The Bottle

It was a small bottle, roughly the size, as well as more or less the shape, of a pear. Made of milky white ceramic, it was covered in a beautiful geometric pattern in deep blue. I never tired of looking at it, of turning it over and over in my palm. I liked the weight of it, how it was heavier than a clay bottle really should be. Maybe the weight came from the lead that stoppered it, but I doubted it. The way the weight moved had almost a liquid feel to it.

I'd wanted to open it up and look inside for years, ever since I inherited it from my grandparents along with a bunch of other souvenirs from their youthful travels. There were times when I wished I'd inherited a journel of some kind as well, something to tell me the origins of my various odd treasures. Some were obviously cheap tourist junk, but some, like the bottle, were harder to classify. If I had to guess, based on the type of artwork, I'd say it was of middle eastern origin, and either very old, or, more likely, based on the vivid color, a copy of something very old. Though hardly an expert opinion, it wasn't a shot in the dark, either. I'd been majoring in art history for the past four years, and was about to enter a graduate program.

In honor of my acceptance into the graduate program, I was planning on finally opening the bottle. I'd borrowed oxygen-acetaline torch from a professor who liked to mold lead, as well as a metal bowl, goggles, and heat resistant gloves. If I heated the ceramic slowly, and then allowed it to cool slowly afterwards, it hopefully wouldn't be too damaged.

Half an hour later, I was pouring the lead into the bowl. Then I set the bottle down on a heat pad. Now, if I didn't get too close, I should be able to peer into the bottle and get my first look at what was inside...

I jerked back in shock as I saw the crackling glow inside. The contents of the bottle were on fire! Then the flames began to swirl up and out of the bottle in a strange tornado. I tried to run, but found myself unable to move my feet. I tried to scream, but couldn't seem to find my voice

The column of swirling flame grew and grew, until it was touching the ceiling. Then it fell back in on itself, and, suddenly, there was a man sitting on the counter in my kitchen where the bottle had been. He was tall, and dark skinned, with long dark hair and piercing orange eyes. He wore nothing but loose green shorts, a green vest, and a large amount of jewelry. And I mean a large amount of jewelry. It was mostly in the form of golden rings and earrings, though he did have two thick, golden bracelets covered in intricate carvings I automatically identified as middle eastern, probably arabic, and a golden pectoral that looked very ancient egyptian. Oddly, most of his earring were on one ear, his left, in a great golden arc from his earlobe to his slightly pointed ear tips. His right ear only had one earring, a tiny golden loop with a miniscule blue bead.

"W-Who... What?" I gasped, my voice having returned to me.

"My name is Algave, and I am a djinn," said the man. If man was the right word. "You have freed me from my prison of over a millennium. I thank you for this."

He had a deep, soft voice, very pleasant to listen to. I wasn't sure I liked how he was looking at me, though. "A djinn? Like in One Thousand and One Nights?" I had started reading an english translation of it last night.

"Funny you should mention that particular book," Algave murmured. He gestured, and I flew backwards to slam against the opposite wall. "There is a story in it, I believe, about a djinn in a predicament similar to mine. In the story, he swears that, if someone liberates him in the first hundred years, he will enrich him greatly with gold." I knew this story. I had read it last night. I did not like where this was going.

"No one frees him for a hundred years, so he swears that, if someone were to free him during the second hundred years of his imprisonment, he would heap him with silver." I was trying to sidle slowly away now. Algave must have noticed, because he gestured again, and arms grew out of the walls to grip me.

"Again, no one frees him, so he swears that, if someone lets him out during the third hundred years, he will give them three wishes." I struggled, but was unable to move very much. I couldn't even scream; there was a hand over my mouth. What made me nervous, though, was the way the arm sprouting from the wall between my legs gripped my inner thigh.

"He is not freed in this hundred years. It has been three hundred years by now, so he swears that he will give his liberator nothing but the power to choose the manner of his death."

Algave smiled dangerously. "A millennium ago, I swore a similar oath. I swore that, if a man freed me, I would kill him in the most painful manner I could concoct."

By now I was struggling frantically, and making muffled noises through the hand over my mouth.

"However, if a woman freed me," Algave said, and my heart stopped with sudden hope, "If a woman freed me, I would make her my own." He snapped, and my clothing was suddenly a few feet to the left of where I was standing. It hovered there for an instant, as if I were still inside it, and then crumpled to a heap on the ground. The djinn looked me up and down in a very lascivious manner. "And you," he purred, "You are a better looking woman than I had ever dreamed of."

Personally, I thought I could stand to lose some weight, but I can't argue. My mouth is still covered.

Algave stood, placing the bottle on the counter. The hands holding me have now moved to distinctly suggestive positions, with two gently cupping my breasts, and another gripping my ass. The ones holding my legs have begun to force them apart. Algave stared thoughtfully at my womanhood. "Why on earth is did you shave it?" he muttered. "I mean, I suppose it is convenient for a lover, but it just looks so odd." He snapped his fingers again, and suddenly it was as if I had never picked up a razor. He smiled in satisfaction. "Much better."

Two hands gently pulled apart my labia, and the djinn knelt in front of me. He breathed in deeply, and sighed. "How I have missed that scent. Those pheromones. And when I think of how much better it will smell when I have you aroused..." Delicately, he licked me from clit to asshole. I blushed. I've had a lover go down on me before, once, but he didn't really know what he was doing, and he was really only doing what was expected of him. Algave obviously relished the task, and equally obviously had had some experience performing it. He was also significantly hotter than any human lover. In temperature, I meant, not in looks, though he was hot is that way, too.

His finger slipped into me, and I whimpered. Algave looked up at me. "So very sensitive. How lovely." Then he began to lick more vigorously at my clit. I moaned, eyelids fluttering. I could feel a mixture of my own juices and his saliva running down my inner thighs. I was already close to cumming.

A second finger slipped in between my pussy lips, and began to rub me in just the right way. I'd stopped struggling. There was no use, and any movement would just turn me on that much more. Not that I could avoid cumming for very long, whether I moved or not.

With his right hand, the djinn was unfastening the tiny, hair thin ring on his right ear. The left hand was still finger fucking me, to great effect. I could barely stand the pleasure. In fact, if the wall hadn't been holding me up, I suspected I would barely be able to stand, period. I breathing hard now, huffing air into and out of my nose. I could feel myself reach the point of no return. Cumming was inevitable now. Soon... Now.

I came, screaming into the gagging hand over my mouth, and arching against my bonds. Algave showed no mercy, licking and fingering me harder than before. I came again, and again in a rush. Finally, gasping, I began to come down from the high. The djinn's tongue and fingers withdrew. I looked down just in time to see him place a finger on either side of my clit. I wondered what he was doing, and then felt a sharp, thoroughly confusing pain in my clit as a thin line of light shot from one finger to another, going straight through the nub of flesh. I winced, whimpering. Then I watched helplessly as he threaded the tiny ring from his ear through my newly pierced clit. "MIne," he whispered, giving my pussy another vigorous lick. "All mine." Then he stood and repeated the process with two of the smaller rings from his left ear and my nipples.

Then he snapped his fingers, and the rings began to vibrate. I squeaked, and tried to jerk away. "All mine," the djinn repeated, and laughed. An upwards gesture increased the vibration. I came several times in quick succession. When I came back to myself, Algave had shucked his pants, and was slipping his cock into my pussy. I tried to protest, but he just smiled. "Lets see how many times you cum before I do, shall we?"

I'm not sure what the exact number of times I came as he pounded me mercilessly, but I know it was in the double digits. Every time I thought I was done, that I could not possibly cum any more, he turned up the vibration.

Finally he was satisfied, and, shuddering, shot his hot load deep into my pussy. I was too busy cumming myself, one final time, to worry about that. Then he withdrew, and snapped his fingers. The vibration ceased. I moaned with relief, sagging in the grip of the wall hands. Algave smiled. "How was that? Did you have fun?"

Unable to speak, I just glared at him.

"And, just think, you can look forward to the same thing every night for the rest of your life." The djinn chucked. "And you will have a very long life. I will make sure of it."

He turned to pick up the bottle. "Just to warn you, when I visit you, you will be the only one able to see me, unless I wish otherwise. And I will visit often." He smiled. "Now, I've got to go take care of a few matters. Don't worry, I'll be back." And, with that, he vanished.