Yes, Master

My obsession with Major Anthony Nelson was probably the only thing that kept me going that summer.  I’d scored a supposedly prestigious internship at the State Department—I dreamed of joining the Foreign Service in college—but my only apparent diplomatic function was to make copies and file documents.  That and act as a sort of office decoration, because every time I turned around I caught my fifty-year-old supervisor, Mr. Lemon, staring at my ass.
      A career in the civil service was quickly losing its appeal.
      After the long, sweaty commute home, I was ready for some serious relaxation.  So I got one of my dad’s beers from the fridge, went up to my room, stripped down to my underwear and switched on I Dream of Jeannie reruns until Mom called me downstairs for dinner.  I’d do a little belly dance to the opening credits, then settle back on my bed, the cold beer bottle resting on my chest, to float along with the zany hi-jinks and comic misunderstandings.  After a few swallows of beer, I wasn’t even really paying attention to the story.  I was just giving old Major Nelson the eye and wondering what the hell was wrong with him.  Didn’t he have a dick?  Here he had this beautiful blonde female ready to do whatever he wished, and all he asked her to do was make dinner when he got home from astronaut training.
      By the commercial break, I was still staring at the TV, but I was long lost in my own much hotter show about what those two would really do if Major Nelson had a functioning heterosexual libido.  It was all pretty filthy.  The Master was always in control, of course, and he’d tell her, “No more blinking and nodding, we’re doing this my way.”  Then he’d take scissors and snip holes in her costume to expose her nipples and blonde thatch so he could caress her naughty parts as she served him dinner.

      Next it was off to the bedroom where he’d make her dance and rub her breasts and finger her pussy right in front of him, while he asked her dirty questions—Is this making you wet, Jeannie? Have you been dreaming of fucking me all day when you were cooped up in your little bottle?  And she’d have to say “Yes, Master,” because it was true.  Sometimes he’d even make her masturbate with her bottle before he’d give her what she really wanted—his big, heat-seeking missile thrusting inside her.   Once they were fucking he’d let her use her powers again to do it in all kinds of kinky genie-only positions.  My favorite variation was the “magic carpet” where she’d be impaled on his cock, but levitated with her legs crossed in front of her.  With a blink and a nod, she’d twirl round and round on him like a corkscrew until he shot his wad into her with a deep groan.
      Of course, all the while I was doing everything the Master commanded, too, palming my tits and strumming my clit, then kneeling on my bed, as if I were straddling him, and wiggling my ass like an exotic dancer.  I got so hot imagining his smoldering gaze stroking me like a wet tongue, his soft, but stern voice urging me on to greater depravities, that I came with a muffled groan of my own, just in time for Mom’s dulcet “Dinner’s ready” floating up from the kitchen. 
      Yes, Major Nelson--or rather my Major Nelson, the sexually insatiable dom--sure helped me get through a long, hot summer. 
      It turned out he was a tough act to follow.
      Back at school that fall, I found plenty of guys willing to warm my bed in the usual wham-bam college-boy way, but I still dreamed of the Master.  I even splurged on a Jeannie costume and wore it to a big frat party the Saturday before Halloween.  Every guy I talked to popped a boner at the sight of my veil and pink harem pants—my first taste of genie power.  Only one rubbed my bottle just right, though, a guy named Troy, dressed as Captain Kirk.  He looked me up and down and drawled, “Is it true you genies have to grant your master’s command no matter what he asks?”  
      Unfortunately, once we were up in his room, all he did was shove a beery tongue in my mouth and grope me roughly through the Jeannie bolero.  The magic was definitely gone, so I whisked myself back to my dorm and threw the costume in the back of a drawer. 
      I didn’t put it on again until five years later when I met Tony.
      A Master who finally knew how to do his job right.
      #
      It might look like I fucked Tony Rossi from Product Development on our first date, but it was more complicated than that.  We’d been having lunch together for months and flirted pretty heavily through several happy hours when he finally asked me out on an “official” date to see a play in late October.  We had such a good time we ended the evening naked in his bed—no surprise for two people who’ve been attracted to each other for some time.  Except for one thing. 
      After we were both hot and ready, Tony rolled on top of me, and I thought, okay, I’ll endure this for a while and then show him how I can actually get off.  But as he started moving this way and that, it actually started to feel…good.  Very good.  It’s as if we were having this little conversation with our hips.  He’d ask a question, slowly, teasingly.  I’d reply with all the right answers, and damn if it wasn’t feeling better and better as our lower regions discovered all sorts of things about each other.  Until, surprise of all surprises, I was coming, just from old-fashioned missionary-style fucking alone. 
      I had to see if it was a one-time fluke, so after a reasonable breather, I pulled Tony on top of me again.
      Ten condoms and a half-dozen positions later, it was Sunday afternoon and we still hadn’t gotten out of bed except to make some coffee and pay the pizza delivery guy.  Tony seemed as enchanted as I was.
      Unfortunately, reality intervened and he told me he had an early flight on Monday and would be in Pasadena all week on business.  However he was anxious to know if I was free the following Saturday.
        “Sorry, I’m going to Dana’s Halloween party.  You know Dana in Marketing, right?” Smitten as I was, I had a strict policy not to stiff my women friends for any guy.
      “I was invited, but I was going to blow it off.”  He smiled.  “Do you have your costume yet?”
      “I’m going as Jeannie, you know, from that old TV show.”  I sat up, folded my arms and did my best imitation of a Jeannie nod.  “Yes, Master, you called?”  I gave Tony a look that promised everything.  “Sure you can’t make it?”
      His eyes twinkled.  “I’ll be there.”
      #
      I half-expected he might not show.  Guys claim they want lost weekends of non-stop screwing, but sometimes that kind of hedonistic excess spells good-bye to any kind of relationship.  But he did show up, early, coming up behind me just as I was just finishing cutting up pepper strips for the veggie tray.
      “Jessica—or should I say ‘Jeannie’?” was his greeting.
      I turned around.  My jaw dropped.
      He was wearing an Air Force officer’s blue jacket and cap--over jeans, but who could fault him for that?--and he looked rather frighteningly like my longtime fantasy fuck, Major Anthony Nelson.
      He smiled at my confusion.  “Don’t you like me in uniform?”
      I was still too breathless, not to mention concerned about a big wet spot on the crotch of my harem pants, to reply, so I simply pointed to his nametag, which read “Tony.” 
      “It’s a relic from my days at Annie’s Pancake House back in high school—sorry it’s not regulation Air Force.” 
      “You even have the same name,” I managed to stutter.
      “Oh, I thought that was intentional …but then I always was a self-centered bastard.”
      I blushed.  I always thought of my old crush as “the Master,” not Tony.  I did my best to recover with a sultry, “You know I like it when you talk dirty.”
      His smile widened and he leaned closer.  “By the way, that costume of yours is making me hard.”
      Genie power—at least I still had that card in my pocket.
      Just then Jeremy from Finance walked by, his gaze shifting from me to Tony and back.  He smirked and gave Tony a thumbs-up. Dana rushed over to take the veggie tray from me, but she stopped short and let out a giggle.
      “Hey, you two, cute.  Very cute.”
      I suddenly realized that rather than standing there announcing to the whole company that Tony and I were fucking, I’d rather be back at his place actually doing it.
      He slipped an arm around my waist.  “So how long did you want to hang out here?”
      “I’d be happy to get going any time,” I murmured back.
      We were out of there in the blink of an eye.
      #
      When we were finally alone, my real-life and reportedly sexually aroused Major Nelson gave me my first command.
      “My dishwasher’s broken, so I want you to clean up the dishes in the sink.”
      Again I was speechless.
      “Just do that blinking thing and it won’t take long.  Let me know when you’re done.”  He walked off toward the bedroom.
      I stood in the kitchen, fuming.  There were only a few dishes in the sink—a plate with a pair of chopsticks still oily from Chinese takeout, some glasses and mugs—and yet his cocky move made my stomach tight and fluttery with frustration.  Was he going to torture me by acting out the real show, where Jeannie and the Master had no more physical contact than a rare kiss?
      Still, I dutifully finished my task and crept over to the bedroom door, my heart sinking at the thought I might have a long night of house cleaning ahead.
      Tony was lying on the bed, wearing nothing but the officer’s cap on his head, bathed in the golden glow of his bedside lamp.  The bottom half of him was covered in the sheet, like the drapery on a Roman statue, but it couldn’t hide that telltale bulge at hip level.
      Major Nelson did have a dick after all.
      “All done, Jeannie?  I’m ready for my massage.”  He grinned at me and gestured to the bottle of oil on the nightstand.  “While you’re at it, why don’t you blink and make that top of yours disappear?”
      Jeannie as a topless masseuse?  My nipples immediately stood at attention. I was still mad at him for the dishes, though, so I decided to take a stand.  “You made me promise I wouldn’t use my special powers.”
      Tony laughed.  “Why the fuck would I do something dumb like that?  You’re thinking of that witch show.  I want you to use every drop of magic on me that you’ve got.”
      I had to smile.  But I didn’t follow his command.
      Tony clucked his tongue.  “Take off your top, Jeannie.  The few times I watched your stupid program, I spent the whole time hoping your little shirt would get ripped on a nail or something and I’d get to see your tits naked.  Now that would be worth watching.”
      My eyebrows shot up.  I remembered my own dirty fantasy of the Master carefully snipping away the pointed tips of Jeannie’s bra, then chuckling devilishly.  My breasts suddenly felt warm and heavy, as if they were yearning for air.
      Tony narrowed his eyes ominously.  “Take off that top now.”
      My pussy clenched, a sharp contraction hovering between pleasure and pain.  My cunt at least was fully in his power. 
      “Yes, Master.”  My lips, too, seemed to have a will of their own.  I shrugged off the little vest and unsnapped the blouse.  I stood before him, head bowed, my pale skin flushing under his gaze.
      “Beautiful,” he said softly.  “Now come over here.”
      “Yes, Master.” I sat on the bed beside him, eyes still lowered deferentially.
      “By the way, I like it when you say that.  Say it again.”
      “Yes, Master.”  My voice was faint and breathy, but there was no doubt I liked saying it, too.
      The massage was a more pleasant duty than the dishes.  I enjoyed kneading Tony’s strong shoulders and biceps, gliding my oiled hands over his flesh.  Yet, although he obviously wasn’t following his namesake’s “hands-off” primetime policy, my Master had a different method to keep the sexual tension high.
      While I touched him, he was stroking me, too, brushing my breasts lightly with his finger tips, then pulling away for an endless minute before he was back again with another teasing caress.  To my disappointment, he carefully avoided the nipples, although he knew mine were exquisitely sensitive.  Before long I was trembling with anticipation for the next tiny allotment of stimulation.  When he finally gave my nipples a quick flick, I moaned out loud.
      “What’s this?  Do you like the way I’m touching you, Jeannie?” His tone was clipped, military.
      “Yes, Master.”
      “Is it making you wet?”
      “Yes, Master.”  In fact, my crotched was sopping and I was wondering if the cheap costume could stand a washing when we were done.
      “I want to see for myself.  Put your fingers in your cunt and show me.”
      My cheeks burned as blood rushed to my face.  Guys in my fantasies were always ordering me to touch myself, but I wasn’t sure I could really do it.   Still, he was my Master and I had to do what he commanded. 
      I rose up on my knees and snaked my hand into the harem pants.  My clit was so slippery and swollen, I almost lingered to give it a few wiggles like the old days, but that’s not what the Master wanted.  Obediently I dipped two fingers in my hole then presented my hand to him, palm up.
      He gazed at the glistening fingers thoughtfully, then took them in his mouth and sucked them clean.
      I closed my eyes, swaying.
      “I touch you up here and you get all ready for me down there.  That’s a great trick, Jeannie.”
      “Yes, Master.”
      “It’s obvious you’re ready to be fucked.  Which is a fortunate coincidence, because I’m ready, too.”  Tony pushed down the sheet to reveal his naked cock.  As if by magic, it seemed thicker and redder than I’d ever seen it.  He reached for a condom in the nightstand.
      “I’m feeling lazy tonight, so I’ll just lie back and do nothing while you take care of giving us both a good time.  Girl astride works better for that, don’t you think?”

      I hesitated.  “I might need a little extra attention to be…satisfied.” 
      Tony frowned and adjusted his cap to a jauntier angle.  “You’re supposed to service me, isn’t that how it goes?  The problem is I really like how you get so soft and squishy inside after you come.  So we’ll compromise.  I’ll watch while you get yourself off and then after you’re ‘satisfied,’ you can do me.”
      I flinched.  I pictured myself masturbating in the spotlight of the lamp, Tony’s glittering eyes drinking in the obscene show.  He was waiting, but my hands were frozen at my sides.
      “You look confused, so I’ll spell it out for you.  First, I want you to lose the harem pants.  Then you’re going to sit on my cock and play with yourself until you come.  Got that, Jeannie?”
      “Yes, Master,” I replied, my voice catching in my throat.  With his wishes laid out step by step, what could I do but get naked and lower myself onto him?
      My hands trembling faintly, I cupped my breast and flicked the nipple with my thumb while my other hand dipped between my legs.  My flesh made a soft clicking sound with each stroke of my rock-hard clit.
      “Jesus,” he whispered.  I could swear I felt his cock stiffen and twitch inside me.
      Genie power—even without the costume, I still seemed to have it.
      I began to move my hips, a slow circling belly dance.  Tony was watching me, but I was watching him, too. 
      I gave him a mischievous smile.  “I’m doing everything you commanded, Master, but I’m afraid I’m still being a bad genie.”
      “Why’s that?”  His breath was coming so fast, he seemed to be having trouble speaking.
      “I’m pretending these are your hands rubbing my nipples and strumming my clit.” 
      His fingers twitched.
      I arched back and sighed.  “I really wish you could do it for me, but you’re the Master and you made the rules.”
      “Fuck the rules,” he growled, rearing up and taking my nipple between his lips.  The officer’s cap tumbled to the bed.  A searing jolt of pleasure shot from my breast to my pussy and I cried out.  He grabbed my ass, rubbing it round and round like an Arabian lamp. 
      There were no rules now and I started to ride him in earnest.  Each stroke of his cock drove me higher, up and up.  We still had the magic all right because in the next instant I was lifting straight off the bed, spinning, twirling through space.  Tony came right along on the flying carpet, groaning and shuddering in release.
      When we landed back on the tangled sheets of his bed, we were still floating.
      “So what happens now?” he asked.  “You granted all my wishes.  Do I have to set you free?”
      “I don’t know.  I hope we’re on for a few more episodes…Master.”  I gave him a wink.
      Tony laughed and snuggled against me.  He was hard again. 
      Ah, genie power.  At first, it didn’t work the way I wanted, but eventually I did find a Master who could rub me just the right way.  The Master of my dreams.