Anything He wants

DADDY BECOMES MY MASTER

There’s a golden glint in the distance, a beacon that shines in the darkness of this cave.

For a second, I don’t even think it’s real. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me.

My stepdad and I have been walking this archaeological site for a good while now, moving slowly as we traverse the black dankness of the underground cave.

Why us? Well, my stepdad discovered it, and I’m merely his assistant.

Our team is outside still sleeping in their tents because my stepdad took it upon himself to explore his discovery on his own. He’s always been ambitious like that, and he’s willing to dig a little dirt if it gets him ahead in the game.

There is some ambient light coming in through a hole in the ceiling, so I’m not sure if the glint is anything special or just a reflection of the light. But even so, something down here must be reflecting it, and it’s unlikely a something down here isn’t inherently special, so that’s a good start. I glance over at my stepdad, who’s focused on a rock formation on the other side of the cave. He seems intently busy, so I leave him be as I head over to the bounty that I discovered. Of course, if it is something amazing, my stepdad would never let me leave this cave with any sort of credit to my name. That’s the problem with working with a top notch archaeologist: anything found goes straight to their pocket, and credit is never doled out. Not that I’d expect it: we don’t exactly get along. He’s an arrogant hardass; I don’t really play nice. We just happen to be a family of archaeologists, including my mom, who set us up together on this venture. But just because I have to be around him, doesn’t mean I’m going to respect him any more than I do. Shit, I don’t even like calling him my dad. Just walking off on my own feels like an adventure, just so I can get away from my stepdad for more than a minute. It’s tough being cramped up with him for the past six months. It’s not like he’s a possessive man-not with people anyway-but such close proximity starts to interfere with any sense of independence. Moments like these, if only twenty feet away from him, are highly coveted.

The cave is rocky, so I have to be careful crossing the perilous terrain. There’s a tiny stream passing a few feet below, an uninteresting sight above ground, but an amazing experience below. The sounds of water rushing echoes off the walls, and the thoughts of what crazy ecosystems must exist down here can send a girl’s heart all aflutter.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

I’m not an archaeologist for no reason.

As I get close to the glint, it seems to pulse, bursting with a light. This is no glint nor reflection; this thing seems alive. When I’m close enough, I notice a wooden chest, its lid open, its storage filled with radiating light. When I come down to the small clearing where the object resides, I hit flat ground. Although the chest draws me, I take quick glance in the distance.

Straight darkness that descends a hundred meters, the stream dipping off a cliff and into an underground lake. The sight is a wonder to behold, something that would normally make my jaw hang as I marvel at my luck to

see something so unscathed by human development.

But this time, my attention is drawn to the crate with the sunny glow. Each step closer pulls forth another pulse of energy. Absentmindedly, I reach for the object inside, which is clouded by the bath of golden light. Only when I hold it in my hands, can I clearly see what it is.

It’s a lamp.

Not the electric kind, but an ancient oil lamp or tea kettle, long and slender with a circular handle on one end and a spout on the other. It must be a thousand years old. I realize my folly of holding it directly in my hands, possibly contaminating it with the modern age.

But… the feel of it. The touch in my fingertips is addictive. So heavy, so dense, yet so vibrant. The gold is varnished, as if recently cleaned. “Jasmine,” a steady, commanding voice behind me speaks, “put that down.”

I turn around. “No,” I say, not looking at him, but the object in my hand. “Jasmine,” his voice even firmer now, “put that down immediately. You don’t know what you’re holding in your hands.”

My brow furrows, a deep, unexplained anger rising in me. “I hold my future. My discovery.”

He shakes his head, descending the rocks. “No, that’s not your discovery, you stupid girl.”

His insults are nothing new. I might be his stepdaughter, but he treats me more like an insipid, lowly assistant than his own family.

“You’re just jealous,” I respond, my indignation something entirely new. I’ve always ignored his negativity, considering it a quirk of his and letting it slide. But now it seems to rifle my meekness, instead incensing me to a bubbling fury.

“Jealous of you? Never. What I am is not an idiot. You hold a dangerous relic in your fingertips, something that contains an ancient magic inside it.

You need to set it down on the ground and back away.”

I can hear whispers, a soft, ancient wind that carries no words but speaks to me. They cloud my mind, making him seem far away as he speaks. I can’t hear him; I can only hear the void.

It calls me to rub the lamp.

I do as it bids, caressing the lamp with one hand.

“You foolish girl! Put it down!”

It’s too late as a thick, purple miasma flows from the spout. It seeks me, the mist circling my body as the lamp floats from my hands into the air. As it twirls around me, I can feel the cloud begin to seep into my pores, filling

me

with its essence.

It doesn’t burn, it doesn’t hurt. It’s simply refreshing, like a cool breeze that doesn’t just brush by me, but flows deep through me, embracing every bone and fiber in my body. I shiver and shake, scrunching up as a tingle of something courses through my veins.

That something is infinite power.

I cry out, not from pain, but from an excitement of force that could turn any mouse into a lion. If I wasn’t obsessed with power before, I got hit with so much that it’s destined to be the driving force for the rest of my life.

But this power isn’t meant to be mine.

My stepfather watches on in shock as the transformation begins. My arms spread out and my feet lift in the air, causing me to hover a foot from the ground. With a puff of mist, my clothes are evaporated from my body, a surge of adrenaline kicking in as I’m left nude in front of my father.

I look down at myself and can see the hair from my armpits fall out. It drops from me as if being pushed from my skin, ejected as unwanted. It all comes out, leaving my armpits completely bare, smoother than I’ve ever been

able to shave them. Six months in the middle of nowhere can make it near impossible to keep oneself groomed. Can’t say I disapprove of this new situation at all.

But then the hair around my pussy begins to fall out as well. Strands drop off me, so many, so quickly that it looks like I’m being shaved by an invisible razor. I’m left bald around my genitals, and I feel a heat rise to my face. I look down at him as he watches my pussy with nothing short of interest, given a clear view of what my body looks like sans hair. Clothes form over my body: a yellow bra and short jacket that covers only my shoulders, as well as a pair of yellow lace panties.

Lastly, I can feel my normally short hair grow out past shoulder length. A golden tiara morphs on top of my head, and one final accessory appears around my neck: an unbreakable, golden choker.

I lower to the ground, my bare feet lightly touching the earth. I can feel the power coursing through me, a fear of the unknown following shortly behind.

“W-what happened?” I mutter.

He shakes his head. “I told you to put it down.”

“You knew that would happen?”

“You unlocked an ancient form of magic: the Genie.”

I study my body. Other than my clothes disappearing and my hair simultaneously falling out and growing, I don’t seem any different. The only thing I notice is how oddly I’m dressed.

Almost erotically dressed.

“When you rubbed that lamp, one of two things could have happened.

You call forth the Genie, a powerful being that can wield impossible magics; or, far worse, if the lamp is empty, the first person to rub the lamp becomes the Genie.”

“Magic?” This power. This must be it. I lift my hand, and with a wave, I can feel a ripple of energy pass through the fabric of the universe. As if the knowledge of my power was directly etched in my brain, I form a burst of flame in the palm of my hand, letting it shoot up and light up the room. “Oh my god!” I shout, gleefully firing off magic into the room, enjoying the power in my fingertips.

He smiles and comes closer.

“Why are you smiling?” I fume. It’s like this power feeds on my emotions, making me arrogant. My stepfather’s attitude is something I no longer can tolerate. “I thought I was just a stupid girl?”

He laughs, bending down. “You are.”

The anger inside me pushes at my walls, begging to be released. I can feel the power in me well up in my hands, ready to be expelled directly at my stepfather.

But he stands up, the lamp in his hands. It had fallen to the ground as I did, and in my wonder at my transformation, I had forgotten all about it. But my stepdad never once took his eyes off it.

Just as deep down, I know how my powers worked, I know what power the lamp holds over me. The anger in me remains, but the powers I wish directed at him will no longer heed me.

“The one thing about Genies is that they’re forever trapped to serve their masters, the owners of the lamp.”

“What about wishes?” I ask, recalling the lore of Genies and the three wishes they bestow upon their masters.

He shakes his head, laughing, “No, no. That’s a myth. Genie’s weren’t created to be temporary workers; they were created to be slaves.”

Slaves?

My stepfather hooks the lamp around a carabiner on his belt we use for climbing. Now it serves as the perfect tool for my enslavement. He walks around me, looking at me in that condescending way he normally does. This anger for my master eats away at me, but no matter what I think, I can’t compel myself to lash out at him.

“And from what I can tell, based on how you’re dressed, Genies were meant to be sex slaves as well.”

“Sex slaves?!” I gasp. “Are you serious?”

“Hmm, I did just see your pussy lose all that pesky hair, didn’t I? I think it was to prepare you to serve me.”

“Serve you?” I scoff. “I’ll never serve you. You’re a sick fuck if you think I’m going to do what you say.”

My stepfather taps the lamp at his hip. “This says otherwise.” “Yeah, no lamp tells me what to do.” Part of me knows I’m lying to myself, but another part wants it to be true. I walk past him, intent on leaving him in the dust and showing him I’m no slave to his sick perversions. I can’t believe he would think he could make me his sex slave. Not in a million fucking years.

“Jasmine,” the confidence in his voice is oozing, “stop.” My body seizes, preventing me from walking away. No, not just walking away, it prevents me from moving at all, freezing me in mid-step.

“Turn around.”

I turn, facing my master. The look in his eyes is mock curiosity, feigning interest but knowing nonetheless exactly what’s going to happen.

“Come here.”

I approach him the second his command finishes, my body all too eager to comply.

“Are you able to stop yourself from doing what I say?”

I don’t respond, fuming that he’s abusing this new revelation so easily.

“Answer me when I ask you a question.”

“Yeah, I can stop myself, and I can do whatever I want.” The irony of lying while being forced to answer does not escape either of us. “From now on, you only tell me the truth. No more lying from you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” The words come from my mouth without any ability to stifle them. It seems that whenever he tells me I must do something, I must, no matter what. His last two commands combine so that now when he asks a question, I must answer it, and I must answer it truthfully.

But he’s not done giving commands. “When you speak to me from now on,” he says, his lips twisted upward in contemplation, “you must call me daddy. I’ve been so tired of your attitude lately. Understand?”

No, he can’t, he… “Yes, daddy.”

“Oooo, god that sounds good. Hearing you say that, I know you hate the idea of calling me daddy. It just bothers you so much, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He laughs, “Oh, this is too good.”

“What do you want from me?” I tug at the gold choker around my neck.

Neither force nor magic can remove the chain that binds me. “I want you to know who’s the master of this house. On your knees.”

I drop down onto the cold rock without a moment’s hesitation.

“Take off my pants.”

I make quick work of his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. Daddy’s cock springs from his shorts, soft but growing steadily. The thought of having control over me must be exciting him. When his cock pumps blood, hardening his erection, I feel a twinge in my own body, an excitement I can’t control.

I once tried my hardest to avoid my daddy (I can’t even think of him as anything but daddy now!), not wanting anything to do with him. He’s always dirty from his digs, like he has a permanent spot of dirt on his body that moves around but never goes away. It makes an easy excuse for me, but it might have all been because I have this attraction for him that I can’t make go away. I couldn’t understand how I disliked him but wanted him at the same time.

And it all comes to a head now that he’s standing here, his dick twitching in erotic movement, me at his beck and call, ready to submit without conscious thought.

I can’t help it when I feel moisture begin to build down below.

“What do you think, babygirl?”

I blush, my thoughts about to be made bare through magical coercion. “I think I want to suck it, daddy.”

He smiles, “That’s what I thought.”

My face burns, utterly embarrassed at my admission.

“Go on, little Genie. Suck daddy’s dick.”

His soft cock is immediately in my mouth, my salivary glands releasing upon the taste of his salty flesh. My first suck is like heaven, drawing his flesh forward, his taste into my mouth, all while making him even harder.

As he hardens, I feel the pull of his cock calling for my touch, which forces my hand to his shaft.

What the hell? Did his dick just tell me what to do?

Does it have a mind of it’s own?!