Summer is the season of bounty and it just so happens I have an exceptional harvest of erotica anthologies headed my way this month. The first sweet treat just arrived--my contributor's copies of Pleasure Bound: True Bondage Stories, edited by Alison Tyler, and including juicy stories by some of my favorite eroticists, Shanna Germain, Kristina Lloyd, Nikki Magennis, Sommer Marsden, and Kristina Wright, along with some very enticing newcomers.I have a special fondness for my story in this anthology, "Yes, Master," which is inspired by the TV show "I Dream of Jeannie." It's not exactly about bondage in the handcuffs-and-tethers kind of way, but wasn't poor Jeannie bound to her master in a very provocative way? Although Barbara Eden was not allowed to show her belly button, I am positive the characters in this silly sit-com starred in many a very naughty scenario in the steamy fantasies of male and female viewers alike. What follows below is all true. And it makes me wonder--which TV shows sparked your erotic imagination? Come on, tell us your true story!
The opener from "Yes, Master":
My obsession with Major Anthony Nelson was probably the only thing that kept me going that summer. I’d scored a supposedly prestigious internship at the State Department (okay, in real life it was the IRS but they beat the State Department in offering me a job)—I dreamed of joining the Foreign Service in college—but my only apparent diplomatic function was to make copies and file documents. That and act as a sort of office decoration, because every time I turned around I caught my fifty-year-old supervisor, Mr. Lemon, staring at my ass.
A career in the civil service was quickly losing its appeal.
After the long, sweaty commute home, I was ready for some serious relaxation. So I went up to my room, stripped down to my underwear and switched on “I Dream of Jeannie” reruns until Mom called me downstairs for dinner. I’d do a little belly dance to the opening credits, then settle back on my bed to float along with the zany hi-jinks and comic misunderstandings. After a while, I wasn’t even really paying attention to the story. I was just giving old Major Nelson the eye and wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Didn’t he have a dick? Here he had this beautiful blonde female ready to do whatever he wished, and all he asked her to do was make dinner when he got home from astronaut training.
By the commercial break, I was still staring at the TV, but I was long lost in my own much hotter show about what those two would really do if Major Nelson had a functioning heterosexual libido. It was all pretty filthy. The Master was always in control, of course, and he’d tell her, “No more blinking and nodding, we’re doing this my way.” Then he’d take scissors and snip holes in her costume to expose her nipples and blonde thatch so he could caress her naughty parts as she served him dinner.
Next it was off to the bedroom where he’d make her dance and rub her breasts and finger her pussy right in front of him, while he asked her dirty questions—Is this making you wet, Jeannie? Have you been dreaming of fucking me all day when you were cooped up in your little bottle? And she’d have to say “Yes, Master,” because it was true. Sometimes he’d even make her masturbate with her bottle before he’d give her what she really wanted—his big, heat-seeking missile thrusting inside her. Once they were fucking he’d let her use her powers again to do it in all kinds of kinky genie-only positions. My favorite variation was the “magic carpet” where she’d be impaled on his cock, but levitated with her legs crossed in front of her. With a blink and a nod, she’d twirl round and round on him like a corkscrew until he shot his wad into her with a deep groan.
Of course, all the while I was doing everything the Master commanded, too, palming my tits and strumming my clit, then kneeling on my bed, as if I were straddling him, and wiggling my ass like an exotic dancer. I got so hot imagining his smoldering gaze stroking me like a wet tongue, his soft, but stern voice urging me on to greater depravities, that I came with a muffled groan of my own, just in time for Mom’s dulcet “Dinner’s ready” floating up from the kitchen.
Yes, Major Nelson--or rather my Major Nelson, the sexually insatiable dom--sure helped me get through a long, hot summer.
It turned out he was a tough act to follow....