The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The sound of a doorbell suddenly filled the cluttered studio apartment, pulling Antonio Narvaez’s attention away from the amateur porn pictures that he’d been examining on his desktop computer for the last half hour—a break from work that had somewhat gotten away from him.

With a grunt, he lifted himself from his computer chair, and navigated himself through to the front door. He wasn’t eager for social interaction, but he knew just what to expect; not an inquisitive neighbor or surprise visit from a friend, but an Ebay package and the distant back of the deliveryperson, briskly returning to their car. You didn’t have to sign for packages like this. Not at the price that Antonio picked them up.

Hauling the box inside with some effort, Antonio tried to remember what he’d ordered that was this fucking heavy. Grabbing a boxcutter from the top of a precarious pile of old mail on the coffee table, he soon had an answer. Right. Bunch of old metalware. He rooted around in the box, throwing aside some worthless old tin cups. His business model on was to buy combined lots of old stuff that the owners hadn’t properly identified, either on Ebay or at local garage sales and such, then resell the stuff that was worth anything. It took a keen sense of value, and kitchenware was not his strongest area. He did better with books and retro toys. But he’d had a feeling about this listing, so he’d snatched it even though the shipping had cost more than what he’d bid.

Setting aside a few pieces of flatware that might be sterling silver (he wasn’t one hundred percent sure how to check that), Antonio honed in on a weirder, darker shape nestled in the air pillows. He pulled it out. It was undeniably an old oil lamp, the kind that looked like you should pour tea from it.

This was it. This had to be worth way more than the pittance that the lot had cost him. He turned it all around, but didn’t see any kind of brand name stamp or label on it, which was annoying from an appraisal standpoint but probably boded well for its antiquity.

Next thing was to check the material. If this was tarnished brass, it should clean up nicely. He licked his thumb and started rubbing away at a spot on the side...

Immediately, black smoke began pouring out of the spout, filling the crowded room. Antonio dropped it, leaped to his feet, and backed away, coughing and covering his eyes instinctively, though he soon noticed that the stuff wasn’t actually irritating his eyes or throat.

Indeed, it was pulling away from him, gathering in the center of the room in a whirlwind that grew faster and tighter until it vanished in a burst of light, revealing a woman—slim, dark-skinned, with even darker long black hair pulled into a high ponytail. Crisp, gold-trimmed blue panties and girdle clung to her pert chest and rear, obscured only sightly by a gauzy blouse and equally transparent, airy trousers.

She was also, Antonio became aware, floating about two feet above the air. The top of her ponytail almost scraped the ceiling.

“Mortal,” she intoned in a commanding tenor, “rejoice, for you are in the presence of al-Zuhara of the Evening Star, jinniyya serving the Divine Will. I was sealed in this lamp for failing to submit to the will of the Lord, but on this day, I walk the Earth once more!”

Antonio was backed up against the wall, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, trapped in a frozen state between fight and flight.

al-Zuhara smirked. Humans might have been granted lordship over the Earth, and far be it from her to quibble with the Almighty’s plans... any more. But on a personal level, it certainly was satisfying to intimidate the little schmucks.

Then she noticed that the man’s gaze had drifted down to her high, shapely bosom, visible through the gauze of her blouse. She rolled her eyes. Time to move things along.

The jinn drifted down into a chair, until she noticed that it was covered with metal cups for some reason. Conjuring a much finer teak seat, she settled on that instead, crossing her legs primly. “You are granted my service in accomplishing three tasks, by the grace of...”

“Wishes!” Antonio blurted out.

al-Zuhara frowned. “Pardon?”

“You’re going to grant me wishes!”

“I will attempt to carry out your wishes, yes. But do not think of them as all-powerful. There are limitations to the powers I may invoke on your behalf.”

“I get three wishes, I can’t wish for more wishes, I can’t make people fall in love, and you can’t bring people back from the dead! You’re a pop culture genie!“

The awe and terror that a being of the smokeless fire should rightfully evoke in mortals seemed to be fading swiftly. He was grinning at her in a most unnerving way—almost manic. Certainly not respectful. She hoped this one made up his mind quickly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” al-Zuhara snapped. Then she tried to compose herself. There was such a thing as professionalism. “It is true, the high magics may only be invoked on your behalf three times, and Heaven will not grant you any further boons for any reason. Furthermore, to affect a person’s divine soul is beyond my limits—I can change neither their thoughts, nor the feelings that lie within their breast.” She regretted her choice of words, as the man’s eyes dropped again, except this time he was still grinning—almost leering, really. Men were the same in every age.

“Finally, no power that I possess can deny the ultimate fate of mankind; when the soul passes beyond this world, it is beyond the reach of any save the Word, and none may escape the...” she trailed off in the face of the man’s smug smiling and nodding. This was not how this conversation usually went.

“I bet you’re not even a real genie!” Antonio exclaimed abruptly. “A real genie would have no trouble bringing me enough money to make me comfortable for the rest of my life.”

“That would be no difficulty,” she replied smoothly, rising to her feet and raising a hand. “Do you wish that to be my first service?”

Antonio paused.

“Uh. No.” he replied, at length. “I was sort of hoping you would do that for free just to prove me wrong.”

“Ridiculous,” al-Zuhara dismissed, annoyed that her first task wasn’t going to be finished that quickly. “Quite impossible. Such a thing could only be done as one of my three services to you.”

“What do you mean? Couldn’t you just... summon some like you did that chair?” he asked, looking slightly thrown again.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Summoning that chair was...” al-Zuhara gesticulated in annoyance at not being able to find the right words. “A trifle. A minor bit of stagecraft that does not disrupt the music of the spheres. To grant you wealth would be to change the skein of your fate, and that is beyond mere cantrips.”

Antonio processed this. “So you can only do magic stuff that doesn’t really affect my life.”

“If I choose. Illusions. Minor transformations.”

“Could you give me a blowjob? Does that change my fate or whatever?”

al-Zuhara narrowed her eyes. “That is not even magic. But I would never choose to,” she continued, burying her anger that this insolent fucker of a master. Then she smirked challengingly, meeting his eyes. “But if you wish it to be so, I will make this night the greatest of your life, such that all women will pale in comparison.”

“That kinda sounds like a bad thing.”

“And yet I have had masters in the past who have asked that of me, and they expressed no regrets.” She leaned towards him seductively, staring intently.

Antonio hesitated and licked his lips, eyes flicking between her curves and sultry eyes.

“Could you even change what you look like and stuff?” he asked.

“Of course.” The genie snapped her fingers, and her features began to morph and flow, her hair changing color and length, her skin lightening then darkening further, her face taking on whole range of humanity, her body widening and narrowing, breasts swelling and subsiding. She allowed her features to settle for a moment on many different forms for a moment apiece, every one an alluring specimen of womanhood, before returning to her original form.

Antonio stared, riveted, throughout the process. “And that... wouldn’t take extra wishes?”

“It is a mere trifle. Do you wish, then, to lie with me?”

al-Zuhara knew she almost had him. Such a service was a painless way to work off a wish... sometimes more than one. And she could use a little pleasure herself on her newly incarnated physical body, assuming this pasty chump knew how to pleasure a woman in the first place.

But just when she thought he was on the verge of accepting, Antonio closed his eyes, as if trying to physically break the connection between them.

“No,” he said. “That’s dumb. I can do way better.”

“I think you will find that you can do no better than myself,” al-Zuhara persisted confidently.

“No,” Antonio repeated. He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “I wish you would follow my instructions at all times.”

al-Zuhara hesitated. “I told you, no such trickery will enable me to grant you more than three three... wishes. The heavens will not allow it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Antonio replied, staring at her intently. “That’s still what I want.”

“I...” But there were no more words, at least mortal ones, to be said, in the face of his direct request. Instead, the language of the divine spilled from her lips, reordering the universe to accommodate his mortal’s wish. Blinding light slowly filled the room, seeming to warp and distort the shadows strangely as it grew...

Then finally reality snapped back to normal, with no visible effect. But al-Zuhara knew the world to be different.

“Fucking awesome,” said Antonio, in satisfaction. “Now, never try to hurt me physically or otherwise, and never knowingly go against the spirit of my orders.”

“I... will not,” she replied awkwardly, and she knew the words to be true even as they forced themselves from her lips.

“And give me that blowjob.”

She sank slowly to her knees as he sat down in the fine chair, which she had summoned in what suddenly seemed like in another lifetime. The man before her awkwardly stripped off his pants and underwear, revealing a slightly flabby but youthful body and a rapidly-hardening cock that al-Zuhara had plenty of time to contemplate as she leaned her head gradually closer to his crotch. Inside, she was fighting this, although she also knew to her innermost core that she could not. Her slowness gave her plenty of time to breathe in his pungent, unwashed musk, however.

Then she slowly reached out the tip of her tongue to play around the edge of his glans, as if speculatively. She felt her mouth watering as it prepared for something to enter, even as her eyes filled with tears at the outrage and shame of this... this...

Already rock-hard, Antonio could apparently stand the anticipation no longer, and reached behind her head, slamming it down deep onto his cock. Even through the sudden shock, al-Zuhara tried desperately to open her mouth and throat wide, curling her lips around her teeth so that they would not scrape her rapist’s manhood. That, she knew, would cause him physical pain.

“Oh, fuck, yessssss,” he moaned in satisfaction as he spasmodically pushed and pulled at her head. Even when his hands fell slack, she kept bobbing on him, tongue swirling and mouth pursed around him. He’d told her to give him a blowjob, after all.

It took very little time before he spasmed and came, gasping out “swallow it all,” which al-Zuhara did. She kept her mouth firmly wrapped around him even as his member gradually became flaccid, just to make sure she got the last spurts and drips. He’d told her to swallow it all.

“Fuck,” Antonio repeated. “That was good. There was no way I could think clearly with you cockteasing me the whole time, you slut.”

Confident that his bitter cum was all safely in her stomach, al-Zuhara pulled herself off of the man, coughing.

“You... asshole,” she spat, the unfamiliarly crude word coming out with difficulty. “You could have had me willingly share your bed as your lover, an honor few mortals have ever gained. But now I will harbor nothing but disgust for you until the end of all days.”

Antonio laughed. “You wanted me to use a reality-warping wish just to let me sleep with you, and you call that being a willing lover? Whatever. Besides, who needs you to like me? Check this out: beg me to fuck you, and act like you mean it. But don’t touch me.”

al-Zuhara took a deep breath, then locked eyes with him, trying to dredge up a feeling of lust that she couldn’t imagine having for this cretin.

“My love, please, I yearn for your touch. I burn for it.” She dropped one hand inside her billowy pants to caress to her perfect clit, bringing the other up to brush her tit. “Please, spread me open and honor me with thy throbbing manhood!”

“You’re a real shitty actor, whore.”

al-Zuhara froze, dropped her smile, and glared at the horrible goon.

“But I didn’t say to stop.”

She forced a fake-looking seductive smile back on her face, while her eyes still smoldered. “My love, my dearest, take me, do not forsake me! I desire nothing more than to bring you to the heights of pleasure!” Back on the floor, she crawled forward toward him as she pleaded, moving suggestively back towards his crotch while being certain not to actually touch it.

Antonio casually shoved her back with his foot, hard, like she was nothing more than a begging dog.

“I don’t know if I’m into this whole ‘super in love with me’ angle. How about if you just act like a dumb, horny cumdump?”

Again, al-Zuhara paused, thoughts and emotions whirling within her head. She was in shock; she could hardly believe the situation she was in, she was full of rage, hatred, and fear, and she had hardly gotten her bearings on one of the man’s debased commands before he issued another contradictory one. And yet, he had given her an instruction, and she had to follow it.

“Oh god, oh... fuck,” she managed to get out, returning a hand to her nethers and another to her chest and groping both furiously. “Fuck me, fuck me, please! I need your cock so badly I can’t stand it! Stick it up my sopping cunt, I need to take your hot seed!” It was the best she could come up with, under the circumstances.

“You know,” Antonio commented, “You could look a little sluttier, too. You said you can do magic like that without wishes. So make your body more like, you know, what you imagine a pathetic dumb cumdump slut should look like. But still super hot.”

Where would this end? Following the spirit of Antonio’s request, as she needed to do, al-Zuhara tried to guess what the neanderthal was looking for. She made her lips fuller, and opened them slightly, as if they were ready to wrap around a cock at a moment’s notice. She widened her hips and grew out her chest while keeping her belly taut and smooth, resulting her an hourglass figure that screamed sex and nothing else. Not really knowing what he was looking for on the clothing front, she merely shrank down her current top and bottom so that they clung obscenely against her pink pussy and huge chocolate tits.

In her mind, the effect was cartoonish—grotesque. But the man Antonio eyed her up and down, grinning, and said “Good.”

al-Zuhara seethed. If she could have immolated him with the hatred in her soul... which in a better time, she could have... he would have been disintegrated down to the molecular level.

“Now keep begging, and convince me to use you. Imagine I’m a misogynistic sadist.”

That, at least, was not a leap of imagination. “Please screw me, master! I’m such a worthless cunt, I need you to push me down and fuck me painfully! Whip my whorish tits or ass as you like, for I am just a dumb cow for you to use for your pleasure!”

“Third-person only. Call yourself more insulting names. And keep getting yourself off, but don’t cum.”

“This pathetic cock socket needs to be beaten and raped! Please kick this fuckhole in its filthy cunt until it cries, then bend it over and plow it in its ass!”

She was now masturbating furiously, the fingers of her right hand stimulating her clit with the decisive confidence that came with thousands of years of practice. To her incredible shame, the stimulation was having an effect—her vagina was moistening rapidly, and her whole body was starting to feel alert, almost feverish. She blamed the recentness of her incarnation—her body was still new, full of health and energy, eager to start experiencing life. But not like this. She didn’t want this.

“Apologize to me for being a cocktease.”

“Master, I’m so sorry for teasing you and not giving you my body willingly! I flaunt myself in front of men deliberately, but I am but a vessel made to be raped, who should be left on the street to be taken by any passing man!”

“I didn’t tell you to start using ‘I’ again, you piece of shit,” Antonio said, disgusted. He pushed her down to the floor on her back, pulled her arm away from her pussy, and casually lined up his once-again erect cock with her sopping cunt. He took a moment to rip away her bottom garments with a sharp yank. “You’ve got to work on your dirty talk.”

“Yes, master,” she replied automatically, her mind whirling. She was still catching up to the sensations she was feeling in her curvy, oversexed body—the sudden interruption of her masturbation had left a decided ache in her twat, highlighted even more by the way he was roughly handling her.

Then suddenly he was pulling her legs apart, and slamming his cock deep inside her. It was almost a relief, feeling her body wrap around something hard and warm, but it was only half of what she needed—she automatically reached for her clit again. Noticing, Antonio laughed, slapped her hand away again with a terse “stop it,” then slapped her face and rapidly-wobbling teats for good measure, each blow sharper than the last. Then he leaned over and got to work fucking her.

Any chance of reaching a climax herself had disappeared. al-Zuhara was left with nothing to focus on but the atavistic visage and musty scent of the panting man who was now on top of her, pressing against her oversized tits, pushing her to the hard ground. He caught her eye. Something about her own expression must have inspired him, because he soon grunted out a “fuck yeah” and came.

A moment later, he unceremoniously pulled out of her and stood, gesturing to his dripping, still-half erect cock. “Great. Now clean me up. With your tongue.”

Her pussy ached in more ways than one, but she pulled herself back to her knees and opened her mouth again.

For the next two weeks, Antonio vented his every creative debasement on al-Zuhara. At his instruction, she begged to be fucked up the ass, or pretended to struggle (completely ineffectually) as he held her down and raped her cunt. She transformed herself into a variety of offensive fetishistic stereotypes: a big-titted businesswoman; a giggling idiot blonde slut; a submissive harem girl (in an even more revealing version of her own preferred outfit); a demure, glasses-clad bookish girl with a borderline obscene bubble butt that he slapped and whipped until he couldn’t help pushing her to the floor and fucking her from behind. In each case, she had to play out the role, even though Antonio constantly insulted her forced acting, and never even attempted to adjust his own demeanor as he splayed his cum in her pussy, mouth, ass, or over her face and chest.

One small mercy was his refractory period: he simply couldn’t maintain an interest in sexual activity all the time. But even then, she rarely rested; he gave her domestic duties, forced her in humiliating positions (she’d been on all fours as a footrest more than once), or found other ways to exploit his unfortunate sex slave.

Once, he made her suck his penis for hours, even after his orgasm. She’d had to keep her nose pressed up against his crotch, suckling at and swirling his flaccid cock, while he leaned back and watched moving pictures, ate lunch, and sat at his computer doing whatever one did with those devices.

When he’d announced that he needed to piss but made no move to stand, her eyes had widened with horror, and she’d been unable to stop herself from making a sound of disgust from her position between his legs. He’d just grinned, told her to swallow it all, reached down and gripped her hair with one hand while he mauled her tits with the other, and then let a stream of piss straight into the back of her mouth. She’d frantically swallowed every bitter drop. Even being humbled before the Almighty had not brought her such sheer hatred and humiliation. The Almighty, at least, had class.

Even worse were the times when Antonio switched his style of degradation, and instructed her to act like his lover again. Under his direction, she learned to snuggle up against him, nuzzle his ear, and giggle coquettishly both at his crude jokes and equally-crude groping at her body. That was almost more than she could bear, but her compulsion to obey his commands was backed up by the very fabric of reality itself, as irresistible as the passage of time.

And she bided that time. She was patient. She was required to give him three wishes; and once he used his third wish, the terms of her imprisonment would, ironically, free her from him. She would be returned to the lamp, itself to hide itself away elsewhere in the world, and any other bonds of servitude would be severed. And then... she had any number of plans for revenge fermenting in the back of her mind, each sweeter than the last. She would track down his soul in the Blazing Fire fifty thousand years from now, if necessary.

So she waited.

Two weeks after she’d appeared, Antonio was leaning back on his small couch playing an electronic game, crotch thrust forward to the edge as al-Zuhara leaned over it, massaging his cock at length by squeezing it between her swinging, oiled, magically-enlarged udders. He’d instructed her to only refer to them in her head as udders, not as br... any other word for t... udders.

At this point, her stoicism reached its limit. She could stand the wait no longer. Breaking her grim silence, she spoke up. “Master, have you considered your second...”

“Shut up, I’m concentrating,” he interrupted. His eyes momentarily flicked down to her ridiculous whorish titjob. “Pretend you’re enjoying this, but don’t use any words.”

She started to moan in pleasure, which as it turned out didn’t do any favors for his concentration, though he didn’t complain. Later, seemingly on a whim, Anonio reversed his instructions, telling her to mash her tits around him so much that it hurt herself, and to make noises appropriately. Her cries of pain as she violently abused her own... udders put him over the edge and caused him to spurt all over her face.

After he’d had a drink (and she’d seductively scooped his sperm into her mouth as instructed, wincing at the pain in her... udders), he finally let her speak.

“Master,” she forced herself to say respectfully, “have you given thought yet to the second task I must perform for you?”

“Nah,” he replied dismissively.

“But what of your living circumstances?” she pressed on. “You asked for wealth when first we met. Surely you deserve a higher station in life than... this.”

Antonio cast his eye around the room—tidier than it had been, given that he now had a live-in maid, but still piled high with assorted crap that he hadn’t gotten around to listing on Ebay. “Yeah... I guess I’ve been really falling behind on work, too. And rent is gonna be due soon...”

Inwardly, al-Zuhara congratulated herself. Next would be a wish for money or power, or some combination of the two... and those inevitably brought trouble of a thousand kinds to those who were not groomed to it. Trouble that only magic could relieve.

But Antonio only looked thoughtful.

“So you can’t just, like, summon me some?”

“I cannot,” al-Zuhara explained sincerely, and not without a touch of satisfaction. “I explained this before. If I conjured enough money to affect the course of your life... well, it would not do. Fate itself would strike back against you. To change your fate requires you to invoke my full powers. A wish.”

She waited patiently as Antonio thought this through.

“Or just, like, not magic. That can change my fate too, right?“

“What?” al-Zuhara snapped. What was this fool going on about?

“If I just, like, got a job and made money that way, there’d be no problem. You know, in theory.” He turned and looked her full in the eyes. She didn’t like the glint of cunning she saw in them.

“Yes, of course.” al-Zuhara suddenly felt unaccountably uncomfortable. Her... udders still ached. She shifted uneasily on the floor where she was kneeling. But no. Eyes on the prize. She met his gaze again, confidently. “But you have the power to live like a king, with every luxury imaginable. Why should you have to live off the sweat of your brow like a peasant?”

Antonio grinned at her. “I’m not the one who’s going to be sweating, sweet-tits. It’s been awesome playing with you, but you clearly need more to do. And I’d be a real selfish jerk to keep a piece of fuckmeat like you all to myself.“

The absolute worm! Following his train of thought, the lips of her mortal shell seemed to turn dry. “Am I to...” she swallowed. “become a prostitute, then?”

Anonio seemed to pause. “What? Hadn’t thought of that.” He furrowed his brow while al-Zuhara screamed inwardly at her own idiocy at bringing up the idea.

“No,” he concluded. “Sounds like a good way to get in trouble with the law, or pimps, or, I don’t know.” He flashed her a lecherous smile. “I should definitely invite some friends over, though. I can think of all kinds of ways you could liven up a party.”

No doubt. Assuming the man had any friends, a idea for which she had seen little evidence. Leaving the jinn to contemplate this, Antonio grabbed his computer and started busying himself with it, muttering to things to himself—“been a while since I signed in,” “yeah, that’s a good one,” and such.

Soon he presented al-Zuhara with a video of some degenerate human slag, with pale skin, overdone lipstick, and tattoos running down her arms, splayed out on a bed casually playing with her pussy while passionately deep-throating a dildo.

“That’s live,” he explained. “Happening right now. You’ve got to pay just to watch this at all, and then pay extra to have her do what you want and shit. See over here? Guys who are watching are typing stuff. Making her act like a total trashy slut for cash.”

“She must follow their instructions?” al-Zuhara asked blankly, feeling a sudden womanly kinship for this debased mortal wench.

“Well, they’ve pretty much all got stuff they refuse to do.” Antonio conceded. He leered at her with deep satisfaction. “But you’re not gonna have that problem. I’ll bet we can make you a big hit. Or a few big hits! You can change your form, so we can make you as many personas as we want. I’m thinking we start with some barely-legal teen slut and a big-titted Middle-Eastern reluctant whore.” He laughed. “That one should be easy for you to get into character for.”

“But... what... what about your second wish?” al-Zuhara demanded, desperately. “Haven’t you thought about it at all?”

Antonio shrugged. “Not really. Been pretty busy.” He reached down and pulled at her clit painfully. al-Zuhara tried to stifle her cry to deny him the satisfaction, but wasn’t completely successful. Antonio patted her affectionately on the cheek. “Tell you what. While I look into how to set you up in your new job, you think of what a good second wish for me would be. You can let me know later.”

Antonio turned his attentions back to the computer, and al-Zuhara sullenly sank back against a large pile of collapsed shipping boxes. The last thing she wanted to do was help please her tormentor, but she had to obey his instruction, so she compiled a mental list of carefully-worded wishes for wealth, success, health, and happiness for the wretched thing.

Eventually she hit an impasse, but Antonio had implied that she not interrupt him, so she waited patiently. She felt calmer. At least Antonio was proceeding with his wishes. Setting him up with a happy-ever-after life was almost too bitter to bear, but at least it brought her closer to the end of her service.

Antonio rotated the computer to face her, sliding his chair out of the way. “I think I’m figuring things out. Let’s test the camera. Say ‘hi,’ whore.”

“Hello,” she responded curtly.

“How about you start frigging yourself there? Reach down and get to work on your clit. Really try to get yourself off.”

Immediately, al-Zuhara reached down and started deftly rubbing her intimate parts. It was an incredible relief, after the days and days of neglect and abuse they’d suffered since her first summoning, and her body still seemed more than ready to receive pleasure. Waves of good feeling radiated out through her temporarily mortal flesh. She leaned further back on the floor, raising her other hand unbidden to pull at the rapidly-hardening nipple capping her heavy, full bre... udders. For heaven’s sake, had he still not rescinded that instruction?

Would he ever?

Antonio adjusted something on the computer, and nodded in satisfaction. “Seems to work okay, and you’re certainly looking like one slutty little cockhole. You’re gonna need to be able to chat on camera while you’re fucking yourself, so let’s practice that. What’d you think up for my next wish?”

al-Zuhara felt an orgasm growing more distant as her attention was pulled away from her pussy, but she had to respond. “Master, I thought of several ideas, but you must give me more guidance. What is it that you want from life?”

“Huh. Yeah.” Antonio stared at the furiously-masturbating genie jiggling on the floor of his cheap, cluttered apartment. He could feel her hatred toward him and shame at displaying herself, fighting with her undeniable lust and need to obey. It was glorious.

Half-formed thoughts flashed through his mind... of being a well-respected world figure, of relaxing on a picturesque beach for the rest of his life, of kissing some sweet, loving wife while happy children ran underfoot... but going with his gut on this wish thing seemed to have worked out so far. And if he had to ask himself what he REALLY wanted... right here, right now...

“What wish of mine would you most hate?“

al-Zuhara froze involuntarily for a moment before resuming her self-ministrations. Her mind felt like it was on fire, matching the heat in her womanly body. But she knew exactly what the answer was.

“My... freedom from the lamp,” she panted. “If I remain... a bound jinn... then my service to the lamp will override all other obligations when your wishes are over. But if I... am freed from it... I will serve only you. For as long as you live. And perhaps... even beyond.”

Antonio smiled, but all he said was, “make yourself come.”

She did.