I don’t know why I’m so fucking excited to talk to Ashley when she was just here a couple of hours ago. But regardless of the fucking reason, I shower, shave, go work out, and get some food at the gym, and by the time I’m sitting down in front of my computer, I have nervous excitement going through me like I’m 16 and in high school all over again.

What the fuck is going on? I’m about to call a phone sex operator. Regardless of whether I had showered or shaved or whatever, she’d be looking to get me off. This is a sure fucking thing. It’s nothing to get excited about. It’s nothing to revolve my day around.

But that’s exactly what I’m fucking doing. You’re probably laughing at me right now. I seem like that fucking 40-year-old virgin if you ever saw the movie where Steve Carrell puts on the candles and shit before putting on the fucking porno so he could jack off. Hell, chances are Dad’s company produced that porno in the first place. And now I wonder how much the old man is turning over in his grave when he sees his only fucking son getting a fucking hard on getting ready to pay money to talk dirty with one of his own phone sex operators.

Jesus fucking Christ. I gotta calm the fuck own.

I turn on the computer at my desk and scan through my emails. There’s nothing major going on in the world of sex today that’s interfering with my trying to divest out of this shit. I pull up the research on the Morozov family of companies that I had asked Gerard to do. That man is worth his fucking weight in gold. Not only did breaking up the company into chunks to sell give us who Luca Giannoni was working for, but it gives me a chance to dig a bit deeper and see just who I’m selling to.

But wait, it’s already noon. And that means Ashley’s waiting for me to call her.

Actually, let me fucking rephrase that. She’s waiting for "King Henry" to call her.

Whatever, don’t look at me right now like that, ok? Until I met her, I used to be a normal, well-adjusted asshole. Sure, I used to fuck women left and right, but I never fucking lied to them. But with her, I’m living a double fucking life.

“Hi this is Misty, who am I talking to?” she purrs into the phone and my heart skips a beat at hearing her voice all over again.

“It’s King Henry, Kitten,” I say with the affected gravelly voice. I’m not using the coat anymore, and despite the computer showing me that emails are arriving; my mind and concentration are completely focused on the line.

“I’ve been waiting for you, sir,” Ashley says with a purr.

“Have you now?” I say to her while my cock stiffens at her submissive tone. “I’m not sure I believe you Kitten.”

“It’s true, I came home just so I could take your call,” she insists.

“What are you wearing, Misty?” I ask, taking charge of the conversation. “Tell me.”

I lean back as Ashley starts to describe what she’s wearing. “I have on a purple lace thong with purple stockings and garters,” she says. “And a light purple matching lace bra.”

I close my eyes, imagining the beautiful Goddess who was with me just a few hours ago and how she’s lounging in sexy lingerie now to talk to me.

A part of my brain tells me this is wrong. This is fucking crazy. That I have plenty of work to do today.

Fuck, I even look toward the computer. There’s an urgent email that just came through from Gerard.

But the reptilian part of my brain tells me that Ashley wasn’t wearing any purple lingerie when she left here this morning. She must have changed. Or she’s making this whole thing up.

“Did you just put it on?” I ask into the phone. “Was that what you were wearing before? Be honest with me, Misty.”

There’s a pause on the line and I know she’s debating how far to go into this conversation. Because I’ve just blurred the edges of fantasy and reality now and if she plays along then she’s walking into fucking wonderland with me.

“I changed into this just for you,” she tells me slowly. “I put it on after I showered once I got home.”

“Did you come from somewhere else?” I ask. Fuck, don’t look at me okay. I don’t know why I’m asking this. I know perfectly well where she was.

There’s another pause.

“Yes,” she says on the phone.

“Yes, what?” I ask harshly.

“Yes, sir,” she corrects herself. Good, she’s listening.

“A man?” I ask with another question almost immediately.

“Yes, sir.”

Fuck. My cock is twitching in my pants for some reason. I glance at the computer at the email from Gerard. It reads simply: URGENT. MOZOROV IS PRESSING HARD FOR COMPLETE BUYOUT.

Whatever. I can’t give it the time it needs right now because my next question to Ashley is just, “Did you fuck him?”

She’s either going to hang up, or she’s going to go along with what I’m saying.

I decide to take it further and tell her, “I’m buying you right now, Misty. That means I own you. That means you do whatever I tell you to do. Tell me you understand.”

Another pause. Has she hung up? Has she put me on mute?

“I understand, sir,” comes her response. Her voice is soft. It’s not so sultry. It’s more real.

“Good,” I say, unbuckling my pants and pushing them down. “Now, tell me the truth. Did you fuck him?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies. “Yes, I fucked him.”

“Did you cum?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” I say, not sure why I’m getting off to this, but I’m unwilling to fucking stop. “Are you touching yourself now?”

Again, she responds without shame. “Yes, sir.”

“I want you to stop, Misty,” I say to her. I hear a whimper on the other end of the line. It sounds of disappointment. But I’m too far gone. My mind is in a haze of lust and it’s not controlling anything I say or do at this point.

“Look south, towards downtown, Misty,” I tell her.

“I am, sir,” she replies. “My apartment faces downtown.”

“Do you see the spires of the city?” I ask. “Imagine the biggest one is my cock. Imagine my giant cock going inside of you. In and out. Fucking you.”

I hear her moan.

“Can I touch myself, sir?” she asks, a bit breathlessly.

Jesus fuck. My cock is rock hard as I say, “No, not yet. Are you staring downtown?”

“Yes, sir. Why am I staring out the window?” she asks.

“Because what you see outside your window represents the highlight of human achievement, Misty,” I say to her. I’m not fucking lying, but I’m not sure why I’m telling her this. “When I was a kid in the city, my Dad would take me every Sunday to the Empire State Building so we could look out on the skyline. He would tell me that as long as I was willing to work hard, those buildings represented the idea that I could do anything.”

“That’s sweet,” Misty says.

Fuck. Her name is Ashley. I can’t forget that. I’m starting to think of her as Misty… as my Kitten. This is fucking dangerous.

“Fuck sweet,” I tell her harshly, scared at how much I’ve given away. “I want you to picture my cock, Kitten.”

“Yes, master,” she says and now I’m just completely hooked. Where the fuck did she get that in her head to call me master? “Is it hard, sir?”

I grunt, my hand working my cock. “It’s veiny, thick, throbbing…” I start but Ashley interrupts me.

“Can I put my mouth on it, master?” she asks. “Can I run my tongue over the tip?”

Fucking Christ.

“Can I run my tongue up and down the shaft, sir?” she asks with a sweeter voice and my body shudders. “Can I spit on it and then smear it over your big, throbbing head?”

I can’t take any more, but she’s not done.

“Can I lick the precum that’s coming out with my tongue? And then can I jerk your cock while you watch me?”

I can’t answer. I’m too far into this fucked up world. I’m past the point of no return.

Can I put my finger on your slit and smear that precum across the head of your cock, master?” she asks me sweetly.

“I’m going to cum,” I manage to get out.

“I still have my bra on because you wanted me to keep it on, do you want to cum on my tits?” Ashley asks. “My big, soft, firm, tits,” she adds for emphasis.

“Urrgh,” I say out loud. Don’t ask me what I was trying to say because I have no fucking idea. My mind is in a state of paralysis as my orgasm rips through me and I shoot out spurt after spurt of thick, viscous cum out of my cock and onto the floor.

I’m panting as electric shocks of pleasure race through my body and by the time I’m done I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep holding onto the phone.

Ashley is waiting on the other end of the line. I can sense a smile on her voice as she speaks to me.

“Can I touch myself, now, King?” she asks.

Fuck me. I’m going fucking crazy for this girl.