Night Skies Hotel IV The Lost Worlds
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Laresa lay curled on the pillows that served as her bed when she was inside of the ring, her body relaxing even though her mind was spinning a thousand miles a minute. He'd lied to her, after all the time he'd held her ring, making her perform his disgusting and obscene duties with little mercy as to her wishes, knowing the rules specifically said that lying would snatch the ring from his grasp and send her back on her voyage through time and space, he'd done it anyway.
And thank the Gods in all the heavens for small favors.
The man had been a pig, both in demeanor and in actions. He had to be one of the worst whose hands she'd fallen into during the years she'd been trapped in this ring. He'd used her body foully, she thought, shifting her hands down her naked sides and over her slender thighs, remembering how often he would bring her so close to her pleasures and then not allow them to happen, how he'd ordered her to never touch herself to bring herself to orgasm. How many years had she suffered his touch, how many years had her body been deprived the pleasure it was capable of giving.
But no more, she thought, her fingers slipping between her slender thighs and finding the wetness between, hidden by the soft white blonde curls that covered her sex. She traced one finger over her flesh, twitching when it grazed the hard bud of her clit. Her head fell back against the pillows, the moonlight curls of hair that covered her head flowing down around her and over the pillows to lie on the floor of the ring. Her bare breasts jiggled as she pleasured herself, her nipples growing harder until she reached up with wet fingers to pinch and twist those pale pink buds.
Her breath grew short, her hips rising against the caress of her fingers, feeling two stretch the delicate flesh of her wet cunt, sliding inside to twist and thrust until she could feel the sweet climax just within her reach. With her eyes shut, she thought back to other masters who had used her, flipping through them like an index in her mind until she found the visage of the one she sought, a dark knight who would seek her out after every win he had, whether it be for property, reputation, or valor.
She pictured him now, his dark face between her pale thighs, teasing her with sly touches of his tongue until she would beg him to finish her, her body like quick silver in his hands, undulating desperately. He would, finding her clit with his hot lips and tongue, his fingers thrusting into her until they seemed little more than a blur, and she would come over his mouth, her juices tasting of the sweetest of nectars, their scent that of cinnamon, sandalwood and musk.
She felt it now, that tightening that triggered the climax, a massive reward for the time she'd spent servicing an ill kempt cowboy. It was so close, so desperately, agonizingly close.
And then she felt the warmth that heralded her calling and the pull of the ring that forced her to obey.
"NO!" she cried, feeling her body turn to the gray smoke that signified her change.
New York City—October 1929
Ryan Richards stared down in dismay at the body that lay on the street in front of him and then glanced up at the tall building above him. Another jumper, he thought sadly, bending down to check for a pulse, though there wasn't much of a hope for one.
That's when he saw the ring. It was a pretty piece, bright gold with an amazingly big stone that winked in the sunshine of the cold autumn day. It might fetch him a decent price if he could find the right market for it. With the hands of a professional thief, which is what he was, he pulled the ring off the quickly cooling fingers of the corpse, standing to greet the cops that were just pulling up with their sirens howling.
"Another bloke trying to see if he could fly," he said, sliding his hand into his pocket, the ring tucked securely in his fist.
"It's the damn stock market, that's what it is. All those people who lost all that money don't think they have anything left to live for. I think they lost their mind too." One of the cops started shooing away the crowd of people that were gathered to see the carnage, the other bent over the body, checking for a pulse before lifting up the man's jacket and covering his face with it, just as the newsmen pulled up with their huge cameras and flashing lights.
"Yeah," Ryan said, ducking his head a little in his coat as if he were cold and backing away from the scene. In his business it was always better to keep his face out of the newspapers. He pulled up the collar, disappearing into the crowd and down an alley, heading for home.
Home was a small one room flat on the fifth floor of a rickety old building. The elevator barely ever worked, the rats were as big as small cats, and he could hear his neighbor snoring through the thin walls. But it was cheap, close to where his hunting grounds were, and the neighbors didn't give two shits about what he did.
The landlord was a lazy, cheap son of a bitch who didn't turn on the heat until the middle of November. So his room was always cold. He walked into the small room, stopping to pick up the blanket that he kept over his one kitchen chair and throwing it around his shoulders. It felt colder inside than it did out.
Then he sat down on the ratty sofa that had come with the place and was also his bed and pulled the ring out of his pocket. Turning it around in his hand, he looked for any kind of marking to show when it was made. The inside was smooth gold, soft from wear, polished by time. He slipped it on his big hand, amazed that it actually fit his wide finger. Holding it up to the light, he admired the dark stone, watching it glimmer.
It might fetch a good price. He could take it down to the broker on Sixth Street, Louis Haggle's place. Louie always got him a decent price and never squealed to the cops that his merchandise might be procured in some illegal manner.
Ryan went to pull the ring off, meaning to put it in his pocket and see what he had around that could possibly be edible. He yanked on it, but it wouldn't budge. Spitting on his fingers, he twisted the ring around, getting it slippery in his saliva and went to try again.
Instead, he watched, fascinated as a puff of gray smoke rose in the air, coalescing into the form of a beautiful woman.
"Whoa," he whispered, jumping up off the sofa and stepping back and away from the woman, his hand raised. "Who are you?"
"My name is Laresa, Master. You have called me from the ring."
He looked down at his hand as she gestured towards it, staring at the ring. The gem, once bright and glittering, was now dull and lifeless. "You're telling me that you came from this ring? How is that possible?"
"I am a genie, Master. The ring is my home when I am not serving my master. Would you like to hear the rules governing my service?"
Ryan was just staring at the almost naked woman who was standing in his living room. She was small, her head coming barely to his mid chest. But her curves proclaimed her all woman, with nicely rounded breasts that were barely covered by the thin vest that left her stomach bare to his eyes. A round purple gem could be seen, winking from her navel. Her legs were encased in sheer bloomers, allowing the lines of her legs to be clearly seen. Her hips were covered in a more opaque fabric but in the light from the window, he thought he caught a faint glimpse of the outline of her sex between her legs.
"Huh?" he said, looking back up into her face and finding himself lost in the amethyst color of her eyes.
"Would you like to know the genie rules, Master?" Laresa said, her tone a little harsh. He'd interrupted her in the middle of having her first orgasm in a century's time and he couldn't get his head around to grasp who she was? She had the right to be a little annoyed.
"Oh," he said, "ah, yeah, sure. Fire away." Ryan walked around the girl, his eyes roaming over every line and curve.
Great, Laresa thought. Another pervert. "I cannot bring anyone back from the dead, Master. I do not have powers that great. I cannot force someone into loving you. I cannot change episodes that deal with wars or major events. I cannot..."
"Sounds like you cannot do a lot of things. What can you do?" He let his hand reach out and touch her hair, feeling the warm silk of it curl around his fingers.
"What would you like me to do, Master?" Laresa said, feeling his fingers playing in her hair, one hand stroking down the line of her back.
"I'd like a steak and baked potato," Ryan said, his hand trailing across her ass, and giving one globe a firm squeeze as if checking it for ripeness.
"Your wish is my command, Master," she said, blinking her eyes and staring over at the table.
Ryan smelled it first. That wonderful meaty smell of steak cooked perfectly, seared on the outside and pink and juicy on the inside. Turning his head, he did a double take, his hand dropping from the girl as he stared at his kitchen table.
What had once been scarred formica was now heavy oak, gleaming and honey colored. A cushioned leather chair sat in front of it. Bone china was placed in front of the chair, along with a platter that was covered by a sterling silver dome. Candles were lit and wine was breathing in a silver wine bucket while crystal glasses gleamed.
"Holy moley," he breathed. Walking carefully over to the table, he reached a shaking hand out to touch the chair first, pulling it away from the table and sitting down slowly. "Fuck me. It's real," he whispered.
"Yes, Master. I hope you like the steak. I took the image of what you wanted and made it real." She went to stand next to Ryan, leaning over to lift the silver dome from the platter, displaying a beautifully cooked piece of meat that had the saliva gathering in his mouth.
"Please, God," he prayed quietly. "If you are going to wake me from this dream, let me eat first." He picked up his silverware and Laresa moved the steak onto his plate, pouring him a glass of the fine red wine and then stepping back and to the side to watch his pleasure.
Ryan smiled as he took in his first forkful of the succulent steak that was cook perfectly. He savored every bite of his delicious meal, finally sitting back against the padded chair and twirling his wine in the crystal wine glass. For the first time he could remember, he was full and content. He turned to say something to Laresa, blinking in surprise as she held out a cigar for him, the tip cut off expertly.
"How did..."
"It was there, in the picture in your mind, Master. The perfect steak dinner is always followed by the perfect cigar." She held out a long wooden match that was already lit and watched as he puffed on the cigar, bowing the smoke out above his head.
"So this is real then?" he asked, staring at her through the smoke.
"I am real, yes Master."
"And I'm allowed three wishes?"
"No, Master. I am your until you break the rules, or until the ring is taken from you. Only the person whose finger wears the ring can command me."
Ryan twisted the gold ring on his finger, setting the cigar down into the crystal ashtray she held out to him. "So I could wish for a penthouse suite on... Whoa!" he shouted as the world around him seemed to spin out of control. He reached out to grab for his table and it wasn't there. Instead, his body sank down onto one of the softest mattresses he'd ever felt. It was covered in satin, sleek and silky around him. He looked up to see Laresa standing next to the mattress, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Will this do, Master?" she asked, gesturing around her with a small bow.
Opulent was the only word that came to mind when Ryan looked around the room. The bed was huge, easily big enough to sleep four comfortably. The room was very masculine with dark colors and leather chairs, thick wide pillows upon the bed and thickly carpeted floors. He sat up, staring around him then reached over and grabbed Laresa, pulling her into his arms and hugging her close in his glee. "I can't believe this. It's mine?" he asked, staring into her beautiful face.
"Yes, Master," she affirmed, grinning up at him. He wasn't like her last master. No, Laresa could look into his soul and see the trueness of the man inside. There was a little blackness on his soul, but that wasn't from meanness. No, it was the cruel and twisted tricks that fate played upon the man that had added that blackness.
Ryan looked down at the loveliness of the young girl. "How old are you?" he asked suddenly.
"I have no knowledge of the passing of time, Master, such as you would know of it. I wasn't and then I was. I have been in that ring for millennia, always at the whim of a Master or Mistress." She looked down at his shirt suddenly, her fingers picking nervously at a spot on the white fabric. She wondered if he would ask. She hoped he would, because only if he asked would she be able to tell him the way to free her from the ring.
"And you grant as many wishes as that Master wants you too?" Ryan laughed suddenly, pushing her off of him to bounce from the bed and throw open the doors he could see. One led to a huge closet full of clothes. He checked one suit and whistled. "My size even," he said, smiling back at Laresa.
Laresa felt a spurt of disappointment that he hadn't asked, but there was still time. She liked this Master. He hadn't yet tried to grab her breast or force her to suck his cock, though she didn't think she'd mind so much if Ryan did.
"I think we need to change and go out for the evening, Laresa. You can change out of that..." he pointed to her genie outfit, "can't you?"
"Yes, Master."
He turned to peruse the closet one more time and whistled again, this time when his eyes fell upon the black tuxedo, hung by itself on a rack. "Swanky threads," he said, leaning in and taking it out. He turned to lay it across the bed, and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Is this what you wished for me to wear, Master?" Laresa asked, a sly smile upon her lush lips.
"Uh, yeah," Ryan said, trying not to swallow his tongue. The blonde beauty had lost the genie look, instead she wore a long sheath of black silk that glittered with thousands of sequins. Her hair was shorter, curling around her face and barely touching her shoulders. At her ears were long diamond earrings that swung beguilingly as she walked. Her legs could be seen with every step she took through a long slit in the front of the gown, looking miles long in the skinny strappy black heels she wore upon her feet.
"Lara, sweetheart, you look..." he held his hands up, unable to come up with a word adequate enough to describe her loveliness. He reached out, touching the diamonds at her ear, slipping the long length over his palm. "Are these the real deal?"
"Yes, Master." She held still as he let the earring slide out of his hand, the back of his fingers slipping over her smooth shoulder and down to the curve of her breast, barely touching the sleek rounded flesh that could be seen above the neckline of her gown. Laresa took a deep breath, feeling those warm fingers brush over her skin. "Master?" she asked, lifting her hand to his chest, watching as he slowly lifted his gaze from the creamy mounds to her violet eyes.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Master? Anything you wish for me to do?" she said huskily, her fingers sliding down over the white shirt he wore, stopping to play with one of the buttons.
"You will do whatever I wish?" he asked, his voice growing deep.
"Oh, yes, Master," she said eagerly.
"Anything?" he asked, his fingers rising to play with the thin straps that held her gown up.
"You have but to wish it to make it my command, Master." Her other hand lifted, pushing the small button through its hole and exposing hard male flesh.
"Then I wish for you to sit and wait over there, I'm going to take a shower," Ryan said, chuckling when he saw the look of confused desire upon her lovely face.
He watched as she stalked away, sitting down with a huff and crossing her arms under her firm, full breasts, making the flesh above jiggle enticingly. It didn't matter, whether woman or genie, a woman disappointed would make that fact known.
He walked into the bathroom whistling one long note when he saw the set up. It was huge, tiled in black and white, the tub was sunken and large enough to fit four people very easily. A shower stood in one corner of the room, etched glass doors closing off the black tiled space that would easily fit two with a multitude of shower heads. Huge fluffy towels sat a top a small bench and the room was riot with green plants. Small French doors led out to a balcony and Ryan couldn't help but step outside to see the view.
It was a dizzying view down to the street level, the cars that were going by seemed little more than children's toys from this height. The lights of New York City spread out before him as if awaiting his every demand and laying down a jeweled carpet of twinkling stars just for him.
"This can't be real," he whispered, crossing his arms over his chest to block some of the chill and staring around him. The view was incredible, the clothing impeccable, and the woman in the other room beyond compare. "YES!" he shouted, feeling as if he ruled the world.
He spun and hurried back into the bathroom to get ready.
It was a much different Ryan Richards that stepped out of the bathroom then went in. Where once he had been stubbled and tattered, he was now clean shaven, his hair slicked back in the latest style. The tuxedo's fit was impeccable, emphasizing his trim, muscular physique honed though years of cat burglaring, the white shirt making his skin appear dark. He finished fixing his cuff link as he walked into the room.
"Good fit, doll."
"Thank you, Master." Laresa rose from where she'd been sitting and walked over to Ryan. Her hands smoothed the fabric of the tux jacket across his shoulders before turning to let him help her into the small fur jacket and then linking her arm in his.
They made their way down to the lobby, stepping outside into the cold air of the evening. Ryan stepped to the curb, ready to hail a taxi when a beautiful limo pulled up in front of him. The driver got out quickly, doffing his hat and holding open the door. "Mr. Richards?"
Ryan looked back at Laresa who smiled. He handed her in, waiting until she moved over in the seat and then slid into elegance. The ride to the Savoy didn't take long, but it was done in style, pulling up to the sidewalk in front of the swinging nightclub with all the fanfare of movie stars. Their door was opened for them and they were swept inside right to the maitre d'.
"Mr. Richards," he exclaimed, his voice warm and welcoming as if Ryan were returning royalty. "We've held your table, sir. It's wonderful to see you, and looking so well, also."
Ryan returned the greeting than glanced over at Laresa to see her smiling smugly. They followed the nattily dressed man to a table that overlooked the huge dance floor. A bottle of champagne was brought to them immediately after being seated, the waiter popping the cork and pouring the sparkling bubbly into two crystal flutes.
As soon as he left, Ryan scooted his chair closer to Laresa's. "You did all of this?"
"Of course, Master."
"But I thought I had to wish it for it to be your command?" he asked, confused as he reached out and took her hand in his, playing with her long fingers almost absentmindedly.
"You wished for a night out, Master. That is what I'm giving you."
"Yeah, you're putting on the ritz, that's for sure."
"Does that mean you approve, Master?" she asked, her smile lighting up her face.
"Oh doll, I definitely approve. But I got one question. How's a palooka like me supposed to afford something like this? I definitely don't have the jack for this joint."
Laresa leaned over and ran her fingers across the front of his tuxedo jacket before reaching inside and pulling out an expensive leather wallet. "Master, you didn't forget your wallet, it is right here," she said, smiling at him as he took it from her. He opened it, whistling when he saw the denomination on the bills.
He stared at it and then stared back at her before putting the money back in his pocket. "I gotta know, you aren't going to up and leave me holding the bag with all of this... ?" he asked holding up his hands. "I mean, this tux alone costs more jack then what I pull in all month."
"I am yours until a rule is broken or until you let go of the ring, Master."
"I think I need to go and make sure that guy that swan dived gets a swanky funeral," Ryan said almost to himself.
Up on the stage, the light grew dim, a woman stepped out, a light shining down on her from up above. She seemed to fit in with the mood of the night, sleek and opulent, her raven black hair curled around her shoulders, her red sequined gown almost blinding in the spot lights.
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