Not stated in the description: This story contains strong language and sexuality. If you're not about that, then this story isn't for you.
If it is, then you're in the right place.
Why are you writing this, Laurel?
I decided to write Fifty Shades of Gay after I saw the explicit abuse, rape, and appallingly awful portrayal of BDSM in Fifty Shades of Grey. By golly, someone needs to right that wrong. In this story, I am aiming to portray BDSM correctly, as well as have my characters express consent. Also, plot. Fifty Shades of Grey consisted of "Holy cow, I love Christian Grey!", "Oh god, is Christian going to hit me? I'm terrified of Christian", "Christian is a stalker creepo but I'm sure that's just a character flaw", and "He raped me but I'm going to say we had sex". That's not plot. That's "sex" (rape) minus plot.
Basically, I want to portray a story that demonstrates "oh fuck yes, spank me!" instead of "oh fuck, is he going to spank me?" because in BDSM, someone should be eager to experience their kink, not scared shitless wondering if their emotionally unstable and egotistical partner is going to hit them. The former is BDSM, the latter is abuse and Fifty Shades of Grey.
So, you like plot? You like character development? You like BDSM? You like sexy, oh so sexy consent? Congrats. You've hit gold, because this story checks off every single item on your list. Now go click to chapter one, you sexy little fucker you.
“They didn't sign.”
The flighty man before the desk shifted uncomfortably on his feet, anxiously awaiting a subsequent explosion of anger. She would be furious about this. Livid. Positively seething. Without realizing it, he mentally prepared to dodge any sudden office supplies that might take flight, and eyed the stapler not a few inches from a pale hand's reach warily. Did he have the reflexes to catch it? If it flew too far to the right, the trajectory would send it careening through the glass window, and into free-fall down several stories onto the streets of New York City.
After a few moments of silence, he blinked. She still sat, staring at the papers strewn in front of her. Was she not paying attention? He cleared his throat nervously. “Ma'am...they—”
“I heard you the first time, James.” The chair creaked and she adjusted her glasses, but otherwise she made no effort to look up. Tension vibrated in the air so tangibly that James could easily run his fingers across it, like plucking tightened rubber bands. He took a deep breath. A full minute had passed and his boss still hadn't reacted—not like she usually did, at least. Silence was a reaction, but it was one he had never encountered before. He decided to take initiative again, as there were not-entirely—patient vipers waiting in the conference room. “Is there anything you'd like me to tell them, ma'am? If you need a few minutes, perh—”
“That's quite alright, James.” It was soft, controlled, and abnormally quiet. Finally, she looked up. Bright, crystal blue eyes betrayed her voice; they were burning not with the in-the-moment hot anger, but with searing cold anger. There, in her stiffening back and clenching fists did James see how his boss was truly feeling. It was dry, detached fury, the kind that came from disgust, not from frustration. It was the kind that came with intentions.
Slowly she rose, shoulders square, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed as if training themselves onto prey. The same hands that were balled into fists now carefully adjusted her blazer. “That'll be all, James.”
Walking with calculated purpose, she made her way towards the door. “Have the rest of the day off,” she answered without turning around. “This is a matter that personally calls for my attention.”
- - - - -
Silently furious Katerina White parted the filled hallways like the Red Sea. The click-clack of her heels against the hard tile caught the attention of passers-by first, who momentarily considered chirping a cheerful greeting to their boss—that is, until her gaze pierced through them like icy spears, and in groups they huddled against the wall and hastily hurried by. Katerina was wound up tighter than the golden bun coiled atop her head, and no one dared to be the first to make her snap.
Katerina didn't get angry often. Yes, she did have momentary outbursts of irritation—James, her assistant, knew that much. When it came to frustration, she found it easiest to release it by shouting at no one in particular, or by throwing an inanimate object across the room, but those flared and died within seconds, just because she didn't like to keep it in her head. Generally, it was in response to a mistake she made herself or the condescending stubbornness of another company she was trying to negotiate with. Rarely did she ever get truly upset with her employees. Poor James. He had witnessed countless numbers of her exasperated moments and still stayed by her side.
Katerina didn't get angry often, but today was one of the days that the camel's back had been broken. This was her limit. There was absolutely no logical reason that this company could use to refuse her offer.
Which only meant there was something more personal that they were mocking her with.
Explosive Katerina was startling—amusing, even, if heard from a distance—but not frightening. Explosive Katerina was only trying to relieve a temporary buildup of vexation. Explosive Katerina quickly returned to stoic, calm Katerina.
Silent Katerina, on the other hand, was downright terrifying. Silent Katerina's smile exposed gleaming canines. Silent Katerina's stare speared through the hearts of her targets. Silent Katerina's regal stature made her peasant opposition grovel at her feet. Silent Katerina offered no mercy. Silent Katerina did not give her enemy time to beg for it.
Silent Katerina walked tall through the halls that day, a charged thundercloud ready to hurl lightning, a coiled snake reared to strike.
Not bothering to knock, she opened the heavy door to the conference room. Quiet conversation and chuckling escaped into the hallway, until it was sliced from the air by Katerina's glare. It swept across the room, cleaving through each slimy man and woman that sat at the long table. Her chin stayed high and her stance did not waver when her gaze finally reached the leader at the far end of the room.
A little rod of a man, Herbert Richardson was the recently crowned heir of Richardson Co., a company that specialized in “technology for the future”. Katerina liked his father enough (though he was a bit exceedingly polite—it made her wonder if he was just awkward or if he was trying to insult her), and she planned on buying the rights to a few of their blueprints. His father agreed to meet with her, but died before he had the chance to arrange an appointment. Heart attack.
Katerina never thought she'd have to deal with his emaciated weasel of a son. Herbert's dry, chapped lips curled into something similar to a smile. “Why, Ms. White, we weren't expecting you!” He rose—underneath this guise of politeness hid a challenge. “We hoped to hear from your assistant, oh, John, was it?”
“James,” Katerina corrected softly. Her surprising lack of resistance prompted Herbert's ambition, and he pushed on. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before it retreated to fashion his next slick words.
“Ah, yes, James.” His brown eyes, riddled with parasitic hunger, locked with her icy ones. “It's a shame, really. That assistant of yours, scampering around like a poor creature. I think you work him too hard.”
“He works for me, and that's all you should be concerned with. To business.” She hadn't raised her voice, and this was mistaken for passiveness. Herbert's grin grew.
“Ms. White, I can assure you I am all business—”
“Don't play coy with me, Mr. Richardson,” she said tersely, yet calmly. The eyebrows of his cabinet rose. “The same exact contract that sits in front of you sat in front of your father. If you're going to tell me you have objections, say them, please.”
Herbert took a moment to consider, and then shrugged. “I have no problem selling these blueprints to anyone. In fact, I've got three more companies on their hands and knees for them—”
The coiled snake lurched back, prepared to strike. Instead of launching to attack, however, Silent Katerina decided to take another route. “What is it?” she asked patiently, hiding the displeasure in her voice.
A sly grin curled around his lips. “I want shares, Ms. White. Sell me shares and I'll give you the blueprints. No haggling.”
Selling shares was like giving a rat the keys to her company. She bared her fangs in a dissembling smile. Reaching for the contract, she asked someone for their pen and scribbled some words down. Herbert snatched it up, scanning over it quickly. His smirk fell, as did the paper onto the table. On it was DENIED.
“Keep your blueprints unless you have another more convincing plan, Mr. Richardson. I do not tolerate such a blatant insult to my intelligence or my skill in negotiation.” The serpent struck. “Stop puffing up your pride around the professionals. You may have inherited a company, but you are still a child.”
The weasel in his eyes was running in circles now, in utter disbelief he had been turned down. He opened his mouth to speak, but Katerina cut him off with a dismissive wave. “I would have preferred to have the blueprints, Mr. Richardson, but my entire company does not hinge off of them.” She opened the door. “This meeting has ended.”
His cabinet, shocked into silence, hastily gathered their things and filed out of the room. Herbert trailed behind last. Katerina watched him carefully. The mere presence of him was unsettling and made her skin crawl. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I'll see you all to the main floor, since James is not here at the moment.”
He only glared as he walked towards her, dejected and defeated, limp like a wet rag. Katerina beamed victoriously, and held her head high the entire elevator ride down to the lobby.
The huge glass doors opened wide, and cabinet members exited into the daylight and bustling streets. Herbert, again, trailed behind last. He stepped out.
Katerina was prepared to close the doors when she felt bony fingers and a sweaty palm grab onto her wrist. A thorny feeling erupted all over her skin in resistance, but he jerked her close enough to where he could whisper in her ear.
“You may be a professional, but you're still a cold-hearted dyke,” he hissed. “Don't think for a second I won't be back for what I deserve.”
Katerina’s fingers twitched, itching to wring that little weasel by his throat and hear him choke and plead for mercy. She generally tried to keep her preference for girls quiet, as men like Herbert loved to exploit her homosexuality and blackmail her with it, twist it in ways that would render her in tough situations with business.
The world of business wasn’t an easy one to live in as a woman—men were constantly eyeing her, blatantly harassing her, throwing innuendos this way and that, commenting on things wholly inappropriate for the workplace. Katerina quickly learned quite a few years ago to steel herself from such words, for she knew they were all idiots—these men, who were taught by their fathers to mimic their behavior.
It was hard enough to be a woman at the top. It was ten times as hard to combat the crudeness of younger men and the stiff, disgusting sneers of older men towards her homosexuality. The young men tended to fetishize it, make it some fantasy like they’d seen in porn they’d jacked off to countless times, cumming to some unrealistic video of a hot “lesbian” with another girl while choking a cock in her throat. Katerina had been asked numerous times if she wanted to come home with a man to “have a little fun” with his wife, who, honestly, was probably suffering from him having an affair anyway. Needless to say, she flatly declined. Those young men, who were once reasonably amiable to her, suddenly gained a change in attitude and made it their motive to cut down Katerina at any angle they could find solely because she didn’t meet their expectations.
And the old businessmen? The few that found out about her sexuality deliberately refused to do business with her. End of story. Their strict, narrow-minded morals immediately labeled Katerina as an even lesser being than before. She was already lesser in their eyes because of her sex; now, she was no more than a sinner in their watery, shallow eyes, those very same eyes that hadn’t flickered over a page of their Bibles in years.
Naturally, because of this, Katerina learned how to grow a tough hide fast. More than once she heard the word “bitch” crawl out from between pretentious, sneering men’s lips, but this hardly affected her anymore. The few smart ones saw past that and knew that doing business with Katerina meant success, because she knew damn well how to manage every single department with her eyes closed.
So it surprised her that she found herself fighting the urge to wrap her lithe fingers around Herbert’s neck, because this happened more times than she could remember. What made this so different? Herbert discovered this somehow, and it wasn’t through his father—his father couldn’t have been more of an oblivious brick wall. Maybe it was because Herbert was already a slimy little bastard anyhow, and though he wasn’t particularly graceful in his business ventures, his unsettling, slick smirk got under Katerina’s skin more than she cared for it to.
Herbert seemed like the kind of boy that, once his little perfect world was rocked by someone he assumed to be under him, would throw such a violent temper tantrum that he would go at any length and measure to destroy the one who disturbed his inflated ego. That was something Katerina had to be wary of.
But, if she played her cards right, she could make him destroy himself, instead—if he was truly as overbearing and prideful as she perceived him to be. Hopefully, he would stay that way. Everyone knows how all the Greek tales go—the characters blinded by their hubris always undermine themselves in the end.
Now the great Grecian hero (or at least, he thought he was) pulled back from her ear, searching her for any response. Katerina suppressed a devilish grin. Ah, this young, naïve little bastard, already puffed up with pride and conceit. Why not make it grow just a little bit more? What harm would come to her if she made him think that he had gotten to her? That he had hurt her feelings?
Katerina’s lips twitched and curled into a snarl. “Get the fuck off my property,” she hissed, jerking her wrist from Herbert’s sweaty grasp. Herbert rewarded her with a victorious smile—little did he know it was her victory—bade her good day, and strode down the streets of New York with joy in his step.
Once he disappeared from her sight, Katerina allowed herself to smile. What a pathetic fool.
- - - - -
“Adam, are you free tonight? It’s been a long day and I need someone to gripe to.”
A hearty laugh boomed through the cell phone’s receiver. “Yeah, Kat, I’m free. Wifey is going out with her friends anyhow. Getting a few drinks with you is always better than sitting at the couch watching TV.”
Katerina chuckled. “I’m glad you find my company so pleasing. Meet me at the King of Clubs in an hour?”
“Aye-aye, Captain. I’m gonna call Jackie and let her know where I’m gonna be. See you in an hour.”
Katerina ended the call and plopped down on her couch, releasing a heavy sigh. The beginnings of a migraine crept around her temples, throbbing dully. Bringing her fingers to her forehead, she rubbed them in circles and closed her eyes.
The rest of the day was, more or less, hectic. She somewhat regretted letting James off early—he was her second set of hands, eyes, and ears, and always knew how to keep her calm. Without him, it took longer than usual to begin gathering information on Herbert Richardson and his involvement in Richardson, Co. She made a mental note to give James a raise in the near future.
Considering how tired she was already, she was grateful that Adam was free tonight. Adam Kim always had a knack of getting her in good spirits again. They had been friends since they graduated from business school together; though he discovered his true passion rested in art, and travelled to Barcelona to pursue it. She was proud of him, and when her schedule permitted, she took time to walk through his art gallery in Manhattan.
His art never ceased to amaze her. He was always experimenting with new media, with new styles; it seemed like each time she came in, there was something completely different hanging from the walls.
She couldn’t resist. She bought quite a few of his pieces and hung them in her penthouse as well as her building, and waved him off when he scolded her for paying over the price tag, even when he offered her a friends-and-family discount. With a bit of insisting, however, she’d made him give in, and now about fifteen pieces hung between her home and her building.
A sharp pain jolted through her head, disrupting her thoughts. The migraine had arrived.
With a groan, Katerina rose from the couch and gritted her teeth together, doing her best to ignore the pain as she walked to her bedroom, freeing herself from her blazer and shirt as she went. Sometimes, it was such a relief just to get out of her business attire. She felt so trapped in it on days like this.
After kicking off her heels, she pushed open the door to her bedroom with her foot and reached to pluck out various bobby pins and ties that held her bun coiled tightly in place. As her light, golden hair fell against her shoulders, she hummed with pleasure and threaded her fingers through the locks, combing it out with care. Thick carpet cushioned her feet as she padded over to her walk-in closet. Katerina prided herself in this area of her life—minor as it may have seemed, her closet was somewhere where she felt the most organized on the days her business was not. Everything was color-coordinated. Jeans on her right, followed by dress pants, then her reds, oranges, yellows, greens, and so on. Pants, shirts, and dresses stayed separate. On the wall directly opposite, a cubby held pairs of her shoes: heels in the middle, sports and tennis shoes on the bottom, flats on the lowest rack, flip-flops and seasonal wear towards the top.
Katerina let out a sigh of contentment and threw a glance at her wristwatch. Seven-thirty. She had about forty-five minutes to get to the King of Clubs.
- - - - -
The King of Clubs was one of those places with personality. It had been Adam and Katerina’s favorite place to go since they were in school together, and when they both graduated and moved on to bigger things in their lives, they both made sure to contribute to the place where they had bonded the most. Adam, being the creative one, offered to custom-paint the bar with unique playing cards from end-to-end. Katerina, being the business-minded one, brought in digital artists to take pictures of the playing cards Adam had painted and had them make a few decks that stayed in the club on various playing tables.
It was at one of these tables that Katerina waited for Adam. She settled on dressing simply that night, having drawn back her long hair in a ponytail and wearing a simple white blouse and jeans. Here, sipping on a beer and fingering through the playing cards, was where Katerina felt most relaxed. The tiger-like side of her fell away as she let herself just sit. There was no responsibility she had to uphold here, no departments to constantly check, no sneering, greasy businessmen that want to snatch away the keys to her kingdom with their sausage fingers.
Her light blue gaze slowly swept across the club. The bar wasn’t too crowded tonight, as it was only a weekday, and the chairs were dotted with a few other people from the New York and Manhattan areas, still dressed in formal attire, sipping on beers and wines, chatting casually as they decompressed from their day. The dance floor was relatively barren, save for an older couple that swayed gently to the quiet music that drifted in the background. The most crowded area, it seemed, were the playing tables. Not many patrons played to gamble—the few that did gambled lightly. Instead, it was more of an atmosphere that welcomed friends to just have a nice time, maybe tease each other over winning or losing a game of cards.
The door to the club opened, and Katerina’s face lit up with a small smile as she waved. Still in a paint-splattered shirt and jeans, Adam Kim strode over to her table. His almond-shaped eyes shined at her. “Good evening, Capt’n,” he grinned, and glanced down at the small pile of cards at his seat. “What are we playing tonight?”
“Rummy. Now sit your arse down so I can complain to you.”
Another laugh boomed from his chest. “Rough day?”
Katerina motioned to the waitress. “You could say that. Besides Herbert Richardson being an absolutely slimy weasel and threatening me, it wasn’t that bad.” She scoffed. “Like hell he’ll take my company away from me.”
“Hold on, now—” Adam paused as the waitress set down a beer next to him. He nodded, and she left. “Why so casual about this guy? He seems like something to worry about.”
Katerina arranged her seven cards by suit and in increasing order, then picked up a new card from the deck. “For now, I’m not. Can you believe he tried to threaten taking shares? In front of my face?” She placed a four of clubs in the discard pile. “He’s completely tactless, Adam. Too big for his business pants.”
Adam’s dark eyes squinted at the discard pile, carefully deciding his next move. “Well, if he’s a little naïve boy thinking that business is his playground, why do you still sound so worried?”
Katerina’s gaze flicked up to Adam, as did his to her. “I sound worried to you?”
He smiled. “I can always hear it in your voice. What are you thinking in that head of yours?”
“I…” She frowned. There was something off about Herbert, she just couldn’t put her finger on it. She shuffled through her cards idly and stared at them, as if they’d give her an answer. “He’s up to something,” she concluded. “He smells like a fish.”
“I don’t like it, either,” Adam murmured. His eyes darted back and forth between his cards and the pile, then placed a three of diamonds down. “What I’m wondering is why he’s after you.”
This made Katerina pause. She didn’t know if he was doing this to every business he dealt with, but if he wasn’t…
Adam tapped one finger against the back of Katerina’s hand. “You okay there, Capt’n?”
With a sigh, she nodded.
“Hey, let’s talk about something else. Nothing better to get your mind off of bad news with good news,” he chirped, giving Katerina’s shoulder a light slap. He managed to wrangle a smile out of her, and she laughed. “What’s the good news, Adam-madam?”
“Dad bought one of my pieces.”
Katerina’s eyes grew wide. Adam’s dad, Seong Kim, was as stern as fathers came. All Adam’s life, Seong pushed his son to pursue a medical or business career—starting from when he was a young child. In his childhood, Seong drilled academia so hard into Adam that he hardly had any friends in elementary school, and in middle and high school, he became more and more isolated. Seong meant well—he only wanted his son to prosper, but when Adam told his father that he loved art more than business, Seong practically disowned him. They didn’t talk for years.
Hyun, Adam’s mother, saved their father-son relationship. Hyun practically threatened Seong that if he didn’t start speaking to his son again, she would leave him. This didn’t take long—Seong and Hyun loved each other dearly, and it would hurt them both if something like that were to happen—and recently Adam and Seong began talking again.
The fact that Seong bought one of Adam’s pieces was a sign that his father was recognizing and accepting his career as valid.
“Adam, that’s fantastic! Which one did he buy?”
“The one that you liked so much, I’m afraid—with the cherry blossoms.” If Adam’s smile could grow any wider, Katerina was sure his face would split in two. He didn’t let it show often, but Adam had really been yearning for that validation from his father.
“Look, your father can buy every single piece that I love as far as I’m concerned.” She wasn’t paying much attention to the game anymore, and absent-mindedly placed a card down in the discard pile. “How’s Jackie?”
“Great, actually. She got a promotion at work, so she’s out celebrating with her friends tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’ve got a gift for her when she gets home.”
This time, Katerina nearly spit out her beer as laughter bubbled up in her throat. Finally, shoulders still shaking from giggling, she swallowed and laughed again. “Oh, shut up Adam. Knowing you, you’ll probably already dead asleep by the time she gets home.”
He tipped his beer to her. “Yeah, you’ve got a good point.” After taking another sip, he leaned forward on his elbows and peered at his cards, while occasionally giving funny looks at Katerina that had her chuckling and swatting at his arm each time he did.
“Stop doing that!” she mockingly scolded. “I don’t want to know what you’re thinking right now.”
Adam lowered his cards and smirked. “I’m thinking—”
“—that you, missy,” he pointed a finger and wiggled it playfully, “have been such a workaholic that you haven’t thought of yourself in months.”
Great. She knew where this was going. “Adam—”
“Come on, Kat,” he groaned dramatically, “when’s the last time you got laid? Huh?” When all he received was a silent glare, he huffed and gestured to her. “See, ladies and gentlemen?” he said to no one in particular, “it’s probably been months.”
“It has not!” Katerina snapped defensively, but Adam was already laughing. “Adam, shut up!”
“Kat, look around. You could get any girl in this bar, easy.”
“Adam, this isn’t a gay bar.”
“You could turn them with your eyes closed. They’d be crying ‘Oh Captain, my Captain!’ as soon as you winked at them, champ.” He winked at her to emphasize his point.
She gave him another glare from behind her beer. “Don’t call me ‘champ’ ever again.”
“Whatever you say, champ.”
“Shut your little Korean mouth before I get your mother down here.”