Cindersmellya: A Dark Comedy Fairytale Romance

by Alexis Angel

  “Holy… fuck!” I mutter through pursed lips, my brow furrowed in effort. I’m gushing so much cum that it’s splattering her whole body, dripping down from her tits and belly to her legs and pussy and then, finally, trickling onto the floor in thick drops.

  I close my eyes and lean back, my exhausted and trembling body reclining against the couch. I sigh heavily, tender fingers softly grasping my hair, and force my eyelids open. Ashley’s eyes are on me, watching, a twinkle of mischievousness on them.

  I give her a wide devilish fucking grin and, still reeling myself from everything, tell her the first thing that crosses my mind.

  “You are fucking amazing.”

  She says nothing, but something flashes behind her eyes—something that seems confident and yet sad at the same time.

  Ashley

  “Hi this is Misty, who am I speaking with?” I say into the phone as I lean back. I’ve put on white lace stockings with a matching white lace thong and lace bra. I have heels on, and I decide to recline on my sofa.

  The truth is, I need this. I need to get back to de-personalizing the sex—especially after yesterday morning.

  I can still remember the events as they happened.

  “You are fucking amazing,” Arsen said to me as I stared up at him, his cum dripping from my face and body. In that moment, the fog of lust began to slowly clear from my brain and for a moment, I felt…what was it? Familiarity? Love?

  I quickly got up from the floor of his living room and ran to the bathroom. I showered as quickly as I could and put on my clothes to look as presentable as possible.

  “Where are you going?” Arsen asked me when I emerged all prepared for the day.

  “Some of us have to work, you know?” I asked back, rhetorically.

  He snorted and took a step closer to me. I took a step back.

  I can’t understand why.

  “Hi Misty,” the voice on the phone breathes. “My name is Max.”

  “Oh, I’ve been waiting for someone like Max with a sexy name all day long,” I coo into the phone. “What are you wearing?”

  As Max goes on and on about what he’s wearing, I think back to how I left Arsen’s apartment yesterday morning.

  “I thought we could get brunch,” Arsen said to me as I made for the door.

  I kept walking.

  “Is everything okay?” Arsen asked again. This brought me up short. I turned to him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you owned the strip club?” I asked him.

  He stared at me, putting on a robe so he wasn’t completely naked and walked over.

  “Does it bother you?” he asked.

  I think it did bother me. Even now, I think it still bothers me.

  “What bothers me the most though is what Yasmine said,” I replied back to him. “She said that the owner of the strip club also owned the phone sex company that I work at. Called…”

  He didn’t let me finish. “Simulated Pleasures, LLC,” he finished my sentence for me. “And yes, I own that as well.”

  At first I didn't know what to say. But I know that Arsen was watching me.

  “That means you know what I do for a living,” I stated. It wasn’t so much a question as more a statement to myself. “You know what I’ve had to do in the past. How I’ve had to dance.”

  Arsen nodded. “I don’t care about any of that,” he said. “I only inherited this company from my father…”

  But I didn't let him finish. “I don’t think this is appropriate, Arsen,” I said. “You own the company I work for, and I don’t think we’d ever be equals in any sort of relationship.”

  Arsen snorted and looked at me. “Are you fucking serious?” he asked as he got up. “You didn’t let me cum just now till you were ready for me!”

  My defenses must have gone up because I gave him a fake plastic smile and looked at him. “Goodbye Arsen,” I said. “Take care.”

  And with that I walked out of his apartment toward the elevator. I stayed still all through the elevator and kept my composure. It was only when I get into the cab that I looked into my lap and tried to make as little noise as possible as I began to cry.

  “Hello?” the voice of Max jars me awake from my reverie.

  I start and look at the meter on my computer. I recently installed the software that the office gave me. It shows how long the call has been going and the estimated charges as well as the royalties I should expect.

  “Are you still there?” Max asks, a bit unsure as to why a phone sex operator would put him on hold.

  The thought makes me smile and I let my smile color my voice. “I’m still here, baby,” I whisper into the phone. “Just hearing you talk started getting me so hot and bothered I needed a place to lay down.”

  “Oh yeah?” I can see the ear-to-ear grin on Max’s face as he asks this. “What are you wearing?”

  “Oh baby, I put on a special lace white thong on for you just now, and a matching bra,” I reply back. “Do you like that?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Max says into the phone. “I like that a lot.”

  “How do you want me?” I ask him. I’ve been learning. Sometimes I lead the conversation. Sometimes when I’m feeling generous, I let the client lead. I’ve been trying to get the clients talking more instead of just getting them off as quickly as possible. I think it does two things. It keeps them on the phone longer. But more importantly, having them talk about themselves starts making them regulars. They end up investing in me emotionally.

  “I want to bend you over and slide your panties off,” Max whispers into the phone.

  “Ooh, yeah, baby, I like that,” I say into the phone. I can’t help it, but I picture bending over the table in my kitchen with Arsen behind me.

  “I want to rub my hands up and down your body, and take off your bra so I can lick those hard nipples of yours,” Max says slowly.

  “Oh, they’re so hard right now,” I say into the phone. And guess what? They are. Because I’m thinking of this happening to me. With Arsen, no less. I can’t help it. I can’t get his body out of my head. But more than his body. He’s got the heart of a saint. I know he says he’s not a good man. But he’s been nothing but gracious to me. Kind, warm, protective … loving.

  I want to use one hand to squeeze those nipples as I suck them,” Max says into the phone. “I want to use the other hand to smack that ass.”

  I close my eyes and picture Arsen squeezing my tits. Of Arsen slapping my ass cheek.

  “Sounds like you like it, baby,” Max says. I didn’t realize it but I had given an involuntarily moan into the phone.

  “I want to slap that ass,” Max says again. He’s breathing erratically. I can tell he’s stroking himself. “Hard.”

  “Ohhh, baby,” I moan. He’s starting to have an effect on me. I bring my free hand down and begin to gently rub my clit over my panties.

  “I want to lower my face and use my tongue to lick around your folds,” Max says.

  Arsen’s face as he licked my pussy goes through my head. As he scooped out cum with his tongue before he fed it to me.

  “Ohhhh,” I groan as arcs of pleasure start to permeate through my body. Max continues, obviously excited by the fact that his words seem to be having a real and noticeable affect on me.

  “I want to pull out my cock and…” Max continues but somehow I stop paying attention to what he says.

  All I can see, and trust me, it seems so real, is Arsen stroking his thick, 12-inch cock in front of me. I’m on my knees. Then all of a sudden I’m grinding my ass against that hard cock of his. Like yesterday morning. Feeling it pulse. Thick and hard.

  I can feel Arsen’s hands on my body as I begin to stimulate my clit. I can feel his thick and powerful tongue flick my clit. I can feel him use his tongue to press against my clit, playing with it. Teasing it. Massaging it. Biting it. Licking it. Sucking it.

  Oh my God. What am I doing? Is Max still on the line?

  I don’t care. But I don’t dare talk. All
I do is moan. All I do is breathe and mewl.

  In my head, Arsen is my Angel of Sin. I run my tongue between the creases of his abs. He runs his tongue over my asshole.

  Shudders of pleasure go through me. My body seizes up. I let loose a growl. And then a lewd moan escapes my lips as I forget all about what's polite. A seizure of ecstasy travels through my body and I’m left shaking for a moment.

  I’m light-headed when I open my eyes. I’m panting. Sweating. Hot.

  “That was so fucking hot!” Max says into the phone.

  I want to reply, but I can’t. I just lay there, my panties damp and my body satisfied.

  “I’m calling you back every day!” Max says. He says something more but I honestly am having trouble paying attention. It’s the most I can do to tell him I’ll be waiting and then he hangs up.

  I look at the computer. He was on the line for 15 minutes. That’s at least $54. With $26 going to me. Not a bad gig for 15 minutes of work.

  I could get used to this.

  And then an email pops up on my phone.

  “Congratulations on a solid 5-star rating from all clients over the last 24 hours!” the email reads. It goes on to congratulate me on my repeat clients and my rating.

  I read it and realized that I just made Arsen half the money that I’m getting. Maybe it goes to other people, but it’s based on a company he started and still owns.

  The thought chills me. With so much sex at this man’s disposal, why is he interested in me? And how long will it even last? With those looks and body of his, I’m surprised if he ever speaks to me again. It’s already been over 24 hours and I haven’t heard from him at all.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m not prude or anything. I’ve had a pretty dirty past and I’m very, very sexual as you can tell.

  But Arsen is a line that’s in a completely different league. And right now, this job and the money it affords me needs to take priority. The only way I can do that is by keeping Arsen Hawke at arm’s length.

  I hope to myself that his gorgeous body will start to fade from memory over time.

  But the part of my brain that uses logic tells me that I’m already in too deep. There’s nothing I can do now, it tells me.

  Great. Thanks for nothing, brain!

  Arsen

  "You've made a smart choice," Luca Giannoni says, clapping his meaty hand on my shoulder. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to take my calls." His hand could belong to a Sasquatch. I swear it's hairy enough, and there's no doubt that this guy is an animal. I feel the weight of his hand on my body and wonder why he thinks he needs to be so passive aggressive.

  "It's been a busy few weeks," I say, and shrug off the comment. But honestly, all I can think about is how I haven't had sex with Ashley in over a week.

  "Sure it has, but listen, don't ever mistake my kindness for weakness. Mr. Morozov doesn't take well to being ignored."

  I sense the thinly veiled threat in his voice and I hand him the signed document, slamming the pen down on the desk. I need to get out of this office before he really pisses me off and I do something I shouldn't. "Well, none of that matters anymore. Here's the paperwork. The ownership transfer of these clubs is now in the hands of Mr. Morozov."

  With one hand rolled into a tight fist in the pocket of my suit, I turn around and give him a wave with my other free hand. There's a fake smile plastered across my face, and I leave the room before Luca can respond. I walk outside, and hail a cab. The sun is so bright that I take a moment to stop and find my sunglasses. The cab pulls up and as I open the car door and slide into the back seat, I think about the transaction that just transpired.

  Here I am, a fucking Harvard MBA graduate, and I'm making deals with the Russian mob. What the hell am I doing with my life? And as soon as I ask myself that question, Ashley pops into my mind. Fuck she's beautiful… maybe even perfect. I've seen a lot of smoking hot women in my lifetime, but she tops them all. Fucking her was unbelievable… it's been painful that it's been over a week. I pull out my phone and decide to send her a text. I hesitate for a moment, staring at the chat screen, and thinking about what exactly to say. Fuck it; I'm definitely overthinking this. Why am I acting like such an idiot? I text, "Let's meet up."

  Before I can even slip the phone back into my pocket, she responds, "I don't think that's a good idea."

  What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I text back, "Why not?"

  I wait for a few minutes, but she doesn't respond. I give it another couple of minutes, and still nothing. This is driving me crazy. If she doesn't want to reply to my texts, I'll reach her another way—through her direct phone sex line. I'm not one to give up—I always get what I want.

  I dial her line and wait. The phone rings, and then I hear her. She picks up.

  "Hi, this is Misty. Who am I speaking with?"

  The first thing I notice is that her voice sounds different—smooth and sultry, and I swear my cock is already twitching. She's a good actress, that's for sure. But she can't find out it's me on the other end of the line, so I lower my voice and muffle it with the fabric of my suit.

  "King Henry."

  "Oh, I've never spoken to a king before," she purrs.

  "Good, because I'm the only king that matters. You belong to me, don't you?"

  "Mm hmm," she whispers.

  "Tell me that you belong to me, Kitten," I demand.

  "I do. You're my king and I belong to you," she coos, maintaining a smooth, even voice.

  "Good, Kitten. Now I want you to tell me what you'd do to my cock if I was with you right now."

  "I'd do so many thing. First, I'd—"

  I cut her off. "You mean, King Henry. Say my name when you talk to me."

  She pauses for a moment, and I hear her breathing deepen. "Yes, King Henry. I'd worship your cock. I'd slowly unbutton your pants and drop them to your feet. I'd wrap my arms around your big, strong body and pull you tight against my own—my breasts and my hard nipples would be pressed under the weight of your manhood. My nipples are hard just thinking about you. My lips would then touch yours, and I would nibble on you with a hunger you've never felt before."

  "And what kind of a hunger is that, Kitten?" I ask.

  "I'd—"

  "Stop, and address me as your king before you continue. If you mess that up again, you'll have to spank yourself."

  "Yes, King Henry. I'd bite you in a trail of hunger, starting on your lips, and then moving down until I reach the ridges of your stomach. I'd slide my hands over your thighs and between your legs… moving slowly until I've reached your large, hard cock. Oh, I'm so wet right now just thinking about you."

  "Stop touching your pussy. I can see you doing that because I can hear it in your voice. You can't touch your pussy until I command you to. Do you understand that?"

  "Yes."

  "Yes, what, Kitten?"

  "Yes, King Henry."

  "That's better. Now spank yourself for not addressing me properly."

  "Yes, King Henry," she says, and then I hear a loud slap. I can tell she's naked. It's the sound of skin on skin. She's slapped herself so hard that her ass is definitely red.

  "Now show me how you'd worship my cock."

  "Yes, King Henry. I'd get down on my knees and wrap my hand around your cock and glide it into my mouth and deep into my throat. I'd take your entire shaft down my throat, until I couldn't anymore."

  Now she's got me hooked, and I make sure the driver isn't watching as I slip my hands down my pants, stroking my cock, and I continue. "I want you down on all fours," I command her.

  "Yes, King Henry."

  "Are you down on all fours right now?" I ask, just to be certain.

  "Yes, King Henry. I'm down on all fours," she replies at just above a whisper. I can barely hear her.

  "Good job Kitten. Now finger your pussy and make sure you're ready for me."

  "Oh, god I'm ready for you King Henry. My pussy is throbbing for you—fuck it's so wet."

  “Do you h
ave any toys you use to play with yourself?” I ask.

  There’s a pause. “Yes, King Henry,” she replies.

  “Good,” I say. “Go get it.”

  There’s a rustling and I can hear the phone being put down. She’s obedient. That’s what being horny does to her.

  A minute later, she’s back.

  “I have it, King Henry,” she says.

  “Good, describe it, Kitten,” I tell her.

  She gasps. “It’s a footlong dildo, its black, and it’s ribbed, King Henry,” she says to me.

  “Close your eyes because that’s now my cock in your hands, Kitten,” I tell her and I can just see her laying down with the sex toy.

  “Yes, King,” Ashley says.

  "Good, now I want you to glide my cock into you. Grab it like it's the last cock on earth."

  "Oh god, you're cock is so big King Henry… I'm—I'm gliding it deep, really deep in—inside of me, and I can barely—"

  But before she can finish her sentence, I can hear every muscle in her body spasm and I know she's coming. I stroke my cock faster and faster, and then with my eyes clenched shut, ropes of cum erupt from cock. I don't give a shit about anything around me—the driver, or otherwise, and I continue to come. When I finally open my eyes, I realize it's all over my suit pants. I don't wait for Ashley to say another word, and I hang up our call.

  I can hardly believe that just happened. I take off my suit jacket and hold it in front of me. That's all I need is for the doorman at One57 to catch a glance at the stain on my pants. He's never say anything, but still. Just then, the cab pulls up to my apartment. I pay the fare, and quickly get out of the car, and then I feel it. My phone is vibrating in my pants pocket with an incoming text message. I quickly take it out and read it. It's from Ashley, "OK, maybe you're right. Let's meet up later."

  I can't help but smile at the small victory. See, I told you. I don't take no for an answer; I always get what I want.

  Ashley