It was time. He moved out from the hallway and, taking the Boss by the arm, pulled her out behind him.
He threaded his way through the crowded room. With a variety of scenes going on, and the teeming mass of people filling the cavernous space, he knew he and the Boss would remain relatively anonymous. He didn’t want to be stopped, didn’t want her attention on anything but him as he guided her down the road to her destiny.
She was quiet just now, the Boss, which was a miracle. Over the last two days, she had chattered to him quite a bit. Okay, not always verbally, but she didn’t have to know that he could read her thoughts, her body language. Eons of genii enslavement had taught him how to read just about anyone. He scanned the crowd looking for the one she had been brought for. Though strangers now, before this night was done, his non-magical skills should have wrought a miracle…at least for the Boss.
Whether He found his own miracle guy was another question.
He’d given up chaffing at his enslavement long ago, but every once in a while the need for freedom rose with a pang. He wanted to be mortal again.
As if anyone would break a Meissen porcelain to do that. Clever bastard, sticking him into a pricey object d’art. That was in the early 1700’s, he recalled, when Von de Blanc had figured out how to move his captivity to another vessel…something less traditional than a genii bottle, something to be handed down from generation to generation.
The last in the Von de Blanc line had died, eld and irritable, with one wish left. A wish which had kept him bound to the small fish. One fucking wish which had kept him locked away, as the precious china figurine was moved from house, to estate reseller, to the little backwater shop in Connecticut where the Boss had found him.
He was forever grateful to have been released. And gosh if anyone needed him more than anyone? It was the Boss. Repressed, a bit scared of life, more than a bit tentative about her submission, and talk about sexually repressed?!
If he was ever tempted to swing over to the other side? The Boss was certainly a tasty prize. Her tits were fabulous. Hell, he might be gay, but tits were tits…and hers were grade A awesome.
He refocused on the humming room. Snippets of conversations swirled around him “….and so i told Him if He wanted someone to lick His boots He should find a submissive that was a dog in a previous life…” amusing him. Nothing quite like a D/s party in full swing.
” ….Master let them all have a taste…”
“…and the little fucking whore sat there, mouth drooling….”
Gene smiled. How diverse those two conversations were…yet how similar. Everyone thought they were different…but they really were so alike.
He looked around, ignoring the shriek of a subgirl bound to a St. Andrews cross and having her back striped, and the wet slurpy sounds coming from a darkened corner. He knew the Master was standing, arms folded, leaning against the wall, as his slut serviced another. He focused on finding the Man he was seeking.
He knew her future Master was here. The trouble was sniffing him out from this crowd.
He honed in on the aura of the Man he sought. As he drove her across the room silently, he mused about the changes he himself had undergone in 48 hours. He’d been pretty bitter, stuck in that fucking fish. Vowed to only help because of the Djinni Code of Possession.
Somehow, she had softened him, calmed him. He wasn’t one to over analyze, but she’d worked a bit of magic herself, on him. Time to return that favor.
He stopped her forward movement by stepping in front of her.
She looked up at him, questioning. He traced his finger across her gently parted mouth, laying a line of soft pink lipstick there. The shimmering gleam of gold flecks drew attention to her full bottom lip. Simply succulent.
He slipped his hand over her eyes, and a shell-pink blindfold covered her.
“Gene…” Her voice was a whisper and a question.
He bent low to her ear.
“ssssh, Boss, trust me. ”
He left her there, stepping silently away, waiting.
He stood, unobtrusively as her future Master walked towards her. A vision in pink and white, an anomaly in the black-bedecked crowd.
And then there was the sign he’d ‘shazammed’ onto her…
“Are You my Master?”
Things were going to get interesting in 5…4….3….2…..