50 SHADES OF GREY feat. SMARTBALLS

Die ganze Welt spricht über 50 SHADES OF GREY und solltet ihr noch keine Urlaubslektüre haben, kauft euch zumindest mal den 1. Teil der Erotikbestseller-Trilogie. Demnächst auch auf DEUTSCH erhältlich, war das Buch für mich anfangs schon sehr klischeebeladen und typisch amerikanisch: Sie, sexuell unerfahrene Literaturstudentin - die Unschuld schlechthin; Er, gutaussehender Milliardär mit einem dunklen Geheimnis und S/M Vorlieben ... 

Einige der detailliert beschriebenen Sex-Szenen waren wirklich gut beschrieben (auf deutsch würde man großteils wahrscheinlich laut loslachen), aber eine Textstelle hat immerhin einen Massenansturm auf SMARTBALLS ausgelöst! 

Frauen aus der ganzen Welt kontaktieren derzeit das Unternehmen FUN FACTORY, um zu erfahren, wo es die heiß begehrten Smartballs zu kaufen gibt. Dank des Bestsellers "SHADES of GREY - Geheimes Verlangen" ist der Umsatz der Lustkugeln in Amerika um erstaunliche 300 Prozent gestiegen. Aufgrund der starken Nachfrage musste der FUN FACTORY Sitz in Los Angeles sogar einen zusätzlichen Vollzeit-Mitarbeiter einstellen, welcher sich allein um die Smartballs-Bestellungen und die Kundenanfragen kümmert. Die Smartballs sind die heimlichen Protagonisten einer Schlüsselszene, die ich euch natürlich nicht vorenthalten möchte. Also - bevor das Buch auch im deutschsprachigen Raum erhätlich sein wird, kann ich euch allen nur raten, so schnell wie möglich den Shop eures Vertrauens aufzusuchen und folgende Textstelle zu lesen ...

"Get off the bed. Stand over here." He points to beside the bed, and I scramble up and off in double time. He stares intently down at me, his eyes glittering with promise. "Trust me?" he asks. I nod. He holds out his hand, and in his palm are two shiny silver balls linked with a thick black thread.
"These are new," he says emphatically.
I look questioningly up at him.
"I am going to put these inside you, and then I'm going to spank you, not for punishment, but for your pleasure and mine."
He pauses, gauging my wide-eyed reaction.
Inside me! I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench. (...)
"Then we'll fuck, and if your're still awake, I'll impart some information about my formative years. Agreed?"
He's asking my permission! Breathlessly, I nod. I'm incapable of speech.
"Good girl. Open your mouth."
Mouth?
"Wider."
Very gently, he puts the balls in my mouth.
"They need lubrication. Suck," he orders, his voice soft.
The balls are cold, smooth, surprisingly heavy, and metallic tasting. My dry mouth pools with saliva as my tongue explores the unfamiliar objects. Christian's gaze does not leave mine. Holy hell, this is turning me on. I squirm.
"Keep still, Anastasia," he warns.
"Stop." He tugs them from my mouth. Moving toward the bed, he throws the duvet aside and sits down the edge. 
"Come here."
I stand in front of him.
"Now turn around, bend down, and grab your ankles." 
(...)
He places his hand reverently on my backside and very softly caresses it with his whole hand. (...) I close my eyes tightly as he gently moves my panties to the side and slowly runs his fingers up and down my sex. My body braces itself in a heady mix of wild anticipation and arousal. He slides one finger inside me, and he circles it deliciously slowly.
(...)
I hear him gasp as he repeats the motion. He withdraws his finger and very slowly inserts the objects, one slow, delicious ball at a time. (...) They're body temperature, warmed by our collective mouth. It's a curious feeling. Once they're inside me, I can't really feel them - but then again I know they're there.
He straightens my panties and leans forward, and his lips softly kiss my behind.
"Stand up," he orders, and shakily I get to my feet.
Oh! Now I can feel them ... sort of. (...)
"You okay?" he asks, his voice stern. 
"Yes."
"Turn around." I turn and face him.
The balls pull downward and involuntarily I clench around them. The feeling startles me but not in a bad way.
"How does that feel?" he asks.
"Strange."
"Strange good or strange bad?"
"Strange good," I confess, blushing.
"Good." There's a trace of humor lurking in his eyes.
"I want a glass of water. Go and fetch one for me please."
(...)
"And when you come back, I shall put you across my knee. Think about that, Anastasia."
(...)
As I leave the bedroom, it becomes abundantly clear why he wants me to walk around - as I do, the balls weigh down inside me, massaging me internally. It's such a weird feeling and not entirely unpleasant. In fact, my breathing accelerates as I stretch up for a glass from the kitchen cabinet, and I gasp. (...) I may have to keep these. They make me needy, needy for sex.
He's watching me carefully when I return.
(...)
"Come. Stand beside me. Like last time."
(...)
"Ask me," he says softly.
I frown. Ask him what? (...)
"Ask me, Anastasia. I won't say it again." (...)
"Spank me, please ... Sir," I whisper.
He closes his eyes momentarily, savoring my words. Reaching up, he grasps my left hand and he tugs me over his knees. I fall instantly, and he steadies me as I land in his lap. (...) He clasps my hair at the nape to hold me in place. He tugs gently and my head shifts back.
"I want to see your face while I spank you, Anastasia," he murmurs, all the while softly rubbing my backside.
His hand moves down between the cheeks of my behind, and he pushes against my sex, and the full feeling is ... I moan. (...) The sensation is exquisite.
"This is for pleasure, Anastasia, mine and yours," he whispers. He lifts his hand and brings it down in a resounding slap against the junction of my thighs, my behind, and my sex. The balls are forced forward inside me, and I'm lost in a quagmire of sensation. The stinging across my behind, the fullness of the balls inside me, and the fact that he's holding me down. (...)
Then his palm disappears, and he brings it down again. I groan as the sensation spreads. He starts a pattern: left to right and then down. The down ones are the best. Everything moving forward, inside me ... and in between each smack he caresses me, kneads me - so I am massaged inside and out. It's such a stimulating, erotic feeling, and for some reason, because this is on my terms, I don't mind the pain. 
(...)
"Good girl, Anastasia", he groans, and his breathing is ragged. He spanks me twice more, and the he pulls at the small threads attached to the balls and jerks them out of me suddenly. I almost climax - the feeling is out of this world. Moving swiftly, he gently turns me over. I hear rather than see the rip of the foil packet, and then he's lying beside me. He seizes my hands, hoists them over my head, and eases himself onto me, into me, sliding slowly, filling me where the silver globes have been. I groan loudly. 
"Oh, baby," he whispers as he moves back, forward, a slow sensual tempo, savoring me, feeling me.
It is the most gentle he has ever been, and it takes no time at all for me to fall over the edge, spiraling into a delicious, violent, exhausting orgasm. As I clench around him, it ignites his release, and he slides into me, stilling, gasping out my name in desperate wonder.
(Fifty Shades of Grey, p. 362 - 366/Arrow Books 2012)