Maybe I could get an anniversary spanking. Five spanks for every year of marriage? Well, that would be a nice start.
I leapt onto the bed as I heard Aseem’s footfalls on the stairs. I attempted to arrange my limbs seductively in the moments before he entered the room. I wasn’t sure I managed it but Aseem moaned appreciatively anyway.
“I swear I have the most beautiful wife in all the world,” he said, walking over to me on the bed. “I really am the luckiest man alive.”
“And I the luckiest woman,” I replied. “Now where’s my present?”
“Patience, janemaan, I’m getting to that.”
He placed a wrapped box before me. I grabbed and ripped off the paper and opened the plain cardboard box it contained. Inside were toys, adult toys.
“Oh, my.” I gasped. “Are you going to use these on me?”
“Yes.” He nodded and took the red velvet cuffs and wrapped one around my wrist. He pulled the Velcro tight and fed the connecting thread around the middle bar of the headboard before trapping my other wrist in it. I lay on my stomach with my hands tied in front of me. I felt the satin ride up over my buttocks to reveal my bottom half to my husband’s gaze.
“Did you see this?” he asked and passed a long red ostrich feather beneath my nose. “I’m going to have fun with this.”
He gently passed it over my cheek and I pulled my breath in sharply at the delicate tickle that followed in its wake. He continued to tease it over my flesh. Down my shoulders, over my back and down each leg. He spent torturous minutes waving it over the pads of my feet. I laughed, kicked and wiggled to get away from the teasing tickling stick.
“Stop, please, mercy,” I gasped, desperate to stop giggling and start fucking. The feather might have tickled but it also made me very aware of every inch of my exposed flesh. I was highly turned on and Aseem hadn’t even touched me.
“Okay, I’ll stop with this one and use the next gift. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I cried, “please!”
I had seen the other implement in the box. It was a flogger. Again red, the flails made of the same suede that the handle was covered in, and I couldn’t wait to feel it on my skin.
Aseem had spanked me many times over the years we’d been together but he’d always used his bare hand. As arousing as that was, I was eager to feel the fiery flick of the flogger. A new experience for our anniversary.
“Oh, it’s got a nice weight in my hand,” he proclaimed, “and the handle is lovely and soft.”
I held my breath and waited for the moment he’d use it on me. The first touch I felt was of the strands cascading over my shoulders. The strands were heavier in their caress than the light-edged feather but still they tickled my flesh.
He trailed the tails down to my arse. Both buttocks were completely exposed and so the fronds tickled over and between my cheeks I braced myself for what would happen next. The first swipe wasn’t hard. It made me gasp as the tips left a little pain after the tickling caress. Aseem grew more confident and struck me harder each time. It was the perfect level of pleasurable pain and it exploded in several places at once. I shifted my hips up and down as I became more and more turned on.
“I can’t wait any more,” he groaned. “I’m going to have to fuck you now.”
He reached up and unfastened the cuffs so I could turn over. Then he fastened me back.
Aseem moved off the bed and I watched from my prone position as he took off his clothes. I licked my lips when he revealed his rock-hard cock. I loved my husband and I knew I’d never tire of seeing his gorgeous body.
“Okay, wife, are you ready for me?” He smirked wickedly.
“Oh, yes, husband, I am very ready for you.”
“Let me check.” He climbed over to me and pushed a finger down between my wet sex lips. “Oh yes,” he moaned, “you really are ready.”
He climbed between my thighs and ran his cock up and down my slit. I writhed beneath him, desperate for his penetration. I met his aroused gaze and I could see how much he enjoyed teasing me but also I noted the strain in his cheeks and neck. I knew he was teasing himself too. We both sighed in relief when his dick pushed into me. I was so wet he slipped in without trouble. I welcomed him inside me enthusiastically and wrapped my legs around him to pull him deeper.
His hands fell either side of my head as he leaned over me to get more manoeuvrability in his hips. He fucked me hard and fast and I just held on for the ride. We kissed deeply. I loved him so much and I tried to express that through my lips and the way I pushed my body up to his.
I felt cherished and wanted. Aseem moaned through our kiss and I knew from the way he tensed that he was close to coming.
“Fill me,” I whispered when our mouths parted. I cocked my head so I could press my words to his ears. “Come inside me. I want your cum. I want to feel your orgasm as you explode inside me. I want to feel your cum slipping down between my lips.”
“Fuck, yes.” He groaned and ground harder into me. “My dirty, filthy wife, I love you.” He held still within me and I felt his cock throb inside me.
“I love you too,” I panted. “Happy anniversary.”
“Hold on, we’re not finished yet,” he said and rolled to his side and lay next to me. He rested his cheek against my stomach and ran his fingers up between my thighs. I moaned, split my thighs and lifted my bum off the bed. I needed to come and I wanted him to give me that release.
“Oh, you are a naughty wife,” he whispered and dipped his fingers inside me, “you’re so wet and so hot.”
“For you,” I gasped, echoing the words of the first time we made love.
“Yes, janemaan, you are my own personal slut, it is one of many things I love about you. Now come for me, baby. I want to see you come.”
I rocked my hips up and down in time with his finger-fucking. I was tied, I had no control over my body or my pleasure. I was totally dependent on Aseem and that made me feel so sexy and hot.
He left his fingers in me and pressed his thumb to my clit. I loved the full feeling and the clit stimulation was just what I needed to push my pleasure to the next level.
“Yes, yes,” I cried, “I’m going to come, Aseem.”
“Come for me.” He kissed my stomach. “Come for me.”
I stiffened and felt the world explode within me. I blew apart then pulled back together around his fingers that still rested inside me. I was intrinsically part of him as I reformed as the same woman but content and all the more convinced that I was with the love of my life. I didn’t want to be anywhere else, I didn’t want to be with anyone else. I was where I was meant to be. Contentment washed over me as the orgasmic bliss gently faded.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“And thank you,” he replied. “Happy anniversary. Here’s to many more.”
“Orgasms or anniversaries?” I giggled.
“Both, I hope!” We laughed, kissed and he reached up to free my hands. “Did you enjoy your presents?”
“Oh yeah.” I nodded enthusiastically and rubbed my wrists as my hands tingled with release. “Oh very yeah.”
“Hmm, I’ll have my work cut out besting that next year, won’t I?”
My love for Aseem grew every day. He was once again my jailer but I didn’t want to break free. Every day I found some reason to fall in love with him just a little bit more.
I was just living proof that sometimes life was stranger than a Bollywood movie and sometimes what seemed to be a nightmare could change into a dream come true.
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Djinn’s Amulet: Silver Screen Dream
Victoria Blisse
Excerpt
Chapter One
Johnny
Before we go any further, I should introduce myself. You can call me Johnny. It’s not my name, but you can call me by it. I’m a Djinn and we don’t give out our real names willy-nilly like you daft humans. We know the power of a name and are very cagey when it co
mes to introductions.
Occasionally, though, we get tricked, and that’s what happened to me many moons ago, and now I look after a young human called Rahul. He’s not the man who tricked me, that was his father’s father’s father’s father’s father or something like that. Some Djinns get let off easy with only a generation or two of service before a kind human wishes them free, but somehow I managed to get stuck with a family full of selfish bastards. I just get handed down from Khan to Khan and do their bidding. It’s not a thrilling life.
I don’t interfere in the affairs of mortals unless I am explicitly ordered to. Well, usually. It’s not a hard and fast rule. If Rahul were to trip up and fall in the Ganges, for example, I’d leap to his rescue because he would be in mortal danger, no explicit order needed. I’m bound to the dark-haired, blue-eyed fool, and so I have to keep him alive and well until it’s time for his natural demise.
Rahul doesn’t mistreat me, he doesn’t call on me at all hours to make him magic beverages or massage his calloused feet like his father did. I do very little for him, truth be told. He’s asked me to grant him one wish in all his life so far, and that was to make him famous. So we hit Mumbai and he became an overnight Bollywood sensation.
He’s a good-looking lad, for a human, with russet-toned skin and eyes that shine like hidden sapphires, and so he fell into the acting life with ease. I barely had to use any magical influence at all. I accompany him on set, but I tend to ignore the whole rigmarole myself. I prefer filling in the Mumbai Times crossword than watching the simpering girls dancing and the boy meets girl, loses girl, finds girl storylines of Bollywood.
Some of my relatives would kill for my glamorous life, but then they’re trapped in bogs, deserts and wastelands. Some days I wish I was in a wasteland. Let me tell you the tale of when my Master went to London and the headache I had looking after him there. I’m a Djinn, we like to tell stories and moan. It’s a little known fact.
* * * *
Rahul was just finishing up work on the latest Bollywood blockbuster, Benazir, which means Incomparable to all you English-speaking folks. I can’t remember what it was about, but it was the typical Bollywood love story and I mostly ignored it during filming.
“Johnny,” my master summoned me.
I put down my needlework—what, even Djinn need a hobby—and I did the impressive poof thing complete with smoke, lightning and glowing, red eyes.
“Oh, stop messing,” he snapped. “This is important.”
“Yes, Master.” I bowed and changed into Rahul’s preferred envisagement. I find it to be rather constricting to be in human form, but I have to do his bidding whether I want to or not.
“I’ve just spoken to Uncle Rajeesh, and he’s spouting some nonsense about marriage.”
“Well, you’re getting on now, Rahul. You’re in your late twenties. It’s time you settled down.”
“Oh, shut up, Johnny. They have that horrible, simpering woman Malati all lined up for me. Apparently, all this was decided years ago when my father went into business with hers. It explains why they kept making us play together as kids even though we hated each other.”
“Well, yes. It makes the wedding go much smoother if you know your future wife beforehand.”
“I’m not ready for marriage, and I will not have one arranged for me,” Rahul snapped. “I command you to stop it.”
“Ah, Master, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not? I am your Master, correct?”
“Yes, Sir,”
“Then you do whatever I command you to do.”
“Technically, Sir, yes.”
“What do you mean ‘technically’?” He raised a questioning brow.
“Well, I accepted an order from your father, and as he was my master first, his command came before your command.”
“And what was it?” Rahul snapped.
“I was instructed by your father at the time of Malati’s birth to ensure that you married her for the good of the family, so I’m bound by that command.”
“Bullshit,” Rahul snarled. “My father is dead. I’m your master now.”
“Yes, Master, I know, but your father was very specific when he made that particular wish. He told me it should supercede your wishes and should be my number one priority after his death.”
“So you won’t help me avoid the wedding, then?”
“No, Sir, I’m afraid I can’t.”
“Well, then I command you to go back into your stupid little kettle and stay there. What’s the use of having a damn Djinn if he won’t do as he’s told?”
I disappeared with less pomp than I’d arrived and settled back to my crossword. I didn’t care whom he married, I just had to do what I was commanded to do.
You get to see a lot when you’re a Djinn in an ornamental kettle. I know an elaborate Arabic tea kettle is not a home to brag about, but at least it wasn’t the usual lamp. Lamps really are cheesy. I take what little joy I can, where I can.
A few hours after I’d been banished back to my comfortable kettle home, the door of the caravan rattled on its hinges and the sound was accompanied by girly giggles.
“At last,” the young lady exclaimed. “I hate filming in the jungle, it’s not good for my hair or my complexion.”
“Mine, neither,” Rahul agreed, and the annoying giggles started up all over again. “Did you hear they’re planning a big launch in London for this one?” Rahul asked the willowy maiden.
“Oh, no, I hadn’t heard. That’s amazing. I’ve always wanted to go to London.”
“Well, I’ve been told they’re only taking a few of us over there. I’m definitely going, and of course Farhanaa is going.”
“Oh, of course.” She almost spat out the words. “Little princess big nose would have to go.”
“I hear they may take a few others of the cast, but the decision hasn’t been made, yet.”
“Do you think they’ll take me?” she asked. She fluttered her eyelashes as if she were blinking into a force nine gale.
“I don’t know, Panya. I would say your role is integral to the whole movie, but who knows what the director might think.”
“If my character didn’t exist, the love story wouldn’t exist. I think I should go to London.”
“So do I, my dear,” Rahul replied sweetly. “You’re by far the most beauteous of all the women, you’d be the best advertisement for Bollywood. I know it.”
“Do you think you could persuade Dakshi of that?” Panya rubbed her lithe body against Rahul’s arm and did the tornado thing with her eyelashes once more.
“Well, he does listen to me, so I might be able to get you into the party.”
“Oh, Rahul, I’d be ever so grateful if you could.”
Rahul was talking out of his backside. Dakshi pretty much hated him, but Rahul wouldn’t let a little detail like that get in the way of getting some skin on skin action. Rahul had many wonderful character traits, but they were hidden in the dark corners of his soul.
“Well, I have to make sure the most beautiful woman in Bollywood is by my side in England.”
“Oh, you’re so charming,” she said and batted a limp hand against his arm.
“I only tell the truth,” he replied with his most over-used and most disarming smile. “I’m so lucky to be working with you.”
It was as if they were practicing for a scene in the stupid film. They stopped talking and stared at each other. I could hear the dreamy twang of a pretend sitar and I thoroughly expected a gaggle of sari-swirling dancing girls to sway and shimmy past at any moment. It couldn’t have been better choreographed if there had been a director on set, so to speak.
Their lips met in perfectly synched slow motion. They didn’t move for a moment, as if a camera were zooming in to capture the contrast of bright red lady lips and dark guy lips. Then the kiss began in earnest and after a matter of seconds the heat level grew and the whole thing became less Bollywood and more steamy sex tape.
The satin
material that covered her body was unwound and discarded with great speed. I confess, I watched. I might be a Djinn, but we have needs, too. I’d not seen a female Djinn for longer than I cared to remember so I would watch Rahul to take the edge off my centuries old inflicted celibacy.
Panya was a little skinny for my liking. Female Djinn’s are big and powerful—they need to be to deal with the male of the species. Her body was wiry and skinny and her tits were hard to detect, but Rahul didn’t seem to be put off. He stroked then licked and sucked on them until Panya mewled with what I could only assume was delight.
Human sex can be very stimulating under the right circumstances, but I just couldn’t get into the action. It seemed so fake. Every movement looked calculated, and even though it all appeared to flow so well, it just seemed as if I were watching porn on the screen. There was no life in them, no spark and no fun.
They made all the right sounds and movements, though, and even their grunts and groans were perfect and polite. I like whimpers and squeaks and laughter and unexpected noises that just burst free from lips. Djinn sex is very violent and harsh and raw, and that’s how I like it. Well, I would if I were having any, that is.
Rahul smiled sweetly as he showed the once again dressed Panya out of the door then sighed and shook his head as he pushed it to behind her.
“How’s that wife look now?” I asked as he turned around.
“I’m not going to get married, Johnny. Not now, not ever, and certainly not to some simpering fool Dad decided in his apparent wisdom to betroth me to. I’ll leave the damn country before I’ll get married.”
“All right, all right, I get your point. But you know I can’t do anything to help you. I have to follow your father’s command.”
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