Sex Genie: Pleasing My Master 314 Genie In Her Own Personal Hell

The room she was in was artificially darkened. The blinds were drawn tight, and the curtains drawn in. The room itself was mostly empty, save for one folding chair, that was leaning up against the wall in front of her. Grace looked around, blinking as the tears started to crust against her cheeks. She was in her own form of personal h.e.l.l.

Grace struggled against the Restraint as it dug into her flesh, but it was largely for nothing. No matter how she twisted her arms, there was just no way to wiggle out of the it. She looked down at the odd silvery piece of cuffs that secured her wrists, watching the light green glow that was emitted from them.

When the warden had first put her into the room, she tried everything she could think of to free herself. Energy orbs, being her primary matter of lethal self defense, worked until the Restraint was firmly enclosed upon her.

Now?

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Nothing.

Nothing at all worked. Reaching in for her magical power as she had done so many times in the past had grabbed at nothing but an empty void. She had no defense, no way to disappear, and no master to command her.

Grace started crying anew when her mind drifted to thoughts of Stephen. She winced when she remembered his battered and b.l.o.o.d.y face laying face down in his room, their room. The room where they had made love so many times. She prayed he was alright, and that he could recover from this. In the deepest recesses of her heart, she prayed that he would get over her loss, and find a way to move on.

It wasn't hard to give up, and to accept the fate that was in store for her. She knew what happened when wardens caught their djinn prey. In an entirely odd way, she had already accepted her imminent destruction. For it meant that Stephen had a chance to live, and if that was all that was needed to leave her soul in peace, then she was willing to face her executioner.

Only one small part of her regretted her own fate, and that was the entirely new being that was being created within her womb. Stephen's baby was no more than six weeks old, barely more than a fetus, and yet it pained Grace greatly to know she would never get to raise the child of the man she loved. She rested her cuffed hands across her stomach, praying for a quick and merciful death, and that their baby wouldn't suffer.