You Can't Always Get What You Want

Author's note: Whilst re-watching a re-run of an episode of one of my favourite TV shows recently, the germ of a story popped into my head. I wrote the following fantasy and I hope my loyal band of followers enjoy it, and leave me some feedback when they've finished it. As always, all sex is consensual, and indulged in by people of at least eighteen years of age.

If we hadn't decided to move house, what I'm about to describe would never have happened. But an ideal house in the perfect location came onto the market, and as our then current abode was certainly not suitable for the lifestyle Richard and I had decided to adopt, we bit the bullet and moved, lock, stock and barrel out of our semi-detached house on the outskirts of town into a lovely old farmhouse, set in its own grounds in the countryside, well away from prying eyes and just perfect for a Hot Wife and her submissive cuckold to continue their new found lifestyle in peace and quiet.

The removal firm had departed and Richard and I found ourselves alone in our new home. We had deliberately left moving out of our old house until the first Saturday of the long six week school holiday, because there were certain alterations that we intended to make, and my being off school meant that I could supervise Richard whilst the said alterations were done.

First on our list that Saturday morning was the clearing out of the garage. On our visit to see the house some weeks before we put an offer in for it, Richard and I decided that the garage would make a splendid play room. There was an old barn on our land that could easily be converted into a double garage, leaving the current one, which was built onto the house, free to be converted into a play room for a Hot Wife and her submissive cuckold, and any like minded guests they chose to invite.

The weather was warm and sunny as we made an early start on that fateful Saturday. We had decided to be ruthless and to throw out anything that didn't belong to us, and that had been left by the previous owners. To that end, we had hired the biggest skip (dumpster for my American readers) that we could find, and for the first couple of hours, we trudged back and forth, throwing all sorts of unwanted rubbish into it.

Richard had gone into the house to make us both a cup of coffee at about eleven o'clock. The garage was looking a lot emptier, and I was thinking about how it would look as a playroom. I shifted a couple of big tins which, judging from their state and weight had once contained paint. And that's when I saw the roll of carpet.

I say carpet, but it was more like a rug. I was tempted to open it up to see if it was worth keeping, but a little voice in my head reminded me that we'd decided to be totally ruthless, and to throw everything that we came across. I shrugged my shoulders and made to pull the rug out, ready to throw into the skip. Except it was so heavy, I couldn't move the damn thing. Luckily, Richard appeared with two steaming mugs of coffee at that very moment."Give us a hand with this," I said, nodding at the rolled up carpet. "It seems to be stuck. I can't budge the bloody thing!"

As I mentioned above, Richard is a submissive cuckold, but in his vanilla life, he's also a civil engineer, well used to hard, manual graft. He gave me my coffee, put his own mug down and started to tug the roll of carpet out.

"Bloody hell!" he said, "you're not wrong! For a small roll of carpet, this is incredibly heavy."

But eventually he managed to get it out into the middle of the much emptier garage.

"It seems to be a rug, not a carpet," he said. "Do you want to have a look at it? If it's anyway half decent, maybe we could make use of it?"

So despite our earlier decision, my curiosity got the better of me.

"Go on then," I said, "unroll it. But if it's dirty or got holes or signs of moths, in the skip it's going!"

Richard slit the two pieces of cord that were holding the rug in its tight roll. He grabbed one loose end and tugged and the carpet slowly unrolled.There were no holes, nor moths either. But what there was stunned us both.

A young woman, dressed as if she was going to a fancy dress party as Scheherazade, from the 'One Thousand And One Nights' stories lay at our feet. She opened her eyes and slowly got to her feet.

I looked at Richard, whose incredulity was matched by my own. Before either of us could speak, the woman smiled and bowed from her waist.

"A thousand thanks, O Master," she said in English, but with a distinct Middle Eastern accent. "Thy servant Yasmin awaits her instructions. How may I serve thee, O Lord and Master?"

Both Richard and I were gobsmacked. Neither of us said a word for what seemed like ages. Eventually, I managed to find my voice.

"Who are you?" I asked, "and what are you doing in our garage, rolled up in a rug? How long have you been lying there?"

The young woman looked at me disdainfully. She turned back to Richard.

"Who is this slut?" she asked. "Dressed like a common prostitute. She smells like the rubbish tip at the back of the kasbah, where all the poor and the criminals congregate."

I was wearing jeans and a T shirt, and to be fair to her, I had been perspiring. Clearing a garage was hard work, and it was a beautifully warm day. But all the same, I wasn't about to be spoken of and to in such a dismissive way.

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" I said in my sternest teacher's voice. "You can talk about being dressed like a prostitute. Look at yourself! "

The woman was wearing some sort of silky gauze around her head. She was extremely busty, and her diaphanous bra was struggling to hold up a pair of the nicest tits I'd seen in a long time. (Did I mention that in my role as a Hot Wife, I am bi-sexual? No? Well, just take it as read that I am!)

She was also wearing a pair of voluminous cropped trousers, in the same material as her headdress and her bra. On closer inspection, she had pierced ears, a prominent nose stud, and both of her nipples and her belly button were pierced and ringed as well. She looked at me and scowled.

"I answer only to my Lord and Master," she spat and turned her back on me, facing Richard. She sank to her knees, so that her face was level with Richard's cock.

"Thy wish is my command, O Master," she said softly. "Ask of thy Yasmin and it shall be granted unto thee as many as three times."

Richard looked at me and grinned.

"Be very careful, cucky," I warned him. "You're milking is due this afternoon. It can easily be postponed, if you overstep the mark."

His grin disappeared, but the woman spoke up again.

Does the slut displease thee, Lord? Should I turn her into a flea that resides around a camel's arsehole?"

"Oh, fuck no! There's no need for that," spluttered Richard, hauling the woman to her feet. "Look, let's not stand here in the garage, talking. Come into the house. It's cooler in there.

He winked at me and together we went through the garage door that connected it to the kitchen. The woman stood on the threshold, one foot raised in the air as she tried to step into the kitchen. She wore a frustrated look on her face.

"Come on, it's alright," smiled Richard. "We won't bite!"

"I am unable to leave this place," the woman answered. "My Lord must compel me to follow him. I am obliged to obey any orders my Lord issues."

"In that case, I order you to follow me into the house," Richard said, and as if by magic, her foot came down and she was able to enter the house.

"Follow me," Richard said, "and from now on, every time I speak to you, I will be issuing an order. Is that clear?"

"As clear as the day, Master," she replied, pushing rudely past me and following Richard into the room we had decided was going to be our main sitting room.

By the time I got into the sitting room, Richard was seated in one of the armchairs that the removal men had brought in and the woman was kneeling in front of him, gazing at him with what could only be described as a look of total devotion on her face. It was time for me to re-assert my authority, I decided.

"It's milking time," I snapped. "Get into position, cucky. Come on! Jump to it!"

Richard got to his feet and so did our visitor. She looked askance as Richard began to lower his trousers.

"Dost thou require assistance, Master?" she began, uncertainly. "Art thou too warm? Is that why thou art discarding thine apparel?"

"My cuckold does as he's told," I informed her. "This is our weekly routine. He's been a good, obedient little cucky, and I'm about to milk him. Get out of my way. You may watch, if you like."

She turned back to face Richard, just as he lowered his panties. I've been making him wear women's underwear for years, and he has quite a collection by now. Today he was wearing a pair of powder blue cotton briefs. There was the usual wet patch in the gusset. Although I keep him permanently cock locked, by the weekend he is usually leaking pre-cum, and today was no exception. I grinned at him.

"Oh dear," I sighed dramatically, "you've stained your panties again. That's six strokes. Should I administer them before or after I've milked you?"

Richard blushed, but his caged cock gave a slight twitch. He couldn't get a full hard on whilst wearing it, even though he has a really tiny cock. I've made him buy the smallest chastity device available, and believe me, it gets very snug when I tease him!

He opened his mouth to answer, but Yasmin, or whatever the fuck her name was, beat him to it.

"Thou art in pain, Lord," she announced. "Why is thy pizzle caged up thus? Should I make thy cage disappear?"

"Pizzle?" I chuckled, "what the fuck makes you think that Richard has a pizzle? For your information my dear, the term pizzle is usually applied to a bull's cock, and Richard is certainly no bull! Au contraire, he is the exact opposite! He's a cu..."

I thought Yasmin was going to sneeze, but after her rather pert nose had twitched, my mouth wouldn't work. It was half open, and I could no longer complete my description of him as a cuckold. I couldn't even close my mouth.

"That is better," Yasmin announced. "The sound of the whore's voice is as displeasing as a cracked bell. She will remain silent, Master. Dost thou have a task for thy djinni? But remember, unless thou says the appropriate word, Yasmin cannot do whatever thou desires."

Despite not being able to talk, my hearing and my ability to move seemed unimpaired. I frowned angrily at Richard. He was in panic mode, I could tell.

"What the fuck have you done to Olwen?" he croaked. "And what the fuck is a djinni? I haven't got a clue about an appropriate word. Just make my wife normal again."

"That's an order " he added, remembering Yasmin's earlier statement that she would obey any order given..

With a shrug of her shoulders, the young woman repeated her nose twitching thing.

"... ckold," I said. Then I massaged my jaw. It felt perfectly normal.

"What the fuck did you just do to me?" I demanded. Yasmin remained defiantly mute.

"Answer Olwen," muttered Richard. "That's another order!"

"I didn't like the way that thou spoke to my Lord and Master," Yasmin answered sulkily. "He has rescued me and until I have fulfilled my mission, and done his bidding thrice, I am in thrall to him. You, on the other hand, are nothing to me! If you disrespect my Lord and Master, I will act appropriately and teach you to serve as a good hand maiden should."

"A hand maiden? A fucking hand maiden? Listen to me, good girl. I'm a Hot Wife. That, over there, is my cuckold! In this house, I rule the roost. I don't know what gave you the impression that he's in charge, but let me put you straight on that score right away. He isn't! He does as he's told, and if he's a good boy, I give him a treat on a Saturday afternoon, and I milk him. Got it?"

I was livid, and spittle was flying everywhere as I ranted at Yasmin. She smiled arrogantly at me. Richard nodded.

"It's true," he said. "Olwen and I have a different type of lifestyle to most people. I am indeed a cuckold. I know all about the men that fuck Olwen. It's a decision we came to many years ago. So don't judge either of us, Yasmin. We are both very happy with our chosen lifestyle."

"I would not dare to judge thee, Master, or thy concubine, if that is thy desire," she replied submissively. "Yasmin exists to serve. How may I do that, Lord?"

"Well you can start by explaining your presence here," Richard said decisively. "How did you get into our garage, and how long have you been wrapped up in that rug?"

Before she could answer, I spoke up.

"I need a drink," I said. "Something cold, I think. Richard, if we're on hold for the moment to listen to this girl's explanation, we might as well make ourselves comfortable. Go and get us both a drink."

I looked at Yasmin. At that moment, I didn't particularly like her, but I did remember my manners.

"Would you like some refreshment, Yasmin?" I asked.

She seemed to come to a decision. Given what Richard had told her, she decided that I was worthy to talk to.

"No, thank you," she replied. "Yasmin does not require refreshment at this stage. Unless my Lord and Master desires me to drink. Is it acceptable to thee, Lord?"

"Of course it is," replied Richard, going to the kitchen to get some lemonade out of the fridge. But Yasmin beat him to it. There was a faint twitch of the nose again, and two sweating glasses appeared on the sitting room coffee table. Yasmin picked one up and offered it to Richard with a bow.

"How the hell did you do that?" he asked in amazement.

"Thou desired refreshment," Yasmin replied. "I am here to serve thee."

A lightbulb flashed in my mind's eye.

"You're a Genie," I said slowly. "I thought your sort lived in a lamp. Like in the story of Aladdin."

"That is a children's tale," Yasmin said scornfully. "Western people do not comprehend the ancient culture of my homeland. I am a djinni, not a Genie. May I continue, Lord?"

This last question was directed at Richard. He nodded enthusiastically.

"Tell us everything," he said. "Don't leave anything out. That's an order," he added.

I had to admit that Yasmin's lemonade was the best I'd ever tasted. It was ice cold and incredibly refreshing. I took another sip and settled back to listen to her explanation.

"I have existed to serve for over two thousand of your years," Yasmin began. "I was brought to this country by the great, great grandfather of the man who sold this house recently. He had been in the British army in the conflict in Afghanistan in the year 1839, and he won me when he fought and killed my then Lord and Master. I became his property. I have existed here and served generations of my original Lord and Master's descendants ever since. Thou art the first person to free me from my bonds for... let me see... thirty seven years."

She looked from Richard to me, and back again.

"I am not boring thee?" she asked.

Richard shook his head and made 'get on with it' gestures.

"My last Lord and Master had a son," she continued, "and he informed the young man of my presence before I had completed my duty and granted his three wishes. I could not prevent him telling his son, but that was contrary to the rule of discovery."

"Hang on," interrupted Richard, "you're telling me that the father of the man we bought this house from informed his son of your existence, and he did nothing about it?"

"Exactly so, Lord," beamed Yasmin. "I must be discovered and freed from my bonds in order to serve my next Master. I cannot be 'found' by someone who knew of my existance previously. It was thee that found me and freed me. I exist only to serve thee until thy three wishes are granted. Then thou wilt return me to my incarceration until my next Master discovers me."

"What if I am that person?" I asked with a sly grin on my face. "Will I become your Mistress and will I have three wishes too? Richard hasn't told me of your existence. I was there when he 'discovered' you."

Yasmin looked at Richard, who nodded encouragingly.

"Answer her truthfully," he instructed.

"Thou will not remember me," she said with an equally sly grin. "When my Lord and Master is finished with me, he will ensure that I am incarcerated and will place me somewhere to be released by my next Lord and Master. Then he too will forget that I ever existed. That is how my fate is written. I am not permitted pleasure. I require neither food nor drink. Some time at the beginning of the last century, I served a young man who loved to taunt me. I have never seen the beauty of a sunrise or tasted the bubbles in a glass of champagne. He thought it amusing to describe things to me that I can never experience."

What a bastard," Richard said in a low voice. "I hope you didn't grant his wishes?"

"Of course Yasmin did," she replied. "Yasmin's existence depends on her ability to grant wishes. She is not permitted to refuse any request made of her by her Masters."

Richard looked at me and shrugged. I was equally mystified. I realised that Yasmin would only be forthcoming with information directly to her 'Lord and Master' or to me, if ordered to do so. I beckoned Richard over to me.

"Tell her to go back to the garage and await further instructions," I whispered in his ear. "We need to talk. If we're not careful, this could fuck up our lifestyle here."

Richard nodded his understanding and his agreement. He turned to face Yasmin.

"Go back to the place where I freed you," he said slowly and clearly. When I desire your presence again, I will come and fetch you."

"There is no need to trouble thyself," answered Yasmin. "Think of me and summon me through thy thoughts. I will attend thee instantly. Farewell Lord."

There was no puff of smoke or flash of lightning. One moment Yasmin was in front of us, the next she wasn't. I looked at Richard and he looked at me.

"Fucking hell!" we both said simultaneously.

Now that Yasmin was no longer in our company, normal service was resumed.

"We need to think this through properly," I began. "You have the three wishes, there's no doubt about that. But you can wish for what we both want, surely?"

"I suppose so," he answered slowly. "What do you think? Should I give myself a nine inch cock and no premature ejaculation? And of course, the ability to get hard again instantly?"

We both laughed.

"If that's what you really want, then of course you should ask for it," I replied. "We had a normal married life for the first two years after our wedding. I still love you as much today as I did when I said 'I do,' all those years ago. We can go back to being a normal married couple and you can fuck me as often as you like. Especially if you have a nine inch cock!"

"I don't know," Richard said honestly. "We tried swinging and that didn't work. You embraced the Hot Wife lifestyle at my suggestion, and I must admit, I adore being your cuckold. I never really enjoyed fucking, even when you allowed it. I'm hopeless at it. I much prefer it when you make me worship your cunt. Especially if you've just been fucked by whoever happens to be your current boyfriend. Would you mind awfully if we didn't change our current arrangement?"

"Not at all," I replied truthfully. In fact I was relieved. If Richard had chosen to follow through with his suggestion and given himself a bigger cock and longer staying power, I would have accepted his decision. I love him, as I have already stated. But I also love being a Hot Wife, and these days, coming home to him with a cum filled cunt or making him stand in the corner of my bedroom and watch me getting fucked is a turn on for both of us. I also love teasing and denying him. So to retain the status quo suited me perfectly.

Casually, I picked up my favourite lady pipe and slipped it into my mouth. I lit it and savoured the first taste of aromatic smoke. I sat down in one of the armchairs, and Richard automatically came and knelt down at my side.