How to use your Genie - Sex Stories

How to use your Genie

... exposed form. As much as I tried to shield my emotions, seeing this innocent young girl so vulnerable, knowing what was likely to come next, tore at me. Compounding that was the fact that I would feel everything she felt.

"Emily, lay down," John ordered, his voice cold and demanding. Emily hesitated for a brief moment before doing as instructed, settling herself onto the bench. Her eyes darted around the room, clearly trying to make sense of the situation she found herself in.

"Jeanie," John's voice cut through my thoughts, drawing my attention back to him. "Spreader bar. Now."

Summoning the required instrument with a thought, I approached Emily, our eyes locking. Hers were wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity. I gently secured the bar to her ankles, ensuring it was tight enough to hold but not cause any pain.

"Now, tie her legs back," John instructed further, watching with eager anticipation.

With another thought, I conjured a sturdy rope, looping it around the spreader bar before pulling it back, causing Emily's legs to spread even wider, her most intimate parts now fully exposed to John's view. I secured the other end of the rope to a hook on the bench, ensuring Emily was spread and exposed, but also as comfortable as the circumstances would allow.

Throughout the process, Emily's rapid breathing filled the room. Every slight movement or touch, every rustle of rope or clink of metal, sent mirrored sensations coursing through my body. Her ...

... apprehension, her vulnerability – I felt it all as if it were my own.

John seemed to revel in our combined discomfort, a smirk playing on his lips. "Perfect," he murmured, taking a step closer to inspect his handiwork. I stood back, hands clenched, struggling with the swirling vortex of emotions within me.

A chill ran down my spine at John's command. I looked at Emily, and her gaze locked onto mine, a clear plea in her eyes, silently begging for some form of mercy. But I knew I had no choice.

I materialized a ball gag in my hand. Emily’s eyes darted between the gag and my face, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her breaths. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, even though I wasn't sure if she could hear me or if she'd understand.

As I approached her, I gently cupped her face with my free hand. "Breathe," I said softly, trying to calm her down before I secured the gag behind her head. The moment it was in place, muffled noises replaced her once clear voice, and her eyes now bore a mixture of panic and resignation.

John looked on with satisfaction, circling around the bench like a predator observing his prey. "That's better," he remarked, almost in amusement, "Less noise."

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Even as I was forced to act against my will, I wanted so badly to comfort Emily, to somehow reassure her in this overwhelming situation. The weight of our combined emotions bore down on me. Every whimper she emitted, every pulse of her heart – I felt it echoing ...