50 Shades of Mumsnet. A collaborative book.

[TiggyD]

Bernard met Beverly.
"Hello Beverly" said Bernard.
"Hello Bernard" said Beverly.
All Beverly's clothes fell off. Bernard smacked Beverly on the bottom and put his winkie into her woo woo.
"Ooooh, ahhhh, mmmmm, thank you Bernard" Said Beverly. "That was very nice. Can we try fisting tomorrow?"
"Maybe" Said Bernard mysteriously.
Bernard went back home to await the plumber who was due at about half past four to sort out the problems with Bernard's toilet, although Bernard was pretty sure it was caused by his poor diet, he thought he'd get it checked anyway.
Beverly went back to her home and thought about all the fun she would get up to with Bernard in the future chapters, and to comb the dried semen from her hair.

Next chapter please...

The parking war escalated, as the neighbour became insensed about the chav wagon parked on his double drive way and took out the lovingly tended pampas grass with a chain saw - "swap keys now will ya? Ya fuckers" said the neighbour. Beverly noticed his masterful tone and started to see Bernard as a bit of a mummy's boy........

"And a sign in his drive way that said no turning" signed by the feminist icon who coined the phrase "the lady is not for turning"

She couldn't help but wonder: "Could it be that Bernard had been spanked over appliances as a child? Should someone phone the social?" although her inner goddess said "Didn't do him any harm, and did me a lot of good, in fact I'd quite like a trip to the utility room with a spatula sometime soon (Bernard could get up much of a backswing in the Beemer). Her inner feminist rolled her eyes...

"Bernard" called Beverly "I'm having evil thoughts and think I might need a jolly good spanking on the ironing board, perhaps with a baking tray"

couldN'T get up much of a back swing - sorry, fail.

Beverly made her way to the utility room, only to hear muffled declarations of love and lust, burst in to find Bernard in the corner with a full set of lakeland kitchen utensils, stroking the potato masher like one would a china doll........

She was filled with jealousy and rage. Her inner feminist yelled "Mash his member with the sodding masher", but instead Bernard looked up, his eyes clouded with lust and a desire for pain. "Take you clothes off and put on the apron" he whispered. Beverly inner goddess tripped over herself in preparation to be an orgasming Nigella Lawson. Her ego, logic and feminist fucked off to the pub until the smacking, sex touching and shattering into a million pieces all over the kitchen counter was completed.

Helga the cleaning lady had just cleaned the kitchen. As Beverley waited for her sex to cool, she though about how Helga cleans behind the fridge.

Bernard entered the kitchen wearing only his mankini

'beverly its 6am and i NEED some kinky fuckery'

'oh my' said Bev while thinking holy crap have a i shaved my lady garden!

Her clothes fell off anyway and Bernard threw her down on the kitchen counter...

"Don't think, Beverley," whispered Bernard masculinely, manlily. "You know the contract which we forgot to sign says I think for you." Beverley bit her lower lips again. Holy crap, he was right! Her inner goddess smiled meltingly and was punched by her inner feminist, returned from the pub.

and for a moment her self-esteem crawled out from behind her hypothallamus where it had been hiding for several weeks. Is this what you were educated for? Is this what you went to University for? So some man on a power trip with 50 shades of Domestic appliance fetishes and a penchant for smacking girls to relieve his stress could pound on your waxed, child like lady bits...

But then Bernard blew on those same lady bits, her goddess came bounding back into the room, kicking self-esteem in passing and she prepared herself for her 19th multiple orgasm in the last half an hour

Oh my

Beverly's inner goddess revelled in her nine hundredth multiple orgasm. Meanwhile, Beverley's domestic goddess wondered if she could get out from under Bernard quickly enough to catch Helga before she went off shift. Bernard's constant cumming anywhere and everywhere was having a most detrimental effect on Beverly's wardrobe, and she felt sure Helga would have some good tips for her. For sure, the Bold Automatic wasn't doing much good.

But wait! What was this Beverly spied in the corner of the utility room, half hidden behind a pile of Bernard's dirty silky slacks. It looked suspiciously like a pouffe, a leather pouffe, a leather pouffe with bits of poo smeared into it.

You utter bastards!!!!

Now I'm going to have to read the actual book purely to come back and enjoy this thread properly.

I'm already dying of laughter and I have no idea what it's about!

Meanwhile, upstairs in the en suite bathroom with avocado suite and loop pile three piece mat set, Edna scrabbled feverishly at the buttons on her mobile phone...
Hello, hello, is that Shawna-Mae-Kaitlin? Well my name is Edna, and the website said I had to call you to suggest guests for the show you research for. What? Oh yes, I think Jeremy's viewers will be very interested in what I have to say...

Back in the utility room, completely unaware of Edna's perfidy in the shagpiled ensuite, Beverly had managed to shake Bernard off (with some help from the fast spin cycle on the Zanussi). Bernard staggered dizzily, and manfully, around the room, whilst Beverly cornered Helga.

"Come, Helga"

Helga approached warily for Beverly was brandishing her underwear in what could only be called a flagrant manner.

"Come, Helga"

Helga came nearer still until her nose was nearly touching Beverly's. Bernard watched hopefully - was there to be some girl on girl action?

Beverly suddenly realised Helga had misunderstood her:

"No Helga, not "come", but cum, look here on my knicks. How do I get it off?"

Bernard, bored of listening to Helga and Beverly, wandered into the lounge. Edna, having spilt the beans to Jeremy, had switched to Wimbledon, and the 306" screen of the new telly was filled with the scantily-clad, long-legged, orgasmically shrieking figure of a statuesque blonde. Bernard's eyes (good as new after their adventures) were not drawn to the tennis playing goddess however, but rather to the the large tennis racquet being so expertly wielded in her shapely hands. Now there was a thought ....

"Bev", he called, "I'm just off to sports direct. I'll be back with a nice surprise for you, make sure you get your plimsoles on".

because, of course Bernard is not only the best looking man on Earth, the richest man on Earth, an accomplished pilot, an expert fisherman and capable of playing concert level piano concertos, he is also an ex ATP tennis player.

While he was out looking for a really well strung racquet with a large surface area and a comfy grip, Beverly headed back to the state of the art computer he gave her as a bribe to get her to do as he told her to and logged back onto Mumsnet. Surely there are BDSM boards?

"i'm laters baby" said Beverley, as she worried about hair colour being hereditary.

Beverley was waiting in the beemer for beautiful Bernard to return. Obedient as ever, she was wearing her new Asics trainer and very little else. Bizarrely, there was a piece of netting strung between the front and back seats of the car - Beverley spent several delightful moments sitting astride the net before reclining invitingly in the back seat.

Bernard tore open the car door, and seeing Beverly prostrate on the back seat, entered swiftly, tennis racquet first.

"Ooh", squealed Beverley, "rougher!"

Bernard redoubled his efforts. The net twanged. The racquet thwacked.

"Rougher" screamed Beverley.

Bernard preened. He had certainly taught this latest sub well, she was taking all he could throw at her and demanding more.

He went for it once again, sweat streaming down his brow, his valiant member thrusting mightily.

"Bloody hell, wtf are you doing, you stupid bastard!" screamed Beverley.

"I'm getting rougher like you said" said Bernard, bemusedly.

"Not rougher you idiot, Rafa. Rafa. I wanted you to pretend to be Rafa".

"Well, balls to you then", thought Bernard, not happy with the idea of Bev fantasising about another man. Mind you, that Rafa she was on about, wasn't he some shit hot Spanish tennis player, the one they called the Torreador? Images of a superbly honed and toned man, swirling a cape and nimbly dodging the deadly charge of a great black bull swam in front of Bernard's eyes.

If he could just get hold of a bull, he and Bev could rewrite the definition of giving the horn", mused Bernard. What would the goat and penguin and turbot make of a bull?

Meanwhile Bev logged back on to mums net and was horrified to discover numerous threads which appeared to be discussing her kinky fuckery and feeblemindedness in real life. Should she really leave the bastard? How best to remove the stains?

Bev wondered what sort of advice she would be given if she were to post "on the other side" netmums would they balk at the kinky fuckery or would they regale her with stories of their own Bernards?

oh and What Briancoxsmellysox said

As Bernard was off watching wimbledon, Bev decided to give the red room of pain a spring clean. So what products do I need then? She though. Bleech for the silver balls, butt plugs and dildos, multi-surface cleaner for the cross... Wood polish for the canes?

Bev realised that she was going to need a special product to unblock the loo. After all, the master puppeteer kept throwing freshly-plucked tampons down there

Curse you Mumsnet!!!!

I kept telling myself I was above this 50 shades bollocks - now having read this, I am in the process of downloading the first book to my kindle...

Oh the shame...