How to use your Genie - Sex Stories

How to use your Genie

... question hung in the air, bringing an intriguing depth to our post-coital quiet.

"You can't truly savor pleasure without tasting a bit of pain," I mused, giving her nipple a gentle squeeze. A soft gasp escaped her lips at the sensation. "Tell me, Genie, when I finally allowed you to cum, how did it feel?"

"It... It was unparalleled," she admitted, her voice shaky. "A mix of sharp pain and incredible pleasure... No one has ever evoked such feelings in me."

"And did you enjoy it?" I probed, curious about her answer.

"It was intense, Master, very painful. But..." She paused, her lips trembling slightly, "Yes, I believe I did. More than I anticipated."

A low chuckle escaped me at her confession. "That's why I did it, Jeanie."

"I see, Master," she murmured, her eyes reflecting newfound understanding. "It seems there is much I need to learn."

I grinned down at her, tracing a finger down her body. "Indeed, Jeanie. You have much to learn. And I'm just the man to teach you."

~Jeanie~

Even though I am hundreds of years old, time still felt heavy and cruel as the funeral of my last master, John's grandfather, drew closer. A sadness etched into my heart, a pang for a master who had been kind and understanding, so unlike my new one.

"Get ready," John's curt command pulled me from my thoughts. His eyes held a gleam that made my stomach twist with anxiety. He pointed towards a walk-in closet, overflowing with numerous dresses of all colors and styles. "I've ...

... picked something out for you."

The dress he pointed out was a deep black, cut in an exaggerated style that left little to the imagination. I had worn many things over the centuries, yet the explicitness of this attire took me aback.

"Don't look so shocked, Jeanie," he taunted, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Put it on."

Biting back the protest rising in my throat, I summon my powers, the dress materializing onto my form. It clung to every curve, the top revealing much more than I was comfortable with. I felt a flush of embarrassment creep onto my cheeks, my body standing starkly on display.

John's gaze roved over my body, a pleased glint in his eyes. "You fill out the dress nicely, Jeanie, but I think we can do better. Make your breasts larger."

I hesitated, glancing at him with a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "Master..."

"Do it," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. And so, with a heavy heart, I acquiesced. My breasts grew, filling the top of the dress until it was stretched taut against my skin, my cleavage on display.

My discomfort must have been evident in my expression, but instead of feeling any empathy, John merely smirked, enjoying the power he held over me. He relished in my visible discomfort, drinking it in like a man dying of thirst. My previous masters had never treated me this way, and the sudden shift in dynamic was disorienting.

Despite my discomfort, a strange thrill coursed through me. The anticipation of public exposure, ...