An obsession
Barbara was fascinated by a television program, which harked back to a favourite childhood story, about a genie in a lamp. When she married Donald it became a favourite bedroom fantasy, for her. She ordered a Halloween costume over the internet, and played naughty games with him, when he was in the mood to indulge her.
She dressed up in the naughty outfit every chance she got. It consisted of sheer pantaloons, a g-string, a little open waist jacket over a sheer top, and carpet slippers with pointy toes. A gauze scarf was wrapped around her face, with her large hazel eyes peering above it. The outfit left her looking full of mysterious Eastern promise.
Her smooth skin would be teasingly exposed and hidden, as she moved in the filmy outfit. Her voluptuous hour glass figure was tantalisingly revealed and hidden. Her thighs were glimpsed through the slits of the pantaloons. When the little waist jacket fell open, prominent breasts were revealed in a haze of thin gauze.
With Donald's promotion came business trips away from home. Working harder meant less time together, and when home, he was tired. She tried harder to interest him, cooking his favourite meals and pampering him when home. While he was away she recorded his favourite sports programs.
Over the last year their love life began to wane, with him hardly ever wanting to play her favourite game, or anything else. Recently an old Eastern brass lamp, a birthday present from her father, was rediscovered in the attic. It became a focus for the fantasy. She would dress up, pretending to be a genie, acting as though the lamp were a precious possession.
'Leave that damn lamp alone! You're obsessed with it!' Donald complained.
'Stop complaining! I'm willing to be your genie, and look after you, aren't I?'
'Yes, you do look after me, but I'm fed up with this genie stuff. It's not right! You're twenty-two, not twelve. You should have grown out of them by now. We shouldn't need to play that game all the time. I don't find it sexy, so let's just do without it,' he told her.
She wanted to be his genie, and needed him to play along. Barbara thought he meant he was fed up with her. Forgetting the genie game, would be impossible as it was so strongly ingrained in her way of thinking. He just didn't understand her at all.
They argued some more about mundane things, until he stormed off to the spare bedroom. She lay on the bed feeling hurt and neglected. For the rest of the week they spoke hardly at all. Just enough to carry on the necessary day to day chores of life. Barbara didn't mention anything to do with a genie, or dare wear the genie outfit.
All that week, while he was at the office, she dressed up in the magical outfit, playing out her favourite fantasy. It gave her some comfort to play the little game, though it was becoming even more of an obsession since he had shouted at her.
After completing chores while dressed as a fabled Eastern Genie, she would watch an episode of the show, or read a well thumbed book. When he declared her obsession stupid, she rebelled, to more intensely throw herself into it. Rather than abandon the childish fantasy, she immersed herself further into it.
***
Friday came around quickly, and surprisingly a neighbour called. Without thinking about how she was dressed, the door was opened to him.
'Hi, Jack,' she said.
Fortunately the door wasn't fully open, for the bright sunlight would have shone right through the outfit. With a look of embarrassment upon her face she peered out at him, feeling very vulnerable.
'Hi Barbara,' he started to say something, then caught how she was dressed. On seeing her hiding, he added. 'You just got up? Hope I haven't caught you in your pyjamas.'
The thought of her wearing a brief nightie was enough to interest him, as she had such an attractive figure, the most alluring in the neighbourhood. The young woman was a beautiful, shapely blond. Her long shiny hair was alluring, but it was her large breasts that attracted him. One was leaning out at him from behind the door.
Hell! What was the girl wearing? Her breast was pointing at him, from an almost sheer piece of material.
'No, not really,' she lamely said.
'My telephone number is changing on Monday. I need to give you my new number, do you have a pen and paper?' he asked.
When she left the door ajar he couldn't help push it open. He wanted to see more of this attractive neighbour. Whatever it was she was wearing, it didn't seem to be covering her very well. Not seeing her around, he stepped in.
'Oh!' she exclaimed.
Hurrying from the kitchen she bumped into him. For a moment they just stood staring at each other.
'You trying on an outfit for a party?' he asked, with his eyes roving all over her body.
'Yes, a party,' she lied.
He wrote the number down with a trembling hand.
'Can you read it?' he asked.
It gave him a chance to take a better look at her, while she was distracted.
'I don't suppose I could scrounge a cup of coffee, everything is ready to go. All that packing, its thirsty work,' he laughed, with the nervousness showing.
'I'm in a bit of a hurry, Jack, another time maybe,' she said, a little too harshly.
He wasn't staring but it was obvious he was taking a good look at the outfit. She felt guilty and abashed at showing off her body to a neighbour. He and Donald were friends, so she felt safe enough. It was just that it was so naughty, she felt uncomfortable.
They both ignored the embarrassment by talking about nothing much. She wished he would shut up and go, yet it seemed they were trapped in a never ending conversation.
Her body swayed a little, between herding him toward the door, and not wanting to get too close to him. She didn't want to give him any ideas. Unfortunately he wasn't taking the hint, as each time she moved forward, he stood his ground, so she had to back off.
The last thing she wanted was to be close enough for a goodbye hug. The neighbour was sure to wrap his arms around her, and feel how insubstantial the brief outfit was. She would be almost naked in his arms, and he was a big strong handsome man. Better not tempt him into anything they would regret.
He was older, about forty-five, and a powerful figure, like her father. It was her father who told the bedtime genie stories. It was nostalgia that resurrected the stories, and hooked her into making up fantasies involving a genie. not working, and her husband working away, left her plenty of time to indulge herself.
The hall was too narrow to squeeze past, while dressed so briefly. It felt as though she were flaunting herself to her husband's friend.
Ready to dash past him, to open the door, she stopped absolutely still, with a look of anguish upon her face. She wanted to dive at the hall table, but everything was moving in slow motion. Her racing thoughts watched the disaster unfold, without a chance of redemption, no way to catch up with events. She couldn't move, as though becoming a statue, with both feet melding with the stone tiled floor.
'This goes with the outfit does it?' he asked, absently picking up the old lamp.
He knew what it was and what it meant, as Donald had moaned about it to him. After a few drinks, Jack had offered to help, though he hadn't thought about how or when.
A stifled yell was turned into a cough. He had her precious lamp in his hand, casually swinging it with a finger through a loop of its handle. Barbara wanted to snatch it from his grasp, but was terrified he might drop it.
'Do you want that coffee,' she asked, hoping he would put it down.
In the story and her fantasies, whoever possessed the lamp possessed her, so she had to obey them. It was only a fable and a fancy, though she had concentrated a lot of time and effort into playing out the fantasy. A little shiver ran up her spine.
Why was she doing this? Was she going to make a coffee in abeyance to his wishes, or to distract him from the lamp? Either way, it was not a healthy thing to do. Keep him here any longer than necessary was foolish. Something silly would happen and she would be to blame, because of the way she was dressed.
The damned housecoat wasn't behind the kitchen door where it usually hung, and she didn't want to go into the lounge serving coffee dressed like this. She quickly put on the coffee and arranged two mugs. While the coffee bubbled she could dash upstairs to put something decent on.
She turned from the sink and stood still in astonishment, blinking a pair of large blue eyes at him. He'd followed her into the kitchen! He watched her bending over and stretching, in the damn outfit! At certain angles, too many, it was see-through! Shit!
He still had the lamp in his hand, and she thought, with a little tremble running down her backbone, at any moment he might rub her lamp. Then she would have to admit to being his genie, and call him master!
'Do you want to go into the lounge,' she suggested, with a meaningful tone.
It was important to lead him into the lounge out of the way, and she hoped he would leave the lamp here. Only just in time she refrained from calling him, 'Master'. As he held the lamp it made him her master. So intense was the habit, that she only just stopped herself from using the awful word.
Jack was an older man, someone of influence in the community, and a friend to both of them. Since they moved in they had been good neighbours, over the past two years. Calling her neighbour, 'Sir', might be a little weird, but calling him master would seem ridiculous. A tense moment held her, while she stared at the lamp. He held it firmly not looking as though he would ever put it down.
Shit! Even if he put it down now, he was the last one to posses it, and that meant he would possess her, until her husband arrived home. She would somehow contrive for him to pick it up, and take back possession of her.
Just so long as he didn't realise she belonged to him, she was safe. In any case, if she defied him, it would break the fantasy, and she could relax. What if he told her to do something innocent, and feasible, so she simply carried out his order? What if she found herself compelled to follow his orders?
No! That was so very wrong, she mustn't give in to a fable. Her husband was right, she must give up this childish fantasy world. It wasn't as innocent as she had thought.
She looked at the lamp again and wondered if she accidently called him 'Master', what he might do. It would be strange, and she wondered what he would think of her. Would he make her explain what she was playing at? Would he take advantage? A slight shiver of excitement ran over her body, and tickled her imagination.
Having a man accidently take her over, was one of her favourite stories. It wasn't an innocent bedtime story it was something she used with her husband.
She would have to be careful! What man could resist a young woman calling him master, and then explaining she was his obedient genie. There were genies who could give three wishes, and be free of the master. She wasn't like that. Once a person owned her lamp, they owned her.
'No need to be so formal,' he laughed, 'here is fine. I meant to have a word with you about something,' he said.
'I need to get changed,' she nervously said.
'No need, let's have that coffee, and we can both get on with chores,' he heavily said.
For a second she wondered what he meant by 'we', but dismissed it as a figure of speech. She felt embarrassed and worried why she hadn't left the kitchen to change, or hurried him out of the house. Surely the fantasy game hadn't taken her over so much that she was obeying him.
Avoiding him, she busied herself with pouring the coffee. Her bottom was a bit exposed, but so far they had both ignored the naughtiness of it all. Needing to see if he was staring, she turned quickly and plonked a cup down on the table.
He was looking at the lamp not her. She wondered if he had something serious to say, perhaps he was ill, or worse, and she felt a tinge of guilt. She came and sat down with another cup in hand.
He had been too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice the first cup she plonked on the table, and so he reached out to take the one she was holding.
'Thanks I need this,' he told her. He held out the cup indicating she should take the other one. 'A toast, to happy times ahead,' he said.
She reached for the first cup, and felt the little jacket opening up. She felt awful over how thin the top was. He was sure to have noticed her hard nipples, though he made no comment. She sipped the coffee, holding onto the cup with both hands. With her elbows she held the top closed.
He still held the lamp, and it didn't look as though he was ever going to put it down. She was feeling confused, from needing to make him leave the house, and wanting to obey him. No! That was foolish, she couldn't let a private fantasy get out of hand.
She also wondered what was so important that he had to barge in on her like this.
She sipped the coffee, hoping his wasn't as bitter as hers. He didn't seem to take any notice of the way she was dressed, so whatever it was, must be seriously troubling him. She yawned and apologised. She heard him saying something, but the voice seemed to be coming from someone far away. She couldn't make out the words which droned on, becoming further away still.
He recited the necessary words that would put a command into her mind, while she was under a hypnotic influence. It didn't take long, as the drug in the coffee had made her prone to hypnotic suggestion. Something of the old stage act had at last become useful again.
He watched her head slowly sink toward the table, meeting it with a slight bump.
***
Jack wished his friend was here. She was a light little thing, though a dead-weight while unconscious. He rolled her into a packing case, flipped the catch, and tipped it onto a trolley. Wheeling it out and across the yard, he felt irritated.
Breathing heavily, bumping the trunk from their drive onto his, he wondered what the hell he was doing. She could report him for kidnapping, which was a very serious charge. It was one thing for her husband to arrange this, to teach her a lesson, but for him to carry it out, was just too crazy.
He felt so guilty playing this stupid trick on her, he resisted the temptation to feel her luscious body.
As gently as possible he wheeled the trolley down the steps into the basement. On opening a hatch in the bottom of a large box, he realised it was not going to be easy to get her inside. The large fibreglass box was an awkward shape inside, though, with all the sound insulation, it was padded out square on the outside.
He scrunched her up as though she were a child, being brought in from the car, ready for bed. Fortunately, like a kid, she didn't wake. He placed her onto a little platform, and wound the little platform up into the box. It was now closed with her on the inside.
He examined the inside of the box on a monitor, confirming she couldn't see the hatch inside the box. The guys had made a good prop once again. It had been a special favour, getting it made at such short notice, but Donald had paid the extra fee they asked for.
***
Barbara woke up feeling heady as though still drunk, with the unenviable prospect of a hangover. She hadn't drunk anything though. She hadn't even been to a party. The last thing she remembered was being in her kitchen.
'Where the hell is this?' she whispered.
She remembered having a cup of coffee with Jack, and that was all.
Surrounding her were cushions and fine silk hangings. She looked up at them unable to see the ceiling in the gloom. On tiptoe, squinting and opening her eyes wide, she managed to make out the ceiling, which curved in a disturbing way. It was always taken for granted ceilings were flat, and met the tops of walls.
She looked around the small space realising it wasn't a room at all. It was oval, and the walls bent inward, joining at the top to become the ceiling. It was about twelve feet to the far end. She looked straight up to find what might be a chimney, only there was no fire place, which she would have been sitting in.
Pulling the cushions away, she found Persian rugs covering the floor. They seemed familiar, but she couldn't think where they had been seen before. Since Donald had been away so much, a lot of window shopping had been done. Her eye followed an intricate maze like pattern, and the feeling of familiarity grew.
'A maze,' she whispered. 'Why familiar though?'
An illustration for one of the stories in her book, that's where she had seen the pattern. She looked up and stared at the ceiling, to find this shape was familiar, yet different.
Barbara seemed to fold in on herself, to collapse upon the cushions. Her lamp! This space was the same as her lamp, only on the inside! This curve upward, to what she thought was a chimney, was the spout. Over there it curved up, to what was obviously a handle on the outside.
Her heart was thudding in her chest, and her breathing threatened hyperventilation. This must be a dream! She began to relax. A pleasant, happy emotion lightened her mood.
Never before had she dreamt so vividly. She pinched herself, only to yelp and giggle. The small room seemed so real. Perhaps she was under the bed clothes, though the space was much bigger than that.
On hands and knees she crawled around searching under cushions for something, anything, investigating the space like an intrepid explorer. A little box was found.
'How intriguing,' she murmured, her voice sounding like a weaver of tales.
With a click, it sprung open, to reveal jewels. Red rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and precious stones she didn't recognise.
A marvellous one changed colour when turning it between her fingers. Was it an opal? Underneath the magical stones was a tiny sheet of paper. Pulling it gently from under them, she could see tiny writing on it, through the thin paper.
She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should read it. Would it spoil the experience, would it turn out to be a shopping list, or a list of chores? She hoped it might be a challenge, from some prince, needing her help.
'My master gave me jewels, yet I would rather he give me his time,' she read.
There was the watermark of a teardrop in one corner.
'How sad,' she commented, with the happiness of the moment dampened.
Looking at it again, she realised it was her own handwriting. So it was meant to be a message from her subconscious!
How strange dreams are she thought. Who was her master and why did he give her jewels? It must mean her husband. Though really, her master was now the one who held the lamp. Of course it was. Who held the lamp? Barbara cringed on remembering Jack holding it so lightly.
If he were the last to hold the lamp, even if he put it down, he was her master and she must obey him. Somehow, she must get her husband to grip the lamp, so that he was once more her master. Ah! So that is the meaning of this dream! After the argument, she needed to get him back inline and play her games.
She giggled, wondering what sensible Jack would make of all this. Perhaps she should have prostrated herself before him, when he picked up her lamp, just to see the look on his face. Maybe her task as a genie, was to help him overcome whatever it was that troubled him so much.
There was a violent shaking, as though an earthquake had struck. She tumbled about rolling from side to side on the soft cushions. As quickly as it had started, it stopped.
She heard a booming voice calling, 'I summon you, Genie of the lamp. Your master summons you!' the bass voice rolled out like thunder.
Barbara wondered what the significance of the voice was. Maybe she was being woken up from the dream.
***
The recording ended, Jack flicked on a switch, to flood the box with a colourless, and odourless gas. He watched her collapse onto the cushions. The command had worked upon her subconscious, as she was still hypnotised.
Flicking another switch he made sure the hatch was clear, before winching it down. With his head and shoulders inside the box he rolled her onto the platform, and winched her out of the box.
He carried her upstairs over a shoulder, to gently lay her on the lounge carpet. He made a coffee and sat watching her steady breathing. It was certain Donald hadn't expected her to be dressed in this skimpy little outfit, as it was far too revealing. It was far too sexy, when he was about to become the master of a friend's wife.
***
Jack intoned a phrase implanted it into her subconscious through hypnosis, then sat back watching her awaken with a yawn and a stretch.
'Stay where you are, Genie. Your master has summoned you,' Jack said, in as masterful manner as he could muster.
'Is this a dream, am I still asleep?' she yawned.
'No, Genie! I have the lamp and you are here at my command. I am a powerful sorcerer, and you will obey me,' Jack said, with as convincing a tone of voice that he could put on.
He had to keep a straight face for he felt foolish, and he needed to laugh. Now he would find out how taken she was with this fantasy. Donald told him she was totally obsessed, and it was ruining their marriage. He was willing to help, though it hadn't been thought through clearly, when they discussed it over a few glasses of wine.
What appealed to him was the opportunity to create a new magic act. Something he hadn't done for years. He still had the ability to hypnotise, with a little help from a hypnotic drug. It was the props that fascinated him. Donald had paid for this one, making it possible to carry out the trick.
He sat on the edge of the comfortable easy chair, wondering how this would go wrong, as it surely must.
She looked up seeing the lamp in his hands, held out in front of him, as an obvious ploy.
'My lamp,' she whispered.
'My lamp, Genie, which means you too are mine, to command,' he informed her, in an imposing voice.
She just sat in the middle of the carpet looking dazed. He expected something, a complaint, a refusal to play, or maybe a fight over the lamp.
Barbara took it all in, and everything fitted with the television show, the books, and her father's stories. Even the confusion on returning to this world from her lamp was true to the stories. No wonder she felt so strongly about the game. It wasn't just a game it was real!
Her father had been preparing her for the day she was old enough and ready to be a genie. Donald had spoilt all his preparation by putting her off, telling her it was just an obsession, and now it was too late. She'd been captured by a powerful wizard!
A few moments ago she had been in that lamp! Reduced to a tiny creature fitting in the lamp he held, meant she was helpless. He knew what he was doing this morning when he took possession of her lamp. He was right, he owned her as long as he possessed the lamp. Just as the cautionary stories foretold, she had to be wary of who took possession of her lamp.
She belonged to a neighbour now.
If she displeased him he would send her back into her lamp, to sit helplessly in that small world, as a tiny helpless creature.
'How may I serve you master?' Barbara hesitantly asked.
The words were said, on a thin wafer of breath, hardly heard. At all costs she must keep him happy.
'Demonstrate your position Genie, prostrate yourself at my feet,' he demanded.
Acting on stage was one thing, but here it felt far too theatrical. He wasn't too surprised to see her go down on all fours, then bend her head to the floor.
Her head was bent over touching the carpet. In a mirror, behind her, he could see a beautiful tight bottom through the sheer pantaloons. He couldn't see anything else, for she rested her rear on her feet. Besides, he would have to concentrate on the plan, and not spend his time ogling a neighbour's near naked body.
'I have been watching you for some time. The power of your lamp interested me. You seem to have lost all your powers over the ages, but the lamp still glows with magic. Do you have nothing to say to your master? Do I have to remind you of your oath?' he asked fiercely.
His booming stage voice was too loud in the room. It had an effect, stirring her into life. In her mind was the idea that she had been unknowingly a genie all these years. Would she find the reality of being a genie, at someone's beck and call all day, tiresome? Would it break her of the obsession? Her husband thought so.
'I am a genie, ready to obey my master's every wish,' Barbara recited, from the childhood book.
This wasn't right, surely? The man in front of her was John, their neighbour, yet he was dressed as a wizard. She felt certain, without doubt, she had been in her lamp. That little lamp he was holding. How could that be possible?
This was no dream, she was really here, in his home, prostrating herself at his feet, just like the illustrations in those childhood books. Is that why she had been so interested in playing the game? It hadn't been just a game, she was a genie!
The thought of it made her want to cry out with happiness. She shouldn't be prostrating herself to him, it should be her husband. Somehow she must escape, or be rescued. In the story the genie was rescued from a wizard, so would her husband save her?
There were so many questions without answers, her head spun. All she knew was that she had to obey the man who last held her lamp. Even if he put it down and she picked it up, she was still his to command. For the moment then, she would have to obey him.
'Very good, Barbara, you are mine to command. You are in my service now, so behave, or I shall send you back to your lamp,' Jack intoned.
'No master! I mean, please, master. I shall be a good genie for you, and will obey your every command,' she gushed.
Out here she might be able to trick him and escape. She looked at the lamp marvelling at how she had been trapped inside it. The shaking she experienced must have been him, rubbing it. The voice was his, summoning her from her lamp.
Despite feeling guilty over betraying her husband, she felt a thrill to actually be a genie. Her wish had come true! Her master was a big powerful man, a powerful wizard! She had no choice except obey him, for it was so important not to be sent back to her lamp. She would be a helpless little thing in there, unable to summon help.
Jack looked her over, deciding to make it a more enjoyable day. It wasn't his fault she was dressed so provocatively. He couldn't take advantage of a neighbour's wife, though he could at least have a bit of fun.
'Stand up and let me look at what kind of genie I own,' Jack told her.
'Yes, master,' she replied.
She stood with head bowed, her face reddening with embarrassment, knowing how much of her body was on view to him.
'Take off the jacket,' he said.
'Oh! Master!' she exclaimed.
Just glancing at his expression was enough for her to comply.
He knew she had large breasts, though now they were on show, he could see how firm and luscious they were. The bra held her breasts up in a deep cleavage, with the nipples on display. As he stared, they were growing, forming into hard pool-cue-tips, pressing at the thin gauze of the sheer top.
Her midriff was bare, revealing a flat tummy. Her slim long legs were wrapped in the same thin gauze as the top. Slits up the sides showed how fresh and smooth her flesh was. Now she stood straight, he could see her panties through the baggy pantaloons.
Any man in the neighbourhood would give a great deal of money to see her like this. On stage as his assistant, she would draw the crowds. He imagined hypnotising her and sending her among the audience, letting them know she was his to command, letting them take small advantages of her. The ticket price for a show could be doubled.
'Turn around,' Jack commanded.
In an agony of embarrassment she did as she was told, knowing her bottom was on view. He had been a neighbour, friends even, yet she was showing off her body to him. A terrible thought occurred, that if he commanded her to strip, she would have to obey.
'Very nice, very nice indeed. I shall enjoy having such an attractive young genie at my command. It will be a pleasure teaching you my needs,' he said, suggesting something without going too far.
After all, she would be rescued by her husband before the end of the day, and certainly before bedtime. Her husband's idea would be that after the rescue, she would agree not to play such a dangerous game, ever again.
All day he had her cleaning the house, fixing food, making drinks, and generally serving him like a maid. A couple of boxes had to be unpacked and re-packed though it didn't matter for she was there to fetch and carry.
It was embarrassing, bending and stretching in front of him, in such a revealing outfit. It was annoying serving him like a humble servant. Whenever she felt like rebelling, she looked at the little lamp, to help her get through the ordeal. The idea of being so small and vulnerable, in her magic lamp, kept her in line.
The hypnotic suggestion kept her fooled into thinking it was possible. Over the years she had wished for it to be possible, making the hypnotic suggestion a powerful influence. Her own imagination had pushed her into believing she had been in the lamp, just as her husband and Jack had suspected.
Time passed quickly, for Jack was enjoying himself, with a nubile, semi-clad young woman. He noticed it was dark outside and wondered where her husband was. He stepped outside, to look at their house, but there wasn't even a light on. Turning to go back in, he noticed a note pinned to the door.
'Damn! The bastard! What the fuck does he think he's playing at?' Jack exclaimed.
Donald had found someone else, and wouldn't be returning home. The house had been sold and would be cleared tomorrow by removers. Do me a favour, and look after Barbara for me. The note stated.
Simple as that, they had both been tricked. Jack walked back in slamming the door behind him.
Barbara jumped, from the loud bang and dropped a glass of orange juice onto the carpet.
'Sorry, master,' she whined.
Up until then she had carried out all his instructions without mishap. The last thing she wanted was to be punished, by being sent back into the lamp.
His harsh look had her jumping back from him. She scampered back to the kitchen and hurried back with a cloth, and the now familiar cleaning things. On hands and knees she scrubbed at the mess, making it worse.
'I'm sorry, master. Please don't send me back into the lamp. Punish me in some other way. Put me over your knee,' she simpered, only just holding back the tears.
Jack was so angry at them both, he considered it. A moment ago he was going to tell her what his anger was all about. It had all been a ruse concocted by her husband. It wasn't to break her out of the stupid obsession, it was to get rid of her. What a terrible thing to do to anyone, especially a beautiful woman like Barbara.
Damn! The guy had sold the house and all their possessions. He had pocketed the money and deserted her, leaving her with nothing. No wonder the note said to look after her. He wouldn't have been able to escape leaving her with nothing, if this stupid plan hadn't been concocted.
He'd been instrumental in planning her ordeal. How could he tell her it was all a plot to dispose of her. On the other hand she had to be told, as he couldn't keep her. Damn! He'd been tricked into this, and if she hadn't had this stupid obsession he wouldn't have been suckered into it.
'Leave it! Come here!' he ordered.
Without being told, she spread herself over his knee. The anger was still there, enough to slap her upturned ass. The flinch of her body from the pain was satisfying. He slapped her ass again. It was turning red, easily seen through the thin gauze covering it.
'Ouch! Sorry, master for spilling on your carpet,' she humbly spoke.
The slaps hurt his hand, though the anger was still there. It was fuelled from being fooled, and being put in a difficult position. If he revealed it had all been a game, she could call the police. He had kidnapped her, and kept her in a box in the basement. It made him feel so stupid to have been tricked so easily.
The woman's husband had him trapped. He would have to keep her entertained, while her husband sold off all their belongings, including the house, without sharing the proceeds with her. How clever was the damn husband, and how stupid was he.
'Oww! Please don't hurt me.'
'Oww! Please, master, I'll be a good genie, honest.'
'Oww! Master, please!'
'Ouch! Sorry, master, I promise to be an obedient genie for you, master,' she eagerly promised.
It was all because he wanted to see if he could still carry out a magic trick, and now he had to face a prosecution.
'Ouch! Sorry, master, please don't hurt your faithful genie, please!' she begged.
'Ouch! I'll be a good girl, and do as I'm told!'
'Ouch! Please, master, I'll be a goof girl, and an obedient genie, honest!'
She feel off his knee, sobbing like a little girl before a demanding father. Standing before him, she dare not rub her sore bottom. It no longer mattered that she was almost naked before him, as she had become used to it during the day. The spanking had a far greater affect upon her. The spanking had confirmed she was his, to do with as he pleased.
She felt like a naughty little girl, after having her bottom spanked by her father. He too had been a big strong man, with a deep voice. The strong parental figure her master became, influenced her thinking. He was being strict and expected her to behave and do as she was told, just as her father had. She looked down at her feet, looking past her large breasts.
'I'll be a good little girl from now on, master. Your genie will behave and comply with your orders, master. Genie promises to obey, honest, master,' she gushed.
'Crawl to me,' he ordered.
On hands and knees, she crawled across the carpet, then pushed her face in his crotch.
Looking up at him she said, 'Your genie will obey her master, whatever master wants,' she sincerely promised.
'You know what your master wants,' he said, with a masterful voice, driven by anger.
All day, Jack had thought of this and other ways of using her. She was a married woman, married to a friend, so she was off limits. Not now she wasn't.
He watched her carefully pull his cock from his pants, and lick it. Her eyes were on him, looking for approval. Those large blue eyes, combined with long blond hair gave her a look of innocence. Her rosebud lips looked as though they were made to be wrapped around his cock.
She was squatting on her haunches between his knees. Her mouth pouted, making it a perfect fit for his cock. She worked hard on his cock, licking its length, until it was thoroughly wet, then she sucked it's head into her mouth.
Barbara new her master was very angry, enough that he was ready to send her back into the lamp. He must have sensed her thoughts of escaping him. How she would do that while he held her lamp, she had no idea. But such thought must be banished from her mind.
As she promised when he spanked her, she would have to be his devoted genie, and obey his every command. He could send her back to the lamp, and forget about her. The last thing she wanted was to be banished to the lamp and spend her remain years there. She was too young to live such a terrible life.
Barbara was determined to prove her worth. Whatever her master wanted, she would do with all her heart and soul. She would do her very best to please him. Beguiling him with her body would keep his interest, and keep her out of the lamp.
She pushed her head down its length, sucking it all in. Her throat was tight, gripping his cock powerfully. It was a wonderful sensation for him, though daunting for her. Then she began the slow journey back up from kissing his pubes, until her lips were once more sucking the head of his cock.
Her tongue ran along its underside, while she pushed her head down, absorbing it all. Speeding up, her head began to bob more quickly, until he let loose a big sigh and moaned in rhythm with her nodding head. She found his rhythm and stuck to it. He yelled he was about to cum, but she didn't care.
A deep breath was taken, and she pushed back down to swallow his cock, then swallow his shots. Streams of cum shot down her throat directly into her tummy. At least that way she didn't have to taste it. Unable to breathe she came up for air.
A couple more shots splashed her lips, and she had to lick them up, and swallow the sticky fluid.
Sitting back on her haunches, she looked very pleased with herself.
Donald wanted him to look after her, and he would, not for that dirty rat of a husband. He would protect her from the truth. Watching her squirming, promising to obey, left him with little choice. He would have to take on the responsibility of looking after a beautiful young woman, who was willing to pander to his whims. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad deal after all.
Barbara was fascinated by a television program, which harked back to a favourite childhood story, about a genie in a lamp. When she married Donald it became a favourite bedroom fantasy, for her. She ordered a Halloween costume over the internet, and played naughty games with him, when he was in the mood to indulge her.
She dressed up in the naughty outfit every chance she got. It consisted of sheer pantaloons, a g-string, a little open waist jacket over a sheer top, and carpet slippers with pointy toes. A gauze scarf was wrapped around her face, with her large hazel eyes peering above it. The outfit left her looking full of mysterious Eastern promise.
Her smooth skin would be teasingly exposed and hidden, as she moved in the filmy outfit. Her voluptuous hour glass figure was tantalisingly revealed and hidden. Her thighs were glimpsed through the slits of the pantaloons. When the little waist jacket fell open, prominent breasts were revealed in a haze of thin gauze.
With Donald's promotion came business trips away from home. Working harder meant less time together, and when home, he was tired. She tried harder to interest him, cooking his favourite meals and pampering him when home. While he was away she recorded his favourite sports programs.
Over the last year their love life began to wane, with him hardly ever wanting to play her favourite game, or anything else. Recently an old Eastern brass lamp, a birthday present from her father, was rediscovered in the attic. It became a focus for the fantasy. She would dress up, pretending to be a genie, acting as though the lamp were a precious possession.
'Leave that damn lamp alone! You're obsessed with it!' Donald complained.
'Stop complaining! I'm willing to be your genie, and look after you, aren't I?'
'Yes, you do look after me, but I'm fed up with this genie stuff. It's not right! You're twenty-two, not twelve. You should have grown out of them by now. We shouldn't need to play that game all the time. I don't find it sexy, so let's just do without it,' he told her.
She wanted to be his genie, and needed him to play along. Barbara thought he meant he was fed up with her. Forgetting the genie game, would be impossible as it was so strongly ingrained in her way of thinking. He just didn't understand her at all.
They argued some more about mundane things, until he stormed off to the spare bedroom. She lay on the bed feeling hurt and neglected. For the rest of the week they spoke hardly at all. Just enough to carry on the necessary day to day chores of life. Barbara didn't mention anything to do with a genie, or dare wear the genie outfit.
All that week, while he was at the office, she dressed up in the magical outfit, playing out her favourite fantasy. It gave her some comfort to play the little game, though it was becoming even more of an obsession since he had shouted at her.
After completing chores while dressed as a fabled Eastern Genie, she would watch an episode of the show, or read a well thumbed book. When he declared her obsession stupid, she rebelled, to more intensely throw herself into it. Rather than abandon the childish fantasy, she immersed herself further into it.
***
Friday came around quickly, and surprisingly a neighbour called. Without thinking about how she was dressed, the door was opened to him.
'Hi, Jack,' she said.
Fortunately the door wasn't fully open, for the bright sunlight would have shone right through the outfit. With a look of embarrassment upon her face she peered out at him, feeling very vulnerable.
'Hi Barbara,' he started to say something, then caught how she was dressed. On seeing her hiding, he added. 'You just got up? Hope I haven't caught you in your pyjamas.'
The thought of her wearing a brief nightie was enough to interest him, as she had such an attractive figure, the most alluring in the neighbourhood. The young woman was a beautiful, shapely blond. Her long shiny hair was alluring, but it was her large breasts that attracted him. One was leaning out at him from behind the door.
Hell! What was the girl wearing? Her breast was pointing at him, from an almost sheer piece of material.
'No, not really,' she lamely said.
'My telephone number is changing on Monday. I need to give you my new number, do you have a pen and paper?' he asked.
When she left the door ajar he couldn't help push it open. He wanted to see more of this attractive neighbour. Whatever it was she was wearing, it didn't seem to be covering her very well. Not seeing her around, he stepped in.
'Oh!' she exclaimed.
Hurrying from the kitchen she bumped into him. For a moment they just stood staring at each other.
'You trying on an outfit for a party?' he asked, with his eyes roving all over her body.
'Yes, a party,' she lied.
He wrote the number down with a trembling hand.
'Can you read it?' he asked.
It gave him a chance to take a better look at her, while she was distracted.
'I don't suppose I could scrounge a cup of coffee, everything is ready to go. All that packing, its thirsty work,' he laughed, with the nervousness showing.
'I'm in a bit of a hurry, Jack, another time maybe,' she said, a little too harshly.
He wasn't staring but it was obvious he was taking a good look at the outfit. She felt guilty and abashed at showing off her body to a neighbour. He and Donald were friends, so she felt safe enough. It was just that it was so naughty, she felt uncomfortable.
They both ignored the embarrassment by talking about nothing much. She wished he would shut up and go, yet it seemed they were trapped in a never ending conversation.
Her body swayed a little, between herding him toward the door, and not wanting to get too close to him. She didn't want to give him any ideas. Unfortunately he wasn't taking the hint, as each time she moved forward, he stood his ground, so she had to back off.
The last thing she wanted was to be close enough for a goodbye hug. The neighbour was sure to wrap his arms around her, and feel how insubstantial the brief outfit was. She would be almost naked in his arms, and he was a big strong handsome man. Better not tempt him into anything they would regret.
He was older, about forty-five, and a powerful figure, like her father. It was her father who told the bedtime genie stories. It was nostalgia that resurrected the stories, and hooked her into making up fantasies involving a genie. not working, and her husband working away, left her plenty of time to indulge herself.
The hall was too narrow to squeeze past, while dressed so briefly. It felt as though she were flaunting herself to her husband's friend.
Ready to dash past him, to open the door, she stopped absolutely still, with a look of anguish upon her face. She wanted to dive at the hall table, but everything was moving in slow motion. Her racing thoughts watched the disaster unfold, without a chance of redemption, no way to catch up with events. She couldn't move, as though becoming a statue, with both feet melding with the stone tiled floor.
'This goes with the outfit does it?' he asked, absently picking up the old lamp.
He knew what it was and what it meant, as Donald had moaned about it to him. After a few drinks, Jack had offered to help, though he hadn't thought about how or when.
A stifled yell was turned into a cough. He had her precious lamp in his hand, casually swinging it with a finger through a loop of its handle. Barbara wanted to snatch it from his grasp, but was terrified he might drop it.
'Do you want that coffee,' she asked, hoping he would put it down.
In the story and her fantasies, whoever possessed the lamp possessed her, so she had to obey them. It was only a fable and a fancy, though she had concentrated a lot of time and effort into playing out the fantasy. A little shiver ran up her spine.
Why was she doing this? Was she going to make a coffee in abeyance to his wishes, or to distract him from the lamp? Either way, it was not a healthy thing to do. Keep him here any longer than necessary was foolish. Something silly would happen and she would be to blame, because of the way she was dressed.
The damned housecoat wasn't behind the kitchen door where it usually hung, and she didn't want to go into the lounge serving coffee dressed like this. She quickly put on the coffee and arranged two mugs. While the coffee bubbled she could dash upstairs to put something decent on.
She turned from the sink and stood still in astonishment, blinking a pair of large blue eyes at him. He'd followed her into the kitchen! He watched her bending over and stretching, in the damn outfit! At certain angles, too many, it was see-through! Shit!
He still had the lamp in his hand, and she thought, with a little tremble running down her backbone, at any moment he might rub her lamp. Then she would have to admit to being his genie, and call him master!
'Do you want to go into the lounge,' she suggested, with a meaningful tone.
It was important to lead him into the lounge out of the way, and she hoped he would leave the lamp here. Only just in time she refrained from calling him, 'Master'. As he held the lamp it made him her master. So intense was the habit, that she only just stopped herself from using the awful word.
Jack was an older man, someone of influence in the community, and a friend to both of them. Since they moved in they had been good neighbours, over the past two years. Calling her neighbour, 'Sir', might be a little weird, but calling him master would seem ridiculous. A tense moment held her, while she stared at the lamp. He held it firmly not looking as though he would ever put it down.
Shit! Even if he put it down now, he was the last one to posses it, and that meant he would possess her, until her husband arrived home. She would somehow contrive for him to pick it up, and take back possession of her.
Just so long as he didn't realise she belonged to him, she was safe. In any case, if she defied him, it would break the fantasy, and she could relax. What if he told her to do something innocent, and feasible, so she simply carried out his order? What if she found herself compelled to follow his orders?
No! That was so very wrong, she mustn't give in to a fable. Her husband was right, she must give up this childish fantasy world. It wasn't as innocent as she had thought.
She looked at the lamp again and wondered if she accidently called him 'Master', what he might do. It would be strange, and she wondered what he would think of her. Would he make her explain what she was playing at? Would he take advantage? A slight shiver of excitement ran over her body, and tickled her imagination.
Having a man accidently take her over, was one of her favourite stories. It wasn't an innocent bedtime story it was something she used with her husband.
She would have to be careful! What man could resist a young woman calling him master, and then explaining she was his obedient genie. There were genies who could give three wishes, and be free of the master. She wasn't like that. Once a person owned her lamp, they owned her.
'No need to be so formal,' he laughed, 'here is fine. I meant to have a word with you about something,' he said.
'I need to get changed,' she nervously said.
'No need, let's have that coffee, and we can both get on with chores,' he heavily said.
For a second she wondered what he meant by 'we', but dismissed it as a figure of speech. She felt embarrassed and worried why she hadn't left the kitchen to change, or hurried him out of the house. Surely the fantasy game hadn't taken her over so much that she was obeying him.
Avoiding him, she busied herself with pouring the coffee. Her bottom was a bit exposed, but so far they had both ignored the naughtiness of it all. Needing to see if he was staring, she turned quickly and plonked a cup down on the table.
He was looking at the lamp not her. She wondered if he had something serious to say, perhaps he was ill, or worse, and she felt a tinge of guilt. She came and sat down with another cup in hand.
He had been too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice the first cup she plonked on the table, and so he reached out to take the one she was holding.
'Thanks I need this,' he told her. He held out the cup indicating she should take the other one. 'A toast, to happy times ahead,' he said.
She reached for the first cup, and felt the little jacket opening up. She felt awful over how thin the top was. He was sure to have noticed her hard nipples, though he made no comment. She sipped the coffee, holding onto the cup with both hands. With her elbows she held the top closed.
He still held the lamp, and it didn't look as though he was ever going to put it down. She was feeling confused, from needing to make him leave the house, and wanting to obey him. No! That was foolish, she couldn't let a private fantasy get out of hand.
She also wondered what was so important that he had to barge in on her like this.
She sipped the coffee, hoping his wasn't as bitter as hers. He didn't seem to take any notice of the way she was dressed, so whatever it was, must be seriously troubling him. She yawned and apologised. She heard him saying something, but the voice seemed to be coming from someone far away. She couldn't make out the words which droned on, becoming further away still.
He recited the necessary words that would put a command into her mind, while she was under a hypnotic influence. It didn't take long, as the drug in the coffee had made her prone to hypnotic suggestion. Something of the old stage act had at last become useful again.
He watched her head slowly sink toward the table, meeting it with a slight bump.
***
Jack wished his friend was here. She was a light little thing, though a dead-weight while unconscious. He rolled her into a packing case, flipped the catch, and tipped it onto a trolley. Wheeling it out and across the yard, he felt irritated.
Breathing heavily, bumping the trunk from their drive onto his, he wondered what the hell he was doing. She could report him for kidnapping, which was a very serious charge. It was one thing for her husband to arrange this, to teach her a lesson, but for him to carry it out, was just too crazy.
He felt so guilty playing this stupid trick on her, he resisted the temptation to feel her luscious body.
As gently as possible he wheeled the trolley down the steps into the basement. On opening a hatch in the bottom of a large box, he realised it was not going to be easy to get her inside. The large fibreglass box was an awkward shape inside, though, with all the sound insulation, it was padded out square on the outside.
He scrunched her up as though she were a child, being brought in from the car, ready for bed. Fortunately, like a kid, she didn't wake. He placed her onto a little platform, and wound the little platform up into the box. It was now closed with her on the inside.
He examined the inside of the box on a monitor, confirming she couldn't see the hatch inside the box. The guys had made a good prop once again. It had been a special favour, getting it made at such short notice, but Donald had paid the extra fee they asked for.
***
Barbara woke up feeling heady as though still drunk, with the unenviable prospect of a hangover. She hadn't drunk anything though. She hadn't even been to a party. The last thing she remembered was being in her kitchen.
'Where the hell is this?' she whispered.
She remembered having a cup of coffee with Jack, and that was all.
Surrounding her were cushions and fine silk hangings. She looked up at them unable to see the ceiling in the gloom. On tiptoe, squinting and opening her eyes wide, she managed to make out the ceiling, which curved in a disturbing way. It was always taken for granted ceilings were flat, and met the tops of walls.
She looked around the small space realising it wasn't a room at all. It was oval, and the walls bent inward, joining at the top to become the ceiling. It was about twelve feet to the far end. She looked straight up to find what might be a chimney, only there was no fire place, which she would have been sitting in.
Pulling the cushions away, she found Persian rugs covering the floor. They seemed familiar, but she couldn't think where they had been seen before. Since Donald had been away so much, a lot of window shopping had been done. Her eye followed an intricate maze like pattern, and the feeling of familiarity grew.
'A maze,' she whispered. 'Why familiar though?'
An illustration for one of the stories in her book, that's where she had seen the pattern. She looked up and stared at the ceiling, to find this shape was familiar, yet different.
Barbara seemed to fold in on herself, to collapse upon the cushions. Her lamp! This space was the same as her lamp, only on the inside! This curve upward, to what she thought was a chimney, was the spout. Over there it curved up, to what was obviously a handle on the outside.
Her heart was thudding in her chest, and her breathing threatened hyperventilation. This must be a dream! She began to relax. A pleasant, happy emotion lightened her mood.
Never before had she dreamt so vividly. She pinched herself, only to yelp and giggle. The small room seemed so real. Perhaps she was under the bed clothes, though the space was much bigger than that.
On hands and knees she crawled around searching under cushions for something, anything, investigating the space like an intrepid explorer. A little box was found.
'How intriguing,' she murmured, her voice sounding like a weaver of tales.
With a click, it sprung open, to reveal jewels. Red rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and precious stones she didn't recognise.
A marvellous one changed colour when turning it between her fingers. Was it an opal? Underneath the magical stones was a tiny sheet of paper. Pulling it gently from under them, she could see tiny writing on it, through the thin paper.
She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should read it. Would it spoil the experience, would it turn out to be a shopping list, or a list of chores? She hoped it might be a challenge, from some prince, needing her help.
'My master gave me jewels, yet I would rather he give me his time,' she read.
There was the watermark of a teardrop in one corner.
'How sad,' she commented, with the happiness of the moment dampened.
Looking at it again, she realised it was her own handwriting. So it was meant to be a message from her subconscious!
How strange dreams are she thought. Who was her master and why did he give her jewels? It must mean her husband. Though really, her master was now the one who held the lamp. Of course it was. Who held the lamp? Barbara cringed on remembering Jack holding it so lightly.
If he were the last to hold the lamp, even if he put it down, he was her master and she must obey him. Somehow, she must get her husband to grip the lamp, so that he was once more her master. Ah! So that is the meaning of this dream! After the argument, she needed to get him back inline and play her games.
She giggled, wondering what sensible Jack would make of all this. Perhaps she should have prostrated herself before him, when he picked up her lamp, just to see the look on his face. Maybe her task as a genie, was to help him overcome whatever it was that troubled him so much.
There was a violent shaking, as though an earthquake had struck. She tumbled about rolling from side to side on the soft cushions. As quickly as it had started, it stopped.
She heard a booming voice calling, 'I summon you, Genie of the lamp. Your master summons you!' the bass voice rolled out like thunder.
Barbara wondered what the significance of the voice was. Maybe she was being woken up from the dream.
***
The recording ended, Jack flicked on a switch, to flood the box with a colourless, and odourless gas. He watched her collapse onto the cushions. The command had worked upon her subconscious, as she was still hypnotised.
Flicking another switch he made sure the hatch was clear, before winching it down. With his head and shoulders inside the box he rolled her onto the platform, and winched her out of the box.
He carried her upstairs over a shoulder, to gently lay her on the lounge carpet. He made a coffee and sat watching her steady breathing. It was certain Donald hadn't expected her to be dressed in this skimpy little outfit, as it was far too revealing. It was far too sexy, when he was about to become the master of a friend's wife.
***
Jack intoned a phrase implanted it into her subconscious through hypnosis, then sat back watching her awaken with a yawn and a stretch.
'Stay where you are, Genie. Your master has summoned you,' Jack said, in as masterful manner as he could muster.
'Is this a dream, am I still asleep?' she yawned.
'No, Genie! I have the lamp and you are here at my command. I am a powerful sorcerer, and you will obey me,' Jack said, with as convincing a tone of voice that he could put on.
He had to keep a straight face for he felt foolish, and he needed to laugh. Now he would find out how taken she was with this fantasy. Donald told him she was totally obsessed, and it was ruining their marriage. He was willing to help, though it hadn't been thought through clearly, when they discussed it over a few glasses of wine.
What appealed to him was the opportunity to create a new magic act. Something he hadn't done for years. He still had the ability to hypnotise, with a little help from a hypnotic drug. It was the props that fascinated him. Donald had paid for this one, making it possible to carry out the trick.
He sat on the edge of the comfortable easy chair, wondering how this would go wrong, as it surely must.
She looked up seeing the lamp in his hands, held out in front of him, as an obvious ploy.
'My lamp,' she whispered.
'My lamp, Genie, which means you too are mine, to command,' he informed her, in an imposing voice.
She just sat in the middle of the carpet looking dazed. He expected something, a complaint, a refusal to play, or maybe a fight over the lamp.
Barbara took it all in, and everything fitted with the television show, the books, and her father's stories. Even the confusion on returning to this world from her lamp was true to the stories. No wonder she felt so strongly about the game. It wasn't just a game it was real!
Her father had been preparing her for the day she was old enough and ready to be a genie. Donald had spoilt all his preparation by putting her off, telling her it was just an obsession, and now it was too late. She'd been captured by a powerful wizard!
A few moments ago she had been in that lamp! Reduced to a tiny creature fitting in the lamp he held, meant she was helpless. He knew what he was doing this morning when he took possession of her lamp. He was right, he owned her as long as he possessed the lamp. Just as the cautionary stories foretold, she had to be wary of who took possession of her lamp.
She belonged to a neighbour now.
If she displeased him he would send her back into her lamp, to sit helplessly in that small world, as a tiny helpless creature.
'How may I serve you master?' Barbara hesitantly asked.
The words were said, on a thin wafer of breath, hardly heard. At all costs she must keep him happy.
'Demonstrate your position Genie, prostrate yourself at my feet,' he demanded.
Acting on stage was one thing, but here it felt far too theatrical. He wasn't too surprised to see her go down on all fours, then bend her head to the floor.
Her head was bent over touching the carpet. In a mirror, behind her, he could see a beautiful tight bottom through the sheer pantaloons. He couldn't see anything else, for she rested her rear on her feet. Besides, he would have to concentrate on the plan, and not spend his time ogling a neighbour's near naked body.
'I have been watching you for some time. The power of your lamp interested me. You seem to have lost all your powers over the ages, but the lamp still glows with magic. Do you have nothing to say to your master? Do I have to remind you of your oath?' he asked fiercely.
His booming stage voice was too loud in the room. It had an effect, stirring her into life. In her mind was the idea that she had been unknowingly a genie all these years. Would she find the reality of being a genie, at someone's beck and call all day, tiresome? Would it break her of the obsession? Her husband thought so.
'I am a genie, ready to obey my master's every wish,' Barbara recited, from the childhood book.
This wasn't right, surely? The man in front of her was John, their neighbour, yet he was dressed as a wizard. She felt certain, without doubt, she had been in her lamp. That little lamp he was holding. How could that be possible?
This was no dream, she was really here, in his home, prostrating herself at his feet, just like the illustrations in those childhood books. Is that why she had been so interested in playing the game? It hadn't been just a game, she was a genie!
The thought of it made her want to cry out with happiness. She shouldn't be prostrating herself to him, it should be her husband. Somehow she must escape, or be rescued. In the story the genie was rescued from a wizard, so would her husband save her?
There were so many questions without answers, her head spun. All she knew was that she had to obey the man who last held her lamp. Even if he put it down and she picked it up, she was still his to command. For the moment then, she would have to obey him.
'Very good, Barbara, you are mine to command. You are in my service now, so behave, or I shall send you back to your lamp,' Jack intoned.
'No master! I mean, please, master. I shall be a good genie for you, and will obey your every command,' she gushed.
Out here she might be able to trick him and escape. She looked at the lamp marvelling at how she had been trapped inside it. The shaking she experienced must have been him, rubbing it. The voice was his, summoning her from her lamp.
Despite feeling guilty over betraying her husband, she felt a thrill to actually be a genie. Her wish had come true! Her master was a big powerful man, a powerful wizard! She had no choice except obey him, for it was so important not to be sent back to her lamp. She would be a helpless little thing in there, unable to summon help.
Jack looked her over, deciding to make it a more enjoyable day. It wasn't his fault she was dressed so provocatively. He couldn't take advantage of a neighbour's wife, though he could at least have a bit of fun.
'Stand up and let me look at what kind of genie I own,' Jack told her.
'Yes, master,' she replied.
She stood with head bowed, her face reddening with embarrassment, knowing how much of her body was on view to him.
'Take off the jacket,' he said.
'Oh! Master!' she exclaimed.
Just glancing at his expression was enough for her to comply.
He knew she had large breasts, though now they were on show, he could see how firm and luscious they were. The bra held her breasts up in a deep cleavage, with the nipples on display. As he stared, they were growing, forming into hard pool-cue-tips, pressing at the thin gauze of the sheer top.
Her midriff was bare, revealing a flat tummy. Her slim long legs were wrapped in the same thin gauze as the top. Slits up the sides showed how fresh and smooth her flesh was. Now she stood straight, he could see her panties through the baggy pantaloons.
Any man in the neighbourhood would give a great deal of money to see her like this. On stage as his assistant, she would draw the crowds. He imagined hypnotising her and sending her among the audience, letting them know she was his to command, letting them take small advantages of her. The ticket price for a show could be doubled.
'Turn around,' Jack commanded.
In an agony of embarrassment she did as she was told, knowing her bottom was on view. He had been a neighbour, friends even, yet she was showing off her body to him. A terrible thought occurred, that if he commanded her to strip, she would have to obey.
'Very nice, very nice indeed. I shall enjoy having such an attractive young genie at my command. It will be a pleasure teaching you my needs,' he said, suggesting something without going too far.
After all, she would be rescued by her husband before the end of the day, and certainly before bedtime. Her husband's idea would be that after the rescue, she would agree not to play such a dangerous game, ever again.
All day he had her cleaning the house, fixing food, making drinks, and generally serving him like a maid. A couple of boxes had to be unpacked and re-packed though it didn't matter for she was there to fetch and carry.
It was embarrassing, bending and stretching in front of him, in such a revealing outfit. It was annoying serving him like a humble servant. Whenever she felt like rebelling, she looked at the little lamp, to help her get through the ordeal. The idea of being so small and vulnerable, in her magic lamp, kept her in line.
The hypnotic suggestion kept her fooled into thinking it was possible. Over the years she had wished for it to be possible, making the hypnotic suggestion a powerful influence. Her own imagination had pushed her into believing she had been in the lamp, just as her husband and Jack had suspected.
Time passed quickly, for Jack was enjoying himself, with a nubile, semi-clad young woman. He noticed it was dark outside and wondered where her husband was. He stepped outside, to look at their house, but there wasn't even a light on. Turning to go back in, he noticed a note pinned to the door.
'Damn! The bastard! What the fuck does he think he's playing at?' Jack exclaimed.
Donald had found someone else, and wouldn't be returning home. The house had been sold and would be cleared tomorrow by removers. Do me a favour, and look after Barbara for me. The note stated.
Simple as that, they had both been tricked. Jack walked back in slamming the door behind him.
Barbara jumped, from the loud bang and dropped a glass of orange juice onto the carpet.
'Sorry, master,' she whined.
Up until then she had carried out all his instructions without mishap. The last thing she wanted was to be punished, by being sent back into the lamp.
His harsh look had her jumping back from him. She scampered back to the kitchen and hurried back with a cloth, and the now familiar cleaning things. On hands and knees she scrubbed at the mess, making it worse.
'I'm sorry, master. Please don't send me back into the lamp. Punish me in some other way. Put me over your knee,' she simpered, only just holding back the tears.
Jack was so angry at them both, he considered it. A moment ago he was going to tell her what his anger was all about. It had all been a ruse concocted by her husband. It wasn't to break her out of the stupid obsession, it was to get rid of her. What a terrible thing to do to anyone, especially a beautiful woman like Barbara.
Damn! The guy had sold the house and all their possessions. He had pocketed the money and deserted her, leaving her with nothing. No wonder the note said to look after her. He wouldn't have been able to escape leaving her with nothing, if this stupid plan hadn't been concocted.
He'd been instrumental in planning her ordeal. How could he tell her it was all a plot to dispose of her. On the other hand she had to be told, as he couldn't keep her. Damn! He'd been tricked into this, and if she hadn't had this stupid obsession he wouldn't have been suckered into it.
'Leave it! Come here!' he ordered.
Without being told, she spread herself over his knee. The anger was still there, enough to slap her upturned ass. The flinch of her body from the pain was satisfying. He slapped her ass again. It was turning red, easily seen through the thin gauze covering it.
'Ouch! Sorry, master for spilling on your carpet,' she humbly spoke.
The slaps hurt his hand, though the anger was still there. It was fuelled from being fooled, and being put in a difficult position. If he revealed it had all been a game, she could call the police. He had kidnapped her, and kept her in a box in the basement. It made him feel so stupid to have been tricked so easily.
The woman's husband had him trapped. He would have to keep her entertained, while her husband sold off all their belongings, including the house, without sharing the proceeds with her. How clever was the damn husband, and how stupid was he.
'Oww! Please don't hurt me.'
'Oww! Please, master, I'll be a good genie, honest.'
'Oww! Master, please!'
'Ouch! Sorry, master, I promise to be an obedient genie for you, master,' she eagerly promised.
It was all because he wanted to see if he could still carry out a magic trick, and now he had to face a prosecution.
'Ouch! Sorry, master, please don't hurt your faithful genie, please!' she begged.
'Ouch! I'll be a good girl, and do as I'm told!'
'Ouch! Please, master, I'll be a goof girl, and an obedient genie, honest!'
She feel off his knee, sobbing like a little girl before a demanding father. Standing before him, she dare not rub her sore bottom. It no longer mattered that she was almost naked before him, as she had become used to it during the day. The spanking had a far greater affect upon her. The spanking had confirmed she was his, to do with as he pleased.
She felt like a naughty little girl, after having her bottom spanked by her father. He too had been a big strong man, with a deep voice. The strong parental figure her master became, influenced her thinking. He was being strict and expected her to behave and do as she was told, just as her father had. She looked down at her feet, looking past her large breasts.
'I'll be a good little girl from now on, master. Your genie will behave and comply with your orders, master. Genie promises to obey, honest, master,' she gushed.
'Crawl to me,' he ordered.
On hands and knees, she crawled across the carpet, then pushed her face in his crotch.
Looking up at him she said, 'Your genie will obey her master, whatever master wants,' she sincerely promised.
'You know what your master wants,' he said, with a masterful voice, driven by anger.
All day, Jack had thought of this and other ways of using her. She was a married woman, married to a friend, so she was off limits. Not now she wasn't.
He watched her carefully pull his cock from his pants, and lick it. Her eyes were on him, looking for approval. Those large blue eyes, combined with long blond hair gave her a look of innocence. Her rosebud lips looked as though they were made to be wrapped around his cock.
She was squatting on her haunches between his knees. Her mouth pouted, making it a perfect fit for his cock. She worked hard on his cock, licking its length, until it was thoroughly wet, then she sucked it's head into her mouth.
Barbara new her master was very angry, enough that he was ready to send her back into the lamp. He must have sensed her thoughts of escaping him. How she would do that while he held her lamp, she had no idea. But such thought must be banished from her mind.
As she promised when he spanked her, she would have to be his devoted genie, and obey his every command. He could send her back to the lamp, and forget about her. The last thing she wanted was to be banished to the lamp and spend her remain years there. She was too young to live such a terrible life.
Barbara was determined to prove her worth. Whatever her master wanted, she would do with all her heart and soul. She would do her very best to please him. Beguiling him with her body would keep his interest, and keep her out of the lamp.
She pushed her head down its length, sucking it all in. Her throat was tight, gripping his cock powerfully. It was a wonderful sensation for him, though daunting for her. Then she began the slow journey back up from kissing his pubes, until her lips were once more sucking the head of his cock.
Her tongue ran along its underside, while she pushed her head down, absorbing it all. Speeding up, her head began to bob more quickly, until he let loose a big sigh and moaned in rhythm with her nodding head. She found his rhythm and stuck to it. He yelled he was about to cum, but she didn't care.
A deep breath was taken, and she pushed back down to swallow his cock, then swallow his shots. Streams of cum shot down her throat directly into her tummy. At least that way she didn't have to taste it. Unable to breathe she came up for air.
A couple more shots splashed her lips, and she had to lick them up, and swallow the sticky fluid.
Sitting back on her haunches, she looked very pleased with herself.
Donald wanted him to look after her, and he would, not for that dirty rat of a husband. He would protect her from the truth. Watching her squirming, promising to obey, left him with little choice. He would have to take on the responsibility of looking after a beautiful young woman, who was willing to pander to his whims. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad deal after all.