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 Welcome to Arena Blaze
 February 06, 2012

Genie Dreams of Me - Part 2		    
Contributed by: choreboy ~ April 27, 2010

Reader FictionIn part one, a modern mistress extracts seven wishes from her ever-loving home genie. With her first, wish, our pampered princess has her palace polished. After a strict inspection, genie is bent over the arm of the couch to receive hard strokes on his bare bottom for every missed spot. Genie’s humiliating punishment concluded with a second wish.


“Second wish, Genie.” I was bent over his back, whispering in his ear, now firmly squeezing his balls. “Make me the best lunch ever made.” I stepped back. “Chop, chop, genie. Beating you makes me hungry.”

“I will be quick, my Merciless Mistress,” he agreed, pulling his pants back up. “Did I ever tell you that your whippings fill me with love for you?” He batted his eyes.

“More like lust,” I sneered, touching his renewed stiffie.

“That, too,” he pouted.

I took my magazine to the patio, where the sun was warm. Indeed, Genie was quick, appearing in a few minutes with a tray, which he set down on a side table. With deft movements, he spread out a placemat, napkin and silverware. He set out a plate with a fresh salad of mixed greens, preserved peppers and onions, toasted walnuts and apple topped with bleu cheese and vinaigrette dressing. Shreds of carrot and fresh yellow pepper made it pretty. He set down a glass of cold Pinot Grigio and another of ice water with lime.

“Bon appetit, oh Shining Star. May I fulfill another wish while you enjoy this meal?”

“Yes, Genie. I wish for a mowed lawn and weeded garden. I’d like to see you sweating while I relax here.”

“With pleasure, my Garden Goddess,” burbled my genie, dashing off to the shed, He disappeared into the dark doorway of the small outbuilding and soon I could hear the clash of large wooden and metal things bashing into one another. Soft curses floated out on the warm air. After a titanic climax of crashing and swearing, the genie emerged, back end first, hauling on an old-fashioned push mower as well as an attached train of tools, lawn toys and bicycle parts.

“Is this task too difficult for you, oh Genie?” I asked him sweetly.

“Never in life, my Solicitous Superior,” he replied hastily. “Just...ah!... a little ....ouch! ....technical ....damn!.....glitch.” He and the mower lurched free of the entangling detritus. Genie turned and gestured. “Piece of cake, my love. I will now fulfill your third wish.”

I enjoyed the many flavors of salad and wine playing in my mouth and the singing of the old push mower’s blades. (I had my Genie get rid of the old gas powered mower because it was bad for the planet - and besides, the noise hurt my ears.)

The sun was warm on my back. My attention drifted between the tummy-tightening exercises in my magazine and the real exercises of my genie. In the pictures, a woman in pink spandex stepped, lifted and stretched without strain in a cool, neutral colored studio. In real life, my genie bent and grunted as he kept his machine whirling over thick grass and bumps in the lawn. Sweat coated his shoulders and chest and rolled down his belly and back. Grass blades stuck to his skin. The sun looked like it was really hot if you weren’t in the shade of an umbrella.

“Watch out for my daffodils!” I shouted. “Damn it, Genie! You’ve mowed the flowers again.

“Sorry, my queen!”

“You’ll be sorrier later. Carry on... but be careful!” I wrote the number 12 in my notebook. “Another glass of wine, Genie.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” In a flash he was back with a fresh, sweating glass of yellow wine.

“Yum. Good service, Genie. Back to work.”

Something occurred to me as I watched him work. “Genie,” I called out. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, please, my Princess.”

“Come here.” I turned from the table and pointed to the ground in front of my feet and Genie trotted over for inspection. “Oo, you are very sweaty, today, aren’t you?” I ran a hand over his slick belly, letting the edge of my hand just barely slip below the waistband of the rather short blue jean cut-offs he’d changed into. His cock leapt up to touch my little finger.

“It’s very hot, and I’m working hard for you, Goddess.”

I pulled the waistband of his shorts away from his tummy. The white tip of his shaft was just visible in the darkness. “Maybe this will cool you off.” I picked up a pitcher of ice water. “Stop fidgeting. Be a man.”

“But I’m a genie!” he protested futilely as I poured a thin stream of clear water into the narrow opening. The little white head quickly withdrew as genie shuddered. Water poured down his legs and puddled at his feet.

“Kneel.” Genie dropped to his knees before me, arms crossed behind his back, legs perfectly aligned, head erect. I picked up an olive from my plate and popped it in his mouth.

He chewed the gift and I picked up a piece of lettuce. He opened his mouth. In a few minutes I hand-fed my genie the substantial remains of my lunch as I sipped the second glass of wine. I held my water to his lips and he gulped down two large glasses. I gave him one sip of my wine.

“Thank you, Goddess.”

“You’re welcome, my magic lackey. But, I have a fourth wish that needs doing right here and now. Can you guess what it is?”

“I believe so, my Randy Reina. I think you hanker for a long, slow licking from my talented tongue.”

“You are clairvoyant, Genie!” I pulled my dress up over my hips and opened my legs. “I wish for the world’s most powerful recorded orgasm.”

He bent forward and kissed the inside of my thighs, first the right, then the left. Gently, he tugged my panties down and off my feet. I felt his cold wet tongue searching for the edges of my sex and opened my legs a little wider. But my genie was sly. He pretended not to notice and continued his lazy licking of peripheral parts. I grabbed his head and shoved it up my crotch. “Don’t be a jerk, Genie!” I scolded.

“Mmmff. Mrfer umph oom,” he replied, redoubling his tongue’s wicked washing of my nether places. I slumped down a bit in my chair to help him do a better job.

For the next little while -- it couldn’t have been a whole hour, could it? -- he continued his ministrations, nibbling, nipping, touching, tasting, lapping, licking, flicking, circling and invading my sex with his face. He used his tongue, his teeth, his lips and his nose to drive me to the edge of orgasm. Then he used every sly trick in the book to keep me just this side of heaven.

It only ended when I clamped my thighs around his neck, clutched the back of his head and mashed his face into my pussy. By now I was slumped so far down in my seat that my neck was bent at an awkward angle. My bottom was off the seat and my whole lower body rested on his shoulders. My sundress was rolled up over my belly in a sweaty clump. The fingers of his right hand were buried in my sex, and his mouth was working my clitoris like crazy. Then, the little finger of his left hand began doing bad things in my butt. I heard myself whinny and groan. My heels drummed on his back as I gave a strangled cry and came crashing waves over his face. He never flagged, body surfing my orgasms three, four and five times.

At last the tsunami subsided. When I could unclamp my thighs from his jaw, he refused, as usual, to leave. He has finally learned not to lick me during this time right after orgasm while I’m still so raw and sensitive. He just kept his open mouth on my sex and hummed deep in his chest. The mere vibrations made me shudder and the tiniest touch of his tongue sent delicious currents through my hips and drew growls from my lips. We stayed that way a while, but finally I let myself fall off of him and wriggled back up in my seat, panting and flushed red, I’m sure.

“I die of thirst, my lady,” Genie croaked. I poured him a glass of water.

“Good job, Genie.” I murmured, still dazed. “That was... intense.” He grinned. He got up and retrieved an upholstered stool. He put my legs up and pulled my dress down. He kissed me on the forehead and pushed me back into my chair.

“You look sleepy, Sweetness.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I answered. “But you must be burning up in there.” I touched the front of his jeans. His rigid penis made a visible ridge through the worn denim.

“The heat inspires me, Goddess,” he replied, stroking my forehead. “Sleep now.”

“OK, honey. Go wash your face.” I let my head fall back and my arms fall by my sides. In a moment I became aware of the shirring sound of the mower and weird monotonous singing of cicadas. My eyes closed.

end of part two




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Read Part I here:
http://www.arenablaze.com/article.php/Genie_Dreams_I
 

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