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  • Writer's pictureGina A. Jones

The Colors of Ash-Chapter Twelve


I can’t believe I’m going to do this. Of course, you do, Ash. It’s the only reason you invited her here. True. But after watching her being pleasured at Victor’s Partners Play Party, I can’t get her out of my head…or my hands off my cock.

What is it about her? I’ve never been this taken by any woman…sub. For all purposes, I should be gay. Ever since…

I quickly grab up the panties she wore and hold them up to my face. Deeply inhaling, I take in her musky scent—wet and wild, like a feral animal. She was made for fucking, no doubt about that. She even has that wild cat look about her. Those half-closed green eyes. Those glossy lips. That tongue that gently glides along her bottom lip when she’s in need. And that wet pussy.

I practically stab my hand unbuckling my belt and unzipping my trousers. I can’t get to my cock fast enough. She is all I see in my head. Her ass bent over my desk, her pussy shining with need. I grab my thick shaft and circle the tip with my thumb, smearing the precum leaking from my cock. With my other hand, I press her panties to my face, smelling her, tasting her. I begin to stroke my cock like I’m mad at it. She’s turning me wild with her scent, her face locked in every corner of my mind. My balls tighten and I feel my orgasm is about to explode. I fall to my knees, panting out her name like I can’t live without her. I’m coming so hard, my body contorting with pleasure. I want her. I want her here right now. I feel the hot liquid run down my hands—evidence of my lack of control around her. And she’s not even here. What will I be like when she’s in my control? Because right now, she’s controlling me.

I slump to the floor, breathing hard like an animal in heat with no control of his sexual urges. This is scaring me. I’ve only ever masturbated for reasons. Reasons I have locked away and thrown away the key. But I’m not there now. I’m not being…

My phone buzzes from inside my trousers. I must clean myself up before reaching down in the pocket and seeing who is so disturbing me. My legs are weak when I stand up and walk over to my desk. I pull out a handful of tissues and wipe off my mess. I’m disgusting. Out of control.

Now with my pants back in place, I reach down and pull out my cell phone. My father.

I’m tempted not to answer, due to the timing of his call. I know what’s waiting on the other end. As much as I hate to, I take his call.

“Yes, Father?”

“Ash, how are you, son?”

I don’t know why he asks; I know he doesn’t care. Why my loyalty remains, I’ll never know. “I’m fine, Dad.”

“Good. Just hope that you’ll join us this Saturday for your mother’s celebration.”

And, there it is. I take in a deep breath. “Not in a million years, or even on a bet. I don’t know why you continue to invite me each year. You know the answer. Now, is there anything else you called for?”

“Son, I just wish I knew why you feel this way.”

“No, you don’t. Trust me. It’s over, in the past. Again, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Maybe come spend some time with me. Maybe play a round of golf. Your father’s not getting any younger, son.”

He’s right. But I’m still not ready. “Dad, that goes both ways. Come join me in New York. We have courses here, too.”

“I just might take you up on that. Are you seeing anyone? You shouldn’t spend so many nights alone.”

“Dad, that’s none of your concern. I’m fine. I need to go. Bye.” Ending the call, I drop the phone down onto my desk. The last ten years of my life come crashing through me. The anger begins to build like a fire out of control. Get a grip, Ash. You found a way to deal—to cope. Breathe.

I need to focus, think about…Cinder. Yes, she is what I need to reset my position. Get my anger in control. I need her body to release my demons. It’s the only way—the only way for me to live a normal life. And there is nothing normal about it.

Squeezing her panties in my hand, I’m reminded what I need to do next. Walking over to my desk, I pull out a manila envelope and stuff the panties down inside. I reach for my stationery and pen.


Clear your schedule for this weekend. Do not pack a bag, I will provide all that you need. I will have you back late Sunday night. A car will be there to pick you up on Friday at 6:00 p.m. Wear the panties.


Once the note has been placed inside with the panties, I call for my handler right outside the door.

“Yes, sir.”

“This is to be delivered first thing tomorrow morning to Cinder McIntire, the same address you sent the last package to.”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. Make sure my jet is ready to go this Friday.”

“Yes, sir,” my handler says and leaves the room, packaged panties in tow.

My cock is already hard again just thinking of Cinder naked and tied up in my isolated home in Providence.


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.

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angie jones
Dec 30, 2023
Rated 5 out of 5 stars.

Gina A. Jones
Gina A. Jones
Dec 31, 2023
Replying to

Mmm, me like 🥰


Dec 30, 2023
Rated 5 out of 5 stars.

Whooo-hoooo! Ash is so primal!!

Gina A. Jones
Gina A. Jones
Dec 30, 2023
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shannon Cheripka
Dec 29, 2023
Rated 5 out of 5 stars.

Oh my word!!!

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