Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie (26 page)

As we walked through the house toward the back doors, Fatima said, “Master, you granted my heartfelt request, and I thank you. May I do you a favor, to show my gratitude?”

“What kind of favor?”

“Soon you will have many women living in those upstairs bedrooms, and the hallway will be getting lots of traffic. May I buy you a rug to lay on the hallway floor?”

“You’ll have to buy it by yourself,” I said. “I can’t begin to advise you about shopping for a rug.”

She laughed. “Remember where I’m from, Master. I’ve been out of the loop, but the Green Tribe knows a little about rugs.”

****

While I was fucking naked Almira, her twin sister Elvira (who was still dressed as a French Maid) glared daggers at me.

“Mmm,” Almira said at one point. “I’ve been arrested because I’m bad to the bone. But right now, the bone is being so
good
to
me
.”

“Mother is right,” Elvira said. “Sex with men is demeaning.”

“Kiss my ass, Elvie,” I said.

“That’s a good idea,” Almira said. “If you keep trash-talking Marvin, my dear sister, I’ll make you kneel down and tongue Marvin’s asshole.”

I couldn’t see Elvira’s expression, but she got quiet then. Seconds later, she picked up her serving tray and stomped off toward the poolside kitchen.

****

As soon as I got Virgilia on the mattress and naked, she asked me, “Is it okay if I suck you now, or is fellatio still off-limits?”

I replied, “It’s not off-limits, but I want to get
you
in the mood.”

Virgilia replied, “Trust me, sucking your cock till it’s hard
gets
me in the mood.”

“Very well,” I said. “Virgilia, suck my dick.”

****

Pictured (left to right): Kristin, Elena, Sherry, Felicia, Virgilia, Fatima, Almira, Olivia (purple one-piece), Bellina (bare-breasted), Erin (neon-orange hair), Bridget (redhead in pool), Elvira (serving drinks), Christi Ellen (fist up, in lounger), and Anna Kay (wet-haired brunette).

As Tiffani was getting dressed, Fatima walked up, clipboard in hand. She told me, “Congratulations, you’ve now fucked every name on the list.”

I replied, “Then you missed one. I have one more woman to fuck.”

Fatima said, “Who?” Then she looked around. “Elvira. I didn’t write her name down, because I wasn’t sure she’d cooperate.”

“Here, hand me the clipboard,” I said. After Fatima did so, I tossed the clipboard onto the grass. I said, “Elvira wasn’t the woman I meant. Fatima, pull your t-shirt over your head. Slowly.”

“Yes, Master.”

Seconds later, I said, “I like what I see, Fatima. Your breasts are so big. Now unsnap your green, lacy bra and remove it. Slowly.”

“Yes, Master.”

Seconds later, I said, “You have nice, large tits, Fatima. Well-shaped, and they don’t sag at all. I’m enjoying looking at them.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Roll your nipples between your fingers, Fatima....Oh, that looks hot. Does it feel good?”

“Oh yes, Master.
Very
good.”

“Now takes your shoes off....Your nail polish is a different shade of green. Avocado? That
is
new since this morning, right?”

“Yes, Master.”

“That shade goes good with your skin color. Did you put it on for me?”

“Yes, Master, I hoped to please you. But um, I also did it because I knew that women here would be judging me.”

I laughed. “Thank you for being honest. Now Fatima, unsnap those shorts and
slowly
pull them down till they touch the ground.”

“Yes, Master,” Fatima said. Her cheeks were getting flushed.

“Now kick your shorts away.” Seconds later, I said, “Now you’re wearing only green panties, Fatima. This ‘obedience striptease’ that you’re doing, it really excites me. See my boner pushing out the front of my shorts?”

“Oh yes, Master. May I stroke it?”

“Only if you kiss me while you’re stroking my shorts.”

A minute later, I broke the kiss. I said, “Mmm, your hand rubbing my cock feels wonderful. I want you, Fatima.”

“I want you too, Master.”

I stood up. “Pull my shorts and briefs down, Fatima. Then you have discretion after that.”

Fatima, you recall, was wearing only green panties and one green hair-cincher that secured her waist-length black ponytail. Kneeling in front of me as she was, she looked sexy as hell.

Fatima unsnapped my shorts and pulled them down to the ground, as one hand “accidentally” rubbed against my white-cotton-covered hard-on. I stepped out of my shorts.

Fatima got both hands inside the elastic band of my briefs, and pulled them down. No sooner had I stepped out of my briefs but Fatima’s mouth attacked my cock.

I stood there in my back yard, naked, getting an enthusiastic blowjob from my green-pantied genie. Meanwhile, all twenty of my harem girls were watching me get pleasured. Sure, they were doing other things: serving food, eating food, drinking, talking, and listening. But except for Elvira (who was serving drinks with her back to me), every woman at the party was facing me (whatever else she might be doing), and she was smiling at me.

When I was feeling very nice, I said, “Fatima, stop. Get your butt and your head on the mattress.”

“Yes, Master. I await your next command with eagerness.”

Seconds later, she was lying on the mattress, and I was between her legs. “I’m pulling your panties off, Fatima. Tell me, do you want sex now?”

“Yes, Master, very much so.”

Seconds later, she was naked, and I had moved up to look in her eyes. “Tell me what your pussy ... wishes,” I said.

“Oh Master, my pussy wishes you’d give it attention. It needs attention and pleasuring, Master.”

“One wish made, one wish granted, Fatima,” I said. Then I moved down her body and started tonguing her pussy.

When I had Fatima hot and bothered, I rolled off her and onto my back. “Get on top. Your choice, Fatima: facing my head, or facing my feet.”

“Master, I want to see your face while I fuck you.”

“Good, I was hoping you’d say that—because I want to feel your big tits.” But before I let Fatima mount me, I tore open another foil condom packet. “First, this word from our sponsor,” I said, as I rolled the latex baby-stopper on my dick.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking, Reader: With Fatima, I needn’t worry about either VD or pregnancy. But after fucking twenty women with a condom, someone might get curious if I suddenly skipped a step. But then I got an idea—

I gestured for Fatima to lean forward, so that I could murmur in her ear (which she was able to do; Fatima is very flexible). I said, “Please make the condom disappear until I’m about to spurt.”

Fatima made the magic-making gestures. Then she smiled at me, saying, “Oh, yesss! Very clever, Master!”

Fatima had shape-shifted herself a very muscular body—now this proved useful, because female-superior requires a lot from the woman’s thigh and abdominal muscles. But Fatima was up to the challenge—and her wet pussy made sure that I was “up” to the challenge myself.

I knew she was having fun when she started babbling in a language that wasn’t English.

It was my twenty-second fuck of the day. Somehow (magically?) I was not sore or chafed, but I was no longer hair-trigger. Still, Fatima had a tight pussy, and she was riding me hard. No more than ten minutes after we started, I was saying, “I’m gonna come!”

(Which made the magically-disappeared condom reappear on my dick. Oh well.)

Suddenly, Fatima’s hips started moving at supersonic speed, as she arched her back and threw her head back. She screamed something foreign.

A second later, I spurted into my condom. And this orgasm felt every bit as good as my first climax of the day (with Janice) had felt.

When I was no longer feeling stars dancing in my brain, and Fatima had slumped down on top of me, I became aware of something—

Twenty harem girls were applauding Fatima and me.

In the back yard minutes later, Anna Kay walked up to me smiling. She said, “So the deal is, Virgilia, or Felicia, or any other of your blowjob nymphos—none of them can just walk up and slurp your dick today till I do it first,
right?
”

I answered, “Or I order someone to blow me, or I tell someone I will fuck her. So that makes
you
special.”

Hearing me say that, Anna Kay had an orgasm. (That happens whenever I do something to treat her special.) Anyway, I waited till she was calm again, then I said, “The kicker is, you and all the girls after you, you may only suck me for ten minutes. And you’re not allowed to bring me off till I tell you to.”

Anna Kay looked at me with a raised eyebrow. She asked, “I can’t make you cum, but it’s okay to get you so close that your eyes cross,
right?
”

“Right. I permit you to drive me batshit for ten minutes.”

Without asking my permission, Anna Kay stuck her hand in the pocket of my shorts, and pulled out my cel phone. She pointed to the changing current-time display, saying, “Here’s a challenge for you. You just stand right here, or you sit in that chair there, and you keep telling me the current time.”

I walked over to a white plastic lawn chair. Then Anna Kay yanked down my shorts and briefs. With my shorts and briefs around my ankles, I sat down.

I called out, “It’s 4:26 and thirty seconds...”

Anna Kay jammed her lips onto my cock. Slurp, slurp.

“It’s 4:26 and—and it’s, uh, forty—”

Anna Kay picked up the pace.

“Whoa. No, it’s fif—it’s fi-fifty ... seconds.”

Sl-sl-sl-slurp, lick, slurp.

I had to fight the urge to stare at the sky. “It’s 4:27 exac—oh, wow.”

****

“...Alaskans, the time now is 12:27. We close now with interesting news from the Lower Forty-Nine...”

Senator Paula Sarin was meeting with her staff in the basement of her house in Lawissa. Working out of her house (when she could manage it) was great public relations with Alaska voters—not to mention the Form 1040 advantages of using part of your house for business. The TV was droning while Paula was holding her meeting.

The news announcer continued: “Marvin Harper has to be the luckiest man in the U.S.A. Not only is he a true hero—here you see him rescuing children from a burning house—not only is he young, tall, and muscular, but he has just inherited billions of dollars from his uncle.”

Bert Fowler, Paula’s chief of staff, pointed to the TV. “Senator, did you hear that? Maybe you can hit this kid up for campaign contributions.”

Paula replied, “He’s dressed up in some kind of patriotic costume, right? I’m sure he cares about a better tomorrow for America.”

But while Paula was talking high-sounding jibber-jabber, she was thinking,
Just let me get close enough to touch him, and give me a few seconds alone with him to make Suggestions, and my presidential campaign will be well set.

Then in an instant, Paula’s whole thinking changed.

The Anchorage TV station had borrowed video footage from Marvin’s hometown, replacing the original audio track. The Anchorage announcer was talking about how Alaska ladies maybe could lure this rich hunk into visiting their state, but what the TV was showing was a young woman talking.

Paula startled, because the young woman had black hair, brown skin, and glowing green eyes. And she kept company with a kid who was supposedly showered with blessings?
Yeah, right,
Paula thought.

Paula’s hand snapped out, pointing to the TV. “Who is
she
?”

Bert glanced at the TV. “The kid’s press flack, I suppose.” His expression and tone of voice said
She’s a nobody. Why are you asking about her?

Paula commanded, “I want every bit of video you can find on this kid, Marvin Whatzisname. And make sure you include every video you find of this green-eyed spokeswoman. Also, I want Marvin’s street address. Bert, you work the phones, and Sheila, you hit the internet. I want the address and video
now
, people! Chop-chop!”

Paula had no doubt that she’d have both her ordered video, and Marvin’s home address, very soon. Bert was a very capable chief of staff, and Sheila? Sheila was young, energetic, computer-savvy and—thanks to a well-worded Suggestion—eager to do
anything
that Paula asked of her.

A little after three in the afternoon, Alaska time, Bert handed to Paula a slip of paper on which was written Marvin Harper’s street address and a phone number. Meanwhile, Sheila was holding out a USB stick.

“This his cel phone?” Paula demanded.

Bert shrugged. “It’s his house phone. If he’s got a cel, I can’t find out the number.”

“Then it’s back to work, you two. Get me the number for his cel, or prove to me that he hasn’t got one. Sheila, I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

Sheila stood straight. “You know I always give you my best, Senator!”

Paula had to work her face carefully, not to show a sexy smile. Young Sheila had become a sheer delight at cunnilingus.

Two hours later, Sheila looked ready to cry, and Bert looked annoyed at the world. “Sorry, Senator,” Bert said. “I talked to Marvin’s parents, asked for his cel number, gave them the old ‘You’re helping your country’ routine, but no cigar. And everyone else tells me, ‘Rules are rules.’ ”

Paula looked at the young blonde. “Sheila?”

“I’m so sorry I’ve let you down!” the girl wailed.

Paula was pissed, but couldn’t blame anyone but herself. She hadn’t done much campaigning in Marvin’s part of the USA, so she didn’t have a cadre of Suggestioned thralls whom she could order around. And considering how much bribe money that the phone companies handed to politicians, they could afford to laugh at any bluster of Paula’s. Bottom line: Marvin’s cel-phone number was a lost cause.

Paula put on a fake smile. “People, it’s Sunday, it’s after five, and you tried your best. Go back to the motel and have a good
piece of a
weekend. Sheila, call your boyfriend and make him glad to hear from you.”

Sheila stood there, hands at her side, with head bowed but eyes looking at Paula—Sheila’s “I’m available to be used” pose, in other words. Sheila said, “Senator, I could stay here a little longer, and—”

Paula smiled. “Thanks, but no. Everyone, back to the motel. That’s an order.”

Two minutes later, Paula was alone in the house except for her husband. Paula walked upstairs and into the master bedroom, where Ted was lying there naked, waiting to service her.

With the slip of paper and the USB stick in her right hand, Paula pasted on another fake smile. “Ted, honey? It’s your lucky day. Get dressed, and go visit Bucky. Shoot some pool, drink some beers, have fun. And if you meet some tourist girls who recognize you as Senator Sarin’s husband—well, sometimes a husband can’t help himself, but a wife loves him anyway.”

Ted looked like he’d won the lottery. Needless to say, he moved fast to get dressed and get gone. He was so moved by Paula’s generosity, he even kissed her on the cheek without a Suggestion.

After Ted drove off, Paula watched the bedside clock for five minutes, just in case Ted forgot something and came back. After the five minutes, Paula put the paper and the USB stick on the master bedroom’s computer desk, then she walked out of the bedroom and upstairs into the attic.

In the attic was a steamer trunk that had belonged to Paula’s great-grandmother. It was filled with 1920s and 1930s clothing for a very tall and very thin woman, and so was of no interest to anyone.

In short, this trunk was the perfect hiding place.

Paula Sarin walked over to the steamer trunk’s front-right corner, and stuck her right hand down inside, as far as it would go.

Seconds later, Paula was standing up straight again, holding a tarnished and dented brass bottle, its glass stopper now pearlescent with age.

Paula couldn’t help but smile. During a long-ago travel through the Lower Forty-Eight that she and Ted had made, she’d bought the brass bottle at an estate sale in Florida. Paula had paid only $2.50 for this ugly old bottle and a NASA drink coaster. And to think, Ted had called it “wasted money”!

Paula carried the brass bottle downstairs, into the master bedroom, and over to the computer. She pulled out the bottle’s stopper, and laid it by the keyboard.

She rubbed the brass bottle.

The brass bottle shook in her hand as if a frantic rat were trapped inside of it. Then pink smoke came out of the top of the bottle—lots and lots of pink smoke.

****

Jerngert sent a quick BDIM saying, “I’m summoned. PLEASE let it be a new master.” Jerngert wasn’t hopeful, though—always before, she had sensed her master’s death while in her bottle, and she’d received no such intuition in the years since she’d last seen Paula Sarin. But Jerngert couldn’t delay her summons any more, and so she smoked herself out of her bottle.

Twenty-six centuries as a bound
djinni
had taught Jerngert how to make her face expressionless in front of a master. So Jerngert showed no distress when she came out of the bottle and saw Paula Sarin holding Jerngert’s brass bottle.

“Good afternoon, Master,” Jerngert said.

“Fix your eyes, dammit!” Master commanded.

“No,” said Jerngert. “That order is for something magical, and King Solomon said—”

“Liar!” cried Master. “Don’t try to deceive me with one of your lies. Your eyes are pink, make them blue!”

“No,” Jerngert said again. “It’s my choice when to obey your magical order, and I
like
my pink eyes—”

“YOU STILL LIE TO ME, AND YOU STILL DEFY ME?” Master yelled. “I’VE HEARD LIES ALL MY LIFE, AND I KNOW WHEN I’M BEING LIED TO.” With that, Master gave a loud, inhuman scream that hurt Jerngert’s ears.

“I obey, Master,” Jerngert said. She gestured, and her pale-pink irises turned pale blue. Jerngert managed not to sigh.

This was typical of Master, Jerngert thought. All the
djinn
of the Pink Tribe thought their pink eyes made them look distinctive—no other person, whether
djinni
or human, had the Pink Tribe’s combination of blond hair, pale skin, and pale-pink irises. But to Master, Jerngert’s eyes made her “a freak,” and Master would not be convinced otherwise. A habitual liar herself (as a memory-reading had revealed), Paula Sarin was certain that any statement that she didn’t like was “a lie.” Master had also deemed as “a lie” Jerngert’s statement that a bound
djinni
didn’t have to obey a master’s commands of a magical nature. Heck with it—for Jerngert, it was easier to say yes to whatever the harpy wanted, than to say no and listen to her tantrums.

Jerngert hoped that whatever Master wanted wouldn’t take long, so that Jerngert could soon return to her bottle. Jerngert was wearing pink- and rose-colored Persian clothing, which wasn’t at all suited for Alaska in May. Not to mention, a
djinni
is more sensitive to cold than a human is.

Master interrupted Jerngert’s musings with an impatient beckoning gesture. “Come here. Watch this. Tell me what you think.”

Master stuck what looked like a black pack of chewing gum, into what had to be a computer. Then Master typed on the keys, and it seemed as though Jerngert was watching a videotape of a television news broadcast.

“He’s very tall,” Jerngert said a few seconds later. “He’s unusually strong,” she said a few seconds after that.

“Keep watching!” Master commanded.

Jerngert obeyed. She began to suspect that the young man was a magic-user. How else to explain those huge muscles of his? The name “Marvin Harper” meant nothing to her.

Then in the videotape came pictures of another man, an old man who had fought in a war in his youth. Then were shown pictures of a palace that the old man had owned, and which now belonged to young Marvin. And then Jerngert saw, as seen through the bars of a wrought-iron gate, a young woman who stood just beyond the bars, and who read from a paper. She looked so much like—

Jerngert gasped.
That’s Fatima!

Now Jerngert remembered that Fatima’s master’s name was ‘Marvin’. What Jerngert remembered easily was that Fatima had written much on BDIM about what a wonderful master she had.

Jerngert’s evil master, Paula Sarin, had video of both Jerngert’s friend Fatima and Fatima’s much-admired master, Marvin Harper. This was not good.

****

Paula Sarin had been watching the genie closely. Paula needn’t have worked so hard. It was obvious that Jernie recognized the green-eyed woman.

Paula said, “You told me once that there are three kinds of genies: blue-skinned genies, your kind of genie, and genies who look like Arabs, except that they have bright-green eyes. Is she one of those genies?”

Jernie tried to wiggle out of answering: “That screen is small, it’s hard to see details—”

Paula wasn’t going to give Jernie the time to cook up a lie. Paula pressed her: “Are you really, truly not sure whether that woman is a genie or not?”

Pink-covered shoulders slumped. “That woman is a
djinni
of the Green Tribe, Master.”

“Do you know her name?” Paula asked.

The genie clearly struggled not to answer. Then she gave Paula a small smile. “Yes, Master, I know her name.”

“Smart-ass. Tell me her name.”

Jernie shivered and shook, and made faces, in her efforts not to obey. Then she said, “The name of that
djinni
is Fatima.”

“So where does Marvin keep Fatima’s bottle?”

“Master, I can’t tell you where Marvin Harper keeps Fatima’s Vessel.”

“Liar, you mean you
won’t
tell me. You’ve cheated me out of two wishes, and now you want to keep on thwarting my happiness.”

“Your second wish was to become President of the United States. By King Solomon’s rules, wishing this meant that I couldn’t grant you this wish or your third wish. But I granted you one wish—be happy with that.”

“I’ll be even happier when Fatima grants me three more wishes. But meanwhile, you are refusing to find Fatima’s bottle for me?”