‘Fifty Shades Darker’ Excerpts (NSFW)

I don’t condone book burning, unless it’s the Fifty Shades Of Grey series. 

If I had Tyler Shields’ photography skills and a camera worth more than $150 dollars I would buy several copies just so I could take photos of myself ceremoniously tossing them into a massive bonfire.

I’m not supportive of E.L. James and her “talent” for writing erotic novels. Novels about the two worst examples of each gender – people who I would personally shoot on sight if they weren’t fictional.

Christian Grey, who was abused as a child and now does nothing but sexualize a woman (Anastasia Steele) feels oppressed by the fact that she’s allowed to vote and work someplace other than a brothel. 

I have skimmed through the first and now the second tome, Fifty Shades Darker, in order to provide you with hilariously bad excerpts that will hopefully deter anyone from wanting or needing to read FSD in its entirety.

Even if they are short, vapid, and operate on a third-grade reading level, I wouldn’t wish this torture on anybody.

James mentions chaise lounge (a type of sofa) and her “inner goddess” more times than I can count. Also, there’s a proposal, a jealous gun-toting ex, and balls.
_______________________________________________________________________________________

“Well, you have all those canes and whips and stuff in your playroom, and they frighten the living daylights out of me. I don’t want you to use them on me.”
“Okay, so no whips or canes—or belts, for that matter,” he says sardonically.

“No rules.” I shake my head, but my heart is in my mouth. Where is he going with this? “But you don’t mind if I spank you?”
“Spank me with what?”
“This.” He holds up his hand.
I squirm uncomfortably. “No, not really. Especially with those silver balls . . .”

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that. I told you I am not going to touch you until you beg me and tell me what to do.” My inner goddess is writhing on her chaise longue. I am lost; he’s not playing fair. “Please,” I whisper.

“Touching is a hard limit for me, Anastasia,” he whispers.
“I know. I wish I understood why.”
After a while, he sighs, and in a soft voice he says, “I had a horrific childhood. One of the crack whore’s pimps . . .” His voice trails off, and his body tenses as he recalls some unimaginable horror. “I can remember that,” he whispers, shuddering.

He undoes his jeans and drops them to the floor. He is gloriously naked. My inner goddess is doing a triple axel dismount off the uneven bars, and abruptly my mouth is dry.

He looks so freaking hot, young and carefree—sitting on me and eating from a tub of ice cream—eyes bright, face luminous. Oh what the hell is he going to do to me? As if I can’t tell. I nod, shyly.

I pull against my restraints and the bed creaks ominously, but I don’t care—I’m burning with desire, it’s consuming me. He takes another spoonful and lets the ice cream dribble onto my breasts. Then with the back of the spoon, he spreads it over each breast and nipple.Oh . . . it’s cold. Each nipple peaks and hardens beneath the cool of the vanilla.

“Come on, baby,” he growls through gritted teeth and on cue, like the sorcerer’s apprentice I am, I let go, and we find our release together.

I’m not going to need any lubricant at this rate. He puts the balls in his mouth as I fellate his finger, twirling my tongue round it. When he tries to withdraw it, I clamp my teeth down.

He stands and chalks his cue, his eyes burning into me.
“If I win . . .”
Oh yes?
“I am going to spank you, then fuck you over this billiard table.” Holy shit. Every single muscle south of my navel clenches hard.

“Good girl.” He steps back a fraction as he slides on the condom. “God, I can’t wait for the next six days,” he growls and gazes down at me through hooded eyes. “I do hope you’re not overly fond of these panties.” He tears through them with his adept fingers, and they disintegrate in his hands.

He takes pity on me and stops. Lifting my feet off the keys, he pushes me; and suddenly, I’m sliding effortlessly up the piano, gliding on satin, and he’s following me up there, briefly kneeling between my legs to roll on a condom. He hovers over me and I’m panting, gazing up at him with raging need, and I realize he’s naked. When did he take off his clothes?

“You’re cutting me to the quick here, Ana. Will you marry me?”
I sit up and lean over him, placing my hands on his knees. I stare into his lovely face.
“Christian, I’ve met your psycho ex with a gun, been thrown out of my apartment, had you go thermonuclear Fifty on me—”

“What’s this?” I hold up the silver bullet thing.
“Always hungry for information, Miss Steele. That’s a butt plug,” he says gently.

Oh! Hesitantly I pull the drawer open, not taking my eyes off his beautiful but rather smug face. Inside there are an assortment of metal items and some clothespins. Clothespins! I pick up a large metal clip-like device.
“Genital clamp,” Christian says.

I take a deep breath and head back out into the club. I mean, it’s not as if I haven’t gone panty less before. My inner goddess is draped in a pink feather boa and diamonds, strutting her stuff in fuck-me shoes.

“I know what you’re doing.” His voice is low and husky.
“I know that you know, Mr. Grey,” I reply softly. “That’s the point.” I pick up an asparagus stalk, gaze sideways at him from beneath my lashes, then dip the asparagus into the hollandaise sauce, swirling the tip round and round.

“Open your mouth.” My mouth is already open from panting. I open wider, and he slips a large cool metal object between my lips. Shaped like an oversized baby’s pacifier, it has small grooves or carvings, and what feels like a chain at the end. It’s big. “Suck,” he commands softly. “I’m going to put this inside you.”

Read:Fifty Shades Of Grey’ Excerpts (NSFW)

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