The Colors of Ash-Chapter Eleven

After bathing, shaving, and bathing again, I dress in the clothes that were sent to me. I do a double-take in the mirror. Even this dress transforms me. I don’t look like someone who is still in high school.

I try to get out of Sasha who A is. She says there are two master’s names that start with an A, Adam, and Ash. Other than that, it’s all she will tell me. I suppose there’s a rule for discussing it. Either way, I’m excited and nervous as hell. And what’s the blindfold all about?

Looking out the window by the fire escape, I see a black SUV Denali parked down below. This must be my ride to…to whatever.

Grabbing the blindfold, I shove it down into my small clutch purse and head out the door of my bedroom. The butterflies turn to bats in my stomach by the time I open the door to descend the stairs. Carefully, I step down each one, praying I don’t fall in these things. I wore heels with the baby doll gown, but they were in no way this high.

I manage to get to the bottom of the stairs. A man wearing dark sunglasses is standing next to the back passenger door. He nods and opens the door. “Miss McIntire,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say and step forward. Before stepping inside, he stops me.

“Do you have the blindfold?”

“Yes, it’s down in my purse.”

“Remove them please, and hand them over.” He holds out a gloved hand. I unfasten the purse, pull it out, and put it into his black, leather glove. “Turn around,” he says with little charm. I do as I’m told, and he straps the blindfold over my eyes. “Watch your step,” he says, lending me a hand, and helping me down into the seat. Next, I feel him pull the seatbelt across me and click it into place. “Are you comfortable, Miss McIntire?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” The door shuts and a few seconds later, I hear him enter the car. Not another word as the car moves away from the curb and we are now in traffic.

As the car moves along, I pay attention to what direction he is driving, when he turns, and when he stops at traffic lights. But after twenty minutes, and many blocks later, I haven’t a clue as to where we are headed. The car is pretty sound proof, with calming Zen music playing. So, I don’t hear any traffic outside. We could be out of the city for all I know.

Am I really okay with this?

I feel the car slowing down. Are we here? Or just at another traffic light? A sharp turn and my head bumps against the window. We are completely stopped now.

“Leave your blindfold on Miss McIntire. I will be aiding you to Master,” he says, and I hear him get out of the car. My side door opens, and I feel him unlatching the seatbelt. Next, he takes my arm and guides me up and out of the car. “Right this way.” I step forward, and he assures me nothing is in my way, that he has me. He stops. “I’m opening a door. You will walk forward. I will then lead you to an elevator.”

“Okay,” I say, and then wonder if I’m allowed to talk. He doesn’t say anything and then takes me by the arm again.

We’re inside—somewhere. I can’t tell if it’s an office building or a penthouse. But it seems to be quiet.

He stops again. “The elevator doors are open. I want you to step inside.” I do and stand inside, waiting for my next direction. The doors close, and then I feel the elevator moving. I think it’s moving up.

“Hello? Sir, are you here?” I reach out and feel the space around me. He’s not here. I’m alone. What am I to do now?

The elevator comes to a stop and I hear the swish of the doors open. Do I get out here? Are there people watching me?

“Step forward, Cinder,” a voice says. I recognize that voice. It’s his voice. The voice from the person who carried me upstairs last night. Is he…A? “I assure you; you are safe. Walk toward my voice.”

I slowly step from the elevator just as the doors shut. “I said, walk this way.” This time, he sounds more demanding. I take slow steps, feeling with my free hand the space in front of me. The other holding my purse. “You must learn trust, Cinder if you want to be a part of my world,” he quips.

“Yes, sir,” I quietly say.

“I don’t remember asking you to speak.” Pressing my lips, I move closer to the sound of his voice. “That’s it. You’re almost there.” A few more steps and he orders me to stop. “Stay right there, as I take a look at you.” I can smell him close, almost feel the heat from his body. He smells the same as last night—woodsy and sandalwood. My body is already responding to him. Is this Adam or Ash? Either way, I know it’s the man from last night.

“You look stunning in the clothes I bought for you.” I feel like a prey being circled by a panther. I want to say thank you. But I’m waiting for his…permission. I can hear the even measure of his steps as he moves behind me. A hand lifts my hair from my neck, a warm breath tickles my ear. “You’re so young. I would have you know; I don’t make it a habit of training a submissive.”

Okay! So, what does this mean?

“Are you sure, this is what you want,” he says, moving away from my neck. Hell yes, this is what I want. I’m already losing it just with his breath melting down into my ear. It has fast-tracked to my center. I start to open my mouth, then remember—I haven’t been given permission. “Very good, Cinder,” he says. “You are waiting for permission to speak. I permit you.”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper out.

“Don’t call me sir. You have not earned that privilege…yet. A simple yes or no will do.”

I swallow. “Yes.”

He wraps my hair around his fist and gives it a gentle tug. I force my legs not to quiver. “You need to be sure.”

My mouth is dry, and I’m sure he can hear the pounding of my heart, the blood thrashing through my ears. A low chuckle tells me, he senses my fear.

“I’m not interested in why you want to become my submissive. I have my way of finding everything I want to know about you. Your past will be left at the door, once you enter my world, along with your soul, I will consume every part of your being. You need to consider this…Cinder.

The way he says my name with hesitation, makes me feel…different, unique. Just the fact that he says my name. I’m so used to being a nobody.

“Cinder, I want you to take five steps. Now.” I jump and count out five steps. “Drop your purse, and lay your hands on the desk that is in front of you.” Dropping the purse, I bend over and place my hands on the desk. “Very good.” I wait. What happens from here? Is he going to…spank me?

I hear his shoes step closer. “Spread your legs apart.” I do. Then, I feel his hand move up the inside of my leg. His fingers feather across the seam of my panties—right next to my center. I’m already wet. Then, just like that, they are gone. “I want you to remove your panties, and then hold them between your teeth.” I hesitate. Which isn’t good because he then barks. “Did you hear me? Or should I send you back where you came from this instant?”

I scramble in the dark through the blindfold, and pull down the thong panties, careful not to trip when pulling them over the high heel shoes. I put the panties in my mouth and bite down, returning to the bent-over position of the desk.

“Very nicely done.” He wraps my hair around his fist again and gently tugs. His other hand reaches up between my legs. I feel his fingers lightly smooth over my folds. With no warning, he spanks my…pussy. “This is your responsibility. When I see and feel this cunt, I expect it to be waxed. I don’t like hair. Is this something you will do for me? You have permission to speak.” I nod, not wanting to drop the panties from my mouth. “Good. Though it is your responsibility, I will provide the salon to take care of this matter.”

He pulls up the dress, my bottom is at his disposal. “You have a very nice ass. A trainer will be assigned to you to keep it in shape.” I feel his hand smooth across my flesh. A light moan escapes me. I wait for him to scold me. But he doesn’t. Just a low chuckle. “You liked to be fucked, don’t you? I watched you being pleasured last night. You have a greedy, little cunt. That I can tell. It will need to be dealt with.”

Dealt with? Is that good? Or bad?

Smack!

I jump, not expecting him to spank me. My mouth is watering, and I feel saliva run onto my hands from holding the panties in my mouth. Suddenly, they are yanked from my mouth.

“I am done with you, Cinder. Your escort is here to take you back. If I decide to train you as my sub, the panties will be sent back to you—along with instructions. You may take her away, now.”

“Yes sir,” the voice of the driver says. Has he been here the entire time? “Come with me, Miss McIntire. Do not take the blindfold off until you have reached your home.”

He takes me by the arm and guides me out of the room.

***

The Colors of Ash © 2024 Gina A. Jones rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.