The Colors of Ash-Chapter Three

Ash

My cell phone vibrates across my desk. I glance at my watch. Too early to be the West coast. Picking it up, I see Sasha’s name displayed. Sasha, Victor’s submissive. Could they be having problems? And if so, she knows the rules. It stays between her and her master.

“Sasha, I hope everything is okay.”

“Good morning, Ash.”

There’s something in her voice. I’m not sure if I like it. “What is it, Sasha?”

“Ash, I know it’s been a while…since…”

Cammy. Is she calling about Cammy? My last submissive. “Look, Sasha. That is between me and Cammy…”

“No, I’m not calling about Cammy. I haven’t even heard from her.”

She knows the reason I ended the contract early with Cammy. Every submissive knows a relationship and a contracted agreement are not the same. Cammy became confused. She crossed that line, wanting more from me than what I allowed. Relationships are messy. Contracts are straightforward. They are not to be muddled with relationships, and most of all, love. The only love in my heart is power and control. Not dates, sleepovers or promises. I do buy my submissive gifts. But I insist, they do not buy anything for me. Their submission is my gift. I have all I need.

However, ever since Cammy, I haven’t taken on a new submissive. It’s been six months. Six months without sex. For my own sake, I needed to take a break, a step back and look into those dark corners of my mind—see where I might have misled a submissive. There can’t be any mistakes.

“Then I hope it’s not about Victor. You know the rules, Sasha.”

“No. I have…a girl.”

“Girl? You make her sound like a child.”

“She’s almost nineteen but needs to finish high school. She’s one of my foster girls and she’s aged out of the system. Her only options are a shelter or group home. I don’t think those are a good fit for her.”

“And you think I am? Sasha, what are we talking about here? Taking on an unqualified sub? Does she even know the lifestyle?”

“I have discussed it with her.”

“And why hasn’t she finished school, if she’s almost nineteen? You know I like challenges and enjoy the defiance of the game. But I’m not putting up with a girl who probably comes with baggage and issues.”

Then my cock twitches just thinking of all the Daddy issues this girl might have. Bending her over and…

“It’s out of the question, Sasha. I’m not sure I’m even ready to jump back into the lifestyle. I need to figure some things out myself.”

“Ash, don’t let what happened with Cammy make you leave the club. You’re an amazing Dom. We need you. Victor needs your mentoring.”

Maybe Victor needs to mentor me.

I stand and look out the window overlooking the city. Ten stories up, my office is made completely of glass. Up here, I feel powerful. But down there, I must prove my power. Fight the daily grind of Wall Street, and then walk away like nothing affects me. In truth, everything affects me. That’s why I must keep my perception very singular. I can’t afford to lose at anything. I’m a bastard and I know this.

The line’s been silent, and I know she’s waiting patiently for my response. To give a little. She should know better. I have half a mind to call Victor and have him punish her.

“Ash, she hasn’t even agreed, yet. And maybe she won’t. I just want to make every option available to her. She’s precious clay. Someone you can mold into your desires.”

“Is she a virgin? Because I don’t do virgins.”

“I know she’s not. She’s only a virgin to the lifestyle. Maybe you two could help each other. She’s not looking for a relationship. She’s young and will want to go on and explore life. Not settle down. She needs to know her worth. And from this point, life has only thrown her curve balls. She has a tough exterior. But inside, I think she lacks self-confidence.”

The phone on my desk buzzes. That means my secretary is letting me know my client is waiting. “Sasha, email me her information—only if she agrees. But I’m not promising anything. You understand?”

“Yes, Master Ash,” she says, her voice cooing. She’s getting her hopes up. I’ll need to call Victor and set some sort of punishment for her.

“Goodbye, Sasha,” I say and end the call, dropping my phone down into the pocket of my suit. I then pick up my desk phone and buzz my secretary. “Taylor?”

“Mr. Sinclair? Mr. Moore is here.”

“Send him in,” I tell her and return the phone to its cradle.

A knock at my door, and I take a seat back behind my desk. Mr. Moore steps in and I offer him a seat.

“How was that Yankees game?” he asks, shaking my hand. Mr. Moore loves to shower me with noncompliant gifts.

“It was a good game. Thanks for the tickets.” His self-assured smile tells me he thinks we are buds. He has to know I could buy the Yankees if I wanted. But I’ll take his gifts and pretend I am grateful.

He begins to talk stocks, trying to grab some inside information. I smile but stay silent. I’m not about to lose my spot as one of Wall Street’s top fund managers to this clown. So, I turn on my computer and pretend to look over the market. Act as if I’m looking at the highs and lows for the day.

“Well, the DOW is down 2.23%.” Of course, anyone can see that information. But it makes him feel like I’m sharing something sacred with him. “The S&P is down 500.”

“What the hell is going on?” He suddenly strikes out.

“Stockholders always worry during a crisis. Pandemics hold a lot of control,” I tell him, and then switch to my emails. I see Sasha has emailed me something. There are a few attachments as well. Now, I’m dying to see if she’s sent a picture of this girl with daddy issues.

My finger hovers over the mouse, itching to open it. I let my eyes move back and forth from Mr. Moore to my screen. He continues his tirade, as I pretend to be listening, and open Sasha’s email.

Ash,

I hope after reading her information, you will consider training her. Her name is Cinder McIntire, and she’s been in foster care since the age of seven. Her biological mother never registered for school, putting her back a few years. She is bright though and will be graduating in six months. She will be nineteen in a few weeks. Attached is her picture.

Thanks again,

Sasha

Mr. Moore is still babbling on about something, so I click on the attachment to get a look at this girl.

Fuck me. This girl is stunning. She stares at me with a look of disdain, mixed with sultry seduction. She has a chip on her shoulder. Those eyes. How can someone be so sexy with a pissed-off look? My mind grows wild, thinking of all the training and dominating I could give this girl. My cock is twitching just thinking about it. I haven’t heard a word Mr. Moore is saying. I’m consumed with the vision of that mouth wrapped around my cock. Those eyes looking at me with that sultry pissed off look, forced to suck me off.

“That’s it, Cinder. Suck that cock until you learn to obey me. Next, I’m going to fuck your ass. Yes! Deeper. Take all of it.” She gags, and I grab the back of her head, shoving my cock deeper down her throat.

“How long do you think it will be down?”

Until she obeys.

I shake away my perverted thoughts. “Mr. Moore, if I had the answer to that, I’d be more than just a millionaire. Just like everyone else, you can choose to sell, or ride it out.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I’d say, ride it out. What do I always say? When everyone’s brave, be afraid. When they’re afraid, be brave.” Something my old man used to always say. “It looks to me like everyone is afraid.”

“So, I should stay brave and not sell.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” I hope this satisfies him. I need to get myself off soon before I burst. “That’s it, Cinder. Milk my cock. Swallow every last drop.”

It’s been too long. But am I ready to take on this young girl as my submissive? Get her ready for school, pick out her panties…

“Mr. Moore, I hope that’s all you need from me today. I have a very important meeting I need to get to,” I tell him, my balls aching in my pants.

“I just needed to hear it from you,” he says and starts to stand. I will have to shake his hand from across the desk. I’m too hard to stand up right now.

“Have a good day then,” I say, and outstretch my arm. He shakes it and then finally leaves. Thank God.

I push the remote inside the drawer, locking the door. I wiggle the mouse and bring the screen back to life. Her face covers my entire screen. I lie back in my chair, pull out my cock, and jerk it off to her face.

“Bend over. Take that cock in your tight cunt.” I thrust in my chair, stroking my cock with visions of her pleading for it. Screaming because of it. Calling me Master Daddy. “Ah fuck, I’m so close. Warm streams shoot across the desk. A stream of it runs down the computer screen, down her face. Ah, to come on this girl’s face. What a pleasure that would be. To watch her lick it, rub it on her tits. Her knees bent, on her back, her pussy wet with need. Her ass dying to be trained.

I fall back into my chair, squeezing out the rest of my orgasm. I rub it with slow strokes now, picturing her licking and cleaning me up. My eyes close and I get lost in the fantasy of her.

***

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.