How to use your Genie - Sex Stories

How to use your Genie

... mouthful, savoring the flavors and the scene unfolding before me.

Midway through our meal, a wicked idea popped into my head. I beckoned the waitress over. "Miss," I began, smirking, "I'd like a banana, please."

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk forming on her face, having picked up on the possible innuendo. "Of course," she replied, heading towards the kitchen.

Emily shifted in her seat, looking apprehensive. Jeanie simply sipped her coffee, waiting for my next move. The anticipation in the air was palpable. I reveled in the control, my heart pounding with exhilaration. The power dynamics, the public setting, and the uncertainty of what I would do next combined to create a heady mix of tension and excitement.

The waitress returned, a slightly bemused look on her face, and handed me the banana. Its firmness and the way it caught the diner's dim light made Emily's eyes go wide. I turned my attention to Jeanie, smirking. "Here, Jeanie," I said, handing it over. "Where do you think I want this to go?"

Jeanie, bound by her obligations to me and also knowing my predilections all too well, hesitated for just a fraction of a moment. The weight of the situation was clear on her face, yet her duty as my genie left her little choice. With a graceful motion that barely drew any attention, she took the banana and subtly moved it under the table.

I could tell by the slight change in her breathing, the faintest of gasps escaping her lips, that she was doing as ...

... instructed. Emily watched, a mix of shock and intrigue painted on her face, but she couldn't see exactly what was happening beneath the tabletop. The very act of it happening in such a public setting added to the intensity of the moment.

"Keep it there," I instructed Jeanie, my voice low but firm.

She gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, her face flushed. The din of the diner continued around us: the clatter of dishes, the murmur of conversations, the soft hum of an old jukebox playing in the corner. All of this served as a stark contrast to the clandestine act unfolding at our booth.

Emily's gaze darted between Jeanie and me. I could sense her inner turmoil, the way she wrestled with the emotions of desire, embarrassment, and fascination. Our little escapade in the diner was pushing boundaries, blurring the lines between the private and public spheres, between consent and command, all under the gaze of unsuspecting patrons.

For me, it wasn't just about the act itself but the power dynamics at play. The knowledge that I could make Jeanie and Emily do almost anything, anywhere, was intoxicating. It was a heady blend of control and exhibitionism.

Seeing that Emily was left out of the shared experience was a point of dissatisfaction for me. I thrived on having control and ensuring that every whim, every desire, was attended to. "Jeanie," I began, my voice dripping with irritation, "why isn't Emily feeling what you feel?"

Jeanie looked slightly apprehensive as she ...