Fuck The Djinn

A powerful wave rode over her body as she stood there. She watched with true intent all those that sat before her. They listened, breathless while she told of all that had happened to her, some wondering if it was pure fantasy, others knowing.

Her skin was tantalizingly dark, her eyes seemed to burn with some fire that begged you, look. Her voice, a breathy, husky, dreamy thing lulled you into a sense of security while her words filled you with awe and wonder.

"I remember, I had just turned 19. There was something going on in my life, some little bit of turmoil. My brother had just announced he was gay. My mother and father took it hard, my brother was only 17 and it seemed to take all their time and effort to deal with it. I was sort of forgotten about, but, I can only assume, not for long."

She took on a bit of a distant look, her eyes moving heavenward as if to taste the memory of what she was relating.

"I was taken from my home, kidnapped. I don't really remember how it happened or who it was, all I remember them talking about me. At first I was afraid I would be raped, or worse, killed. I listened, the tears availing me naught, I listened. They talked about the price I'd fetch. One argued, not as much as a blonde girl, or a girl with blue or green eyes. Another argued that just the beauty of me was going to drive the price higher. I never thought myself beautiful, never thought myself anything but a girl.

The first time they removed that bag from my head, the sun felt as if it was burning out my eyes. I didn't know how long it had been, but I feared it had been quite a while. My stomach had gone past the point of hurting, it didn't grumble anymore, instead it was a tight little knot in the center of my body. I was thrown to the floor before some men, one of the men, bent down and turned my face up. He smiled a big bright smile. He stood me up and ripped away my clothes. I stood in my panties only and he reached between my legs and ripped them from me also.

His hand returned to that place between my legs and he inserted a finger there. I couldn't hold it any more. I pissed on his hand. He kept his hand there, his finger inserted while the golden fluid flowed around it. He watched it for the length of it's duration and only then pulled it away. Again he smiled that bright smile, licked the wetness from his fingers and turned to my kidnappers. He nodded his head, he was agreeing to the price. He put his hand in my hair and whispered just these words… "You are in for an adventure!".

In this mans care, I was made comfortable, I was fed and given clean clothes, or rather given, covering. My body was still very much on display for whatever eyes were to look. I was told I was a slave, to be used as he saw fit, always. There were no manacles, no sort of restraints whatsoever, only the truth. If I tried to leave his "patronage" I would die.

Fear took me as I realized the reality of this. I wasn't going home again, ever.

It took some time for me to grow accustomed to my new surroundings. I had a lot to learn. He took special interest in my training. They tested my limits for pain, they inserted things into my ass to make it more accommodating for my new Master. He personally used me on a few of these occasions, testing the warmth, the feeling. He would watch as they whipped me for my little inconsistencies, always with a rapt look upon his face. He would listen to me cry and moan, and as they tended to my wounds afterward, he would make me talk to him, reveling in the pained sound of my voice. It would make him hard to hear it."

As she spoke, those present were starting to fondle themselves. Men were starting to move closer to the women, and one would start to fondle the other. She herself was letting her wrap fall away, showing the hardened nipples with certain turns and a little of her pubic hair with others.

"So that became my duty. I would suffer the lash for his pleasure, in his chamber. They would chain my hands above my head and bind my feet. They would stretch me up and reveal my naked back, and one of the others would beat me. After the beating was over, he would lie down on the bed with his cock hard, jutting up from his body like this fleshy spike. I would impale myself on him, letting my pussy wrap itself around him while I used the muscles there the way I had been taught to. I wasn't to move my body, his hands were wrapped around my back and would seek out and find the fresh wounds. He would find a good position for his hands and simply hold them there.

I was then to tell him a story, any story, and when he felt the story needed some emphasis, he would squeeze and I would hurt and he would grow harder still inside of me. When he was about to cum, he would move his hands from my back to his face, where he could see the blood from the cuts on my back. He would look at his hands, and tell me that he loved me while he slipped his fingers into his mouth and tasted me from them. And he would cum, his whole body one big tense muscle, veins rising in his head, his face becoming a mask of red pain, he would cum and I would drip for hours.

I accepted my role, I wanted to live, but the truth of the matter was, I wanted this. Who knows, maybe I was brainwashed, maybe I was hypnotized, maybe I just wanted to be shown I was loved and this was the closest approximation to it that I had ever found. Whatever the reasons, I grew to more than accept it, I grew to love it. I became one of the favored, and then the favored. My Master soon started to throw little parties where I was bound before a group of Masters and Mistresses with their slaves, beaten and then made to tell them stories. These times I was given specific stories to tell, something someone else wrote that was made with the express purpose of pleasing the ears of those listening. It amazed me to see the love lavished on the Masters and Mistresses by the slaves while listening to my stories, or to my voice telling these stories. Insolent slaves were soon kissing the feet of their Masters, cowed and downtrodden were suddenly strong in their convictions about the place that they were afforded. Cocks were sucked while my voice played in their heads, pussies licked and nipples pinched as I went on. I felt like a Goddess.

My Master soon realized what this whole thing was doing to me. He realized I was not going to be content in this place. We spent a night together, he and I, he took me aside and told me he knew what I was feeling, what I was thinking. He had empowered me with this thing he had done. He had made me his, used me for his pleasure and now for others pleasure as well, and it had given me power in this. One night, he said, this one night, I will make love to you without the beating. Tonight, tell me a story, a bedtime story and let me hear you. So I told him a story about a lamp, and about wishes, and I mentioned the inhabitant of the lamp and before I could finish, he yelled, Fuck the Djinn, and he took me, like a man takes a woman, we fucked like two people in love, two people hungry.

I fell asleep in his arms with his whispered "I love you" still fresh in my ear. I awoke in a glade, near a road. I was dressed and again hungry like I had slept for days. There was a sign on the road, the sign announced I was back home, back where I was taken from I don't know how long ago. So I did the only sensible thing that I could, I hitchhiked in the opposite direction, hoping that somehow I could return to him. Hoping beyond hope that I could find him again and love him still.

I go places and I tell stories and I hope he hears about them, and I hope he's happy and I hope that one day he'll show up and reclaim me. Until then, I'm yours, I'm all of yours."

And with that, she dropped her wrap, and moved slowly into the crowd of now masturbating and fucking people, and she let herself be taken in every way and we dined on her flesh, knowing this would be the one and the only time we would hear her, or see her or be able to know her...