for whatever reason. This is a valid opinion to have and she is free to express it.)

      1. I agree with Dr. Song – as someone who is into BDSM, this book is not about BDSM at its core, in the same vein that Twilight is not about love. I get that it is bringing a subculture to a larger audience, but the author has really tempered things down to make it palatable to Twi-moms reading it in the airport. Instead of trying to represent the ideas of power, it comes out as the same sort of innocent girl taken in by whole man being and going with all his whims.  It’s not kink, its borderline abusive love fantasy watered down. That’s not what being a submissive is about.

        This passage especially – “Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I’ve been here. Only me. You are mine.” reminds me of the highly debated scene in Twilight where sparkle vamp fucks sparkle not vamp so hard that it almost breaks her or whatever. Which would be awesome if that’s what she was into cause lord knows i am. But instead, its the idea that its consensual because there’s no direct no and that’s what its supposed to be like.

        As someone who has directly experienced kink shaming, I keep panning back in this piece looking for something that gives me that “ugh, no one gets it” type of icky feeling I get when I read Dan Savage or Cosmo (put a banana in your vagina! that’s BDSM!).And the only thing that makes me squick is the authors Twilight fan fiction turned into a predominant and accepted representation of kink and BDSM. And its not. At least not for me. And I’m glad Linotte and other people are making fun of it, because at the end of the, its bad fan fiction sprinkled with what someone thinks kink is. Can anyone maybe point out where there seems to be kink shaming and we can continue the discussion further other than “your kink negative” ?

        Does anyone know if the author is actually into BDSM? I keep asking people this question and I really have never gotten an answer.

        1. That’s it–I’m emailing her.  Like now.

          ETA: I looked under FAQs on her website. Here it is, and I quote:

          How did you do the research for your books?

          The Internet! Sometimes I phoned various experts (that I found through the internet), or asked questions on Twitter. And sometimes I devised my own experiments…

          1. yea…I dont know how I feel about the most publicly accepted book on BDSM being written by someone who seems to have never been involved in BDSM.

            You know what its like? Remember that movie Burlesque with Cher and Christina Aguilera? Thats like when it was tromped out as original burlesque. NOPE.

      2. ust for the record, I’m neither opposed to or unopposed to it.  It’s more of a “don’t knock it till you try it” attitude.  That being said, while the media (particularly this book) sometimes portrays people who engage in BDSM as deeply troubled, that is not shown to be the case in reality.

         

        What’s problematic about this book is the abusive dynamic between Ana and Christian and how Christian is into BDSM because he’s “fifty shades of fucked up.”  Add to this Ana’s preference for Byronic “literary heroes,” the references to Tess of the d’Urbervilles, the attitude that sexual assault and harassment are no big things, Ana’s own shame about her sexuality as a woman, and Christian’s controlling attitude, it’s a hot mess.  Plus the scene in which Christian shows Ana his “playroom” is eerily reminiscent of the scenes in Jane Eyre in which Jane hears the noises from the attic and investigates and finally finds out who’s really locked up there on her wedding day.

  1. he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex.

    “My sex”? Do people even talk like that anymore? James wrote erection. So is it really so hard to say? Repeat after me: VAGINA. VA. GIN. A.

    Fuck, even “pussy” would be better.

  2. Ha! Converses. There’s no way around imagining this as Bella/Edward.

    Good god, it actually IS possible to over-describe a scene. To over-describe EVERY.SCENE. Take a break once and a while. Sometimes a dude takes off a watch, nothing more.

     

  3. The good news is, I had a semi-awful weekend and looked at Lucy gifs to cheer me up meaning I have all sorts of goodies to share when this gets rough…

    And man, that was rough. The ‘baby’ thing might have been the most painful for me because this is my reaction when someone calls me baby…

    No. Just no.

     

  4. Dear everyone: your hymen is not your cervix. It’s not alll the way in there.

    It is not up the canal by any means! It’s not a portcullis halfway to the cervix! It’s not a barrier up the valley, a logjam obstructing the path of the river of love, a dam in the reservoir of passion. IT IS NOT INSIDE ANYTHING.

    THE HYMEN IS EXTERNAL.

    http://www.blogher.com/where-hymen. Also http://keriokie.blogspot.ie/2012/01/mythical-hymen-revealed.html

    You’re welcome.

    1. Has anyone ever actually interviewed EL James and asked her 1) where did she get all these wacky ideas about what BDSM is supposedly like and 2) how can she know so little about the type of body she currently inhabits?

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