The Pearl Witch
by
Theda Hudson
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Lilac Moon Books on Smashwords
The Pearl Witch
Copyright (c) 2007 Theda Hudson
Cover by Laura Givens
Copyright (c) 2011 Laura Givens
http://www.lauragivens-artist.com
Discover other titles by Theda Hudson at Smashwords.com
And at http://www.theahutcheson.com
SMASHWORDS EDITION LICENSE NOTES
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
* * * * *
The Pearl Witch
Chapter 1
Tarin looked across the cramped office completely filled with two oak desks and four large black filing cabinets. Max sat in his chair, working over the latest sales contract. He was silver haired now and he’d gained a lot of weight over the last year. She looked to wall. He had a ton of sales awards and Optimist Club recognition plaques. He was a big fish in this little pond of a town.
Was this going to be her life? She couldn’t, wouldn’t live it. She’d do anything to save herself from being the next big fish swimming in this desperately small and conservative pond.
Lord preserve me. I have to get out.
"What’s up, Tarin? Why the big sigh?"
She hadn’t realized she’d sighed.
"Nothing, Max," she said, looking across the office to her boss’s desk. "Just a long day."
"Before you go, I need to talk to you," Max said.
This didn’t sound good.
"Mona’s tired of Lone Pine. The grandkids have all graduated now. She wants more excitement."
Tarin could appreciate that. The small plains town was not very busy, unless you counted Bingo and high school basketball and football games.
"We found a place in Cocoa Beach, down in Florida. We closed two weekends ago. Her niece is going to move into the house.
"I kept pressing you to get your license so you could take over here, but I can see you aren't interested."
Not in the least. The job here at Max’s real estate office had been a way to pay the bills while she cared for her grandmother.
"I figure you need a push to get on with your life too, now that your gramma’s gone to her rest. I’m closing the office in a month and giving all my accounts to Bob over in Agate. So you have to do something."
Something? Yes, like find a job in Denver.
"A month?"
She looked at her desk, cluttered with contracts, closing statements, title requests, and, on the corner, a picture of her and her grandmother right after she’d moved back home after graduation.
The little white haired woman had a twinkle in her eye and one hand on Tarin’s arm. Tarin had laid her hand over her grandmother’s and another on her shoulder.
How had the time moved so fast? It was now six months since she’d died and her Tarin was, coasting.
Well, not anymore. She’d have to figure out something.
"Wow, Max. That’s fast."
"Yeah, Mona doesn’t waste any time once she figures out what she wants.
Which made Tarin think of what she wanted.
To move. To move away. To move to something more exciting more fulfilling than this job and the sexcapades with Chris.
Chris. "Oh, God."
"You okay?"
"I just remembered I have a date. I’ll start thinking of what needs to be done and we can talk again tomorrow."
"You've been great to me, Tarin. I know how hard you work and all the things you did when I was down. You’ll find something more interesting with better pay. You just have to move on down the road, like north to Denver."
Yeah, Denver. She rose, walking over to lay a hand on his arm. "I know you and Mona’ll be happy down there. Don’t worry about me."
"I know. You go on now. Have a nice evening, we’ll talk tomorrow."
An hour later she was cutting salad in the bright yellow kitchen, a breeze ruffling the pale butter colored curtains over the sink and carrying the sound and smell of the pork chops sizzling on the grill outside.
Chris tapped his signature "shave and a haircut, six bits" knock at the front door.
"Come on in," she called. "Hey, can you flip the chops?" she asked when he’d made his way into the kitchen.
He put his arms around her and kissed her. His lips were firm and full and she loved the way they gave when she pushed her mouth against them. His tongue was wet and tasted of beer.
He nuzzled her neck. "I can flip you, right into bed."
She laughed, squirming away.
"Later, mind the chops."
"I am," he leered, smacking his lips.
She shook her head. His jokes are so dumb. But he fucks like nobody’s business. That makes up for everything else.
At least so far.
"Go on with you, please."
He laughed and went out.
Dinner was good, the chops were perfect. He could grill, as well as drill.
He poured more wine and hung around the kitchen watching her as she washed dishes and wiped up.
"Ready?" he asked when she put the hand towel on the rack. He handed her a fresh glass of wine. It was a good red, not right for pork, but it had a rich flavor with none of the sour overtones she usually disliked in reds. She sipped again and flicked Chris’ hair off his shoulder. It was brown and wavy, just shoulder length and she hated it.
Okay, she loved his hair, the color, the weight, the way it felt and looked between her fingers, smooth with golden highlights, but she hated the hippy-dippy California style. "Yeah, bring the bottle," she said. "This is really good wine."
"Yeah," he said as he followed her to the bedroom. "The liquor store guy said it makes the chicks’ panties fly right off. Guess he’s right."
"I don’t know about fly, but I am certainly going to peel them off."
"Aw, I thought I would get to do that."
"Well, if you feel so strongly about it…"
She hated this part, his stupid banter. All she wanted was to get his clothes off and feel up his body, strong and lithe and warm with maleness and life.
He was very well built. Tall and not too lean, but not fat either, although, if she really thought about it, she could see it that way in ten or fifteen years.
She pushed those thoughts away. They weren't fair to him and they'd ruin the moment. Sipping at the wine again, she savored the taste in her mouth, holding it there so she got the full effect. When she swallowed, she pulled his face down to her and kissed him deeply.
Yes, the rising ambergris flavor mixed in with the wine. It tasted like something thick, earthy, old. She had no idea what ambergris actually tasted like. She just knew it was an ingredient in old perfumes, some kind of whale by-product, but it sounded exotic and the word fit what she tasted.
The taste of first rate sex.
It always rose immediately now when she thought about sex.
His hands stroked her skin. She had been taking care to keep it lotioned.
The smell of that lotion, delicately flowery, rose up now that he had pulled her shirt off.
Chris groaned as he cupped her breasts. "You always feel so good."
It would feel better if his hands weren’t so rough. She’d put Jergens on his hands one day, but he’d about had a cow.
"That’s for fags. I’m a man," he’d said.
She reached for the glass and drained it before turning back to him. He clenched the hair at the nape of her neck the way she liked. It made her feel weak, no, it was like a switch turned everything off, the way a kitten became limp and compliant when you scruffed it.
Her left hand tingled, and briefly she wondered again if she had carpal tunnel or something, but then he pulled her head back and worked her mouth while he unhooked her bra and slid one hand up underneath it to lift a breast. She arched her back and pressed her sex into his hard on.
He growled and pinched her nipple hard. The pain turned into a delicious spike of pleasure that drove straight between her legs. She struggled to breathe in the midst of such delight and felt the peculiar downshifting in her lower belly she'd felt in the last month and the lightness in her head that became a buzz when he pushed her back on the bed and pushed her silky skirt up her legs. It felt naughty this way, and she squirmed under a new onslaught of pleasure. He slid a finger up under one side of her panties and she opened her eyes to see him staring intently at her, a wicked smile on his face.
"You break it, you buy it."
He smiled wider and yanked. The thin material tore and the release of tension in the elastic triggered something inside her, let it loose. Her eye was caught by a glint behind him and as she shifted, she saw that it was her right hand. It was glowing again. When it first started last month, it had been a haze across her palm -- a pale sapphire haze brushed with gold highlights, but tonight it sparkled a brilliant blue with a gold halo. She realized that is was making her hand tingle while her pussy thrummed in sympathy.
Chris pulled the other side, flipped the panties away, and knelt, holding her down, spreading her thighs as he inserted his tongue into the cleft between her thighs.
It was warm and wet and incredibly hard as he probed and laved. She lay back on the bed, her glowing fingers entwined in his hair, holding his head to her, pressing it down when he threatened to pull away, to leave off.
He laughed in her cunt and the vibration made her push her hips up to him frantically.
"You want it, baby, don’t you? You want my tongue, my cock, but you don’t want me, do you, Tarin?
Later, later, later, she thought.
"What? I want you. I want you right now."
"Yeah? Well, I am going to have you. I’m going to have you the way I want."
"What? What do you mean?"
In answer, he flipped her over roughly and hauled her hips up so she bent over the bed, her legs pressing against the mattress. He thrust into her hard, hitting that spot and she groaned in pleasure. He grasped her breast in one hand and the back of her hair in another and rode her, just like a jockey, Tarin thought.
She found a rhythm that allowed deeper penetration, just missing that spot. She spread her legs a little wider, no, that didn’t help.
When she lowered herself to her elbows it made an immediate difference, another growling downshift. Chris let go of her nipple and laid his weight on her, his breath harsh and sharp as he struggled to take them up to the crest of the mountain.
Tarin licked her lips, tasting Chris and the ambergris.
The slap of flesh on flesh and the squishy noises were loud as he drove her up the hill, the breeze through window moaning a counterpart. Tarin’s head, filled with the buzz now, made music of it all. The music of sex, the accompaniment to their journey.
Chris was brushing that spot now with every stroke, but it wasn’t enough. Greedy thing! Tarin pressed her face into the pillow, pushed it away when suffocation threatened, and lifted her ass, straining to open for him. It helped, but not enough. They weren’t climbing up the mountain anymore, just hanging at a spot near the top.
She was caught, limp with pleasure between her fingers rubbing her clit and him driving into her.
The buzz in her head grew to a din, the smack of flesh and the whooshing of their hoarse breathing filled her head, her nose with the smell of their efforts, the flowers outside the window, the candle, the sachet, and everything downshifted again, rolling up the incline like a tractor finding purchase in moist, rich soil.
Chris shifted his right hand and Tarin took one of his fingers in her mouth, delighting in the way that it mimicked his eager hardness in her soft moistness.
"Am I gettin’ it for you, Snow White?"
The nickname made her smile. She did look like Snow White -- her black hair spread out over the sheets, pale skin blushing red with desire, and red lips swollen with pleasure. But he was no Prince Charming, she thought. Too rough and definitely lacking in charm, but in this moment, charm didn’t matter. What mattered was what he was doing with her pussy.
Her right hand was on fire with cobalt sparks of light jumping off them and floating up to the ceiling, bright in the dim light of the bedside lamp.
As she got closer to coming, the sparks got bigger, brighter, like fire. It felt like a little sun of burning pleasure sat in her palm. She shook it.
Why doesn’t he see?
Chris began to moan, his hips shifted, and everything rose to another level altogether.
Sex before now had never been like this. Chris always created a burning, mounting sense of expectation, an impending explosion like nothing she had ever felt before.
A door opened deep inside her just then, revealing depths of ecstasy she had never imagined.
"Yes, please, Chris, keep doing that." She lifted her hips, her feet making treading motions on the floor as she strove to climb with him, to position herself better.
Her pleasure downshifted again to climb the final hill to the climax. A throaty purr filled the room and Tarin realized she was making the noise. She was eager to reach the top but forced herself to stop thinking about the destination and just enjoy the ride.
Her right hand felt thick and hot and she shook it again as they ground their way to the top, spilling a cascade of brilliant blue sparks throughout the room. She and Chris fell over the edge, coming at the same time. A great blaze of blue gold light flew off her hand and through the wall.
She stared in a daze at the spot where the ball had disappeared, completely drained, when Chris let her go.
"See, that’s what you want," he said, his voice hoarse. "You want me to fuck you. You don’t care about me. I never went to college and I haven’t got the smarts you have, but I have a cock and I know how to fuck you."
She rolled over ready to deny it, but knew it was true.
"I’m okay with it, Tarin," he said. "I really am, but if you want this," he gestured to his still hard cock, "it’ll be my way, when I want, where I want, how I want. Got it?"
He stared at her, his mouth hard and cruel, an odd light in his eyes.
She stared back, not answering. After a moment, he dressed, took out his wallet and threw a ten on the bed.
"There. Buy yourself new panties. Make ‘em pretty, a G-string, blue, yeah, I like blue, and see through."
He turned and left.
Tarin crawled up on the bed. What had just happened?
Chapter 2
Merrill Trakisson turned to look out over Denver from his corner office on the thirty-sixth floor of the Kilburn Tower. The late afternoon sun shone brightly on the tops of the buildings marching toward the south. Shadows pooled around their ground floors, creating an Escher-like contrast that pleased him.
The small clutch of buildings that made up downtown Denver along the Cherry Creek rapidly gave way to one- and two-story buildings toward the south, dotted here and there with taller office buildings and condo complexes. He followed that pattern to the Tech Center, another cluster of taller buildings. South of that, newer developments scattered past the horizon.
If he extended his vision into the spectral realm, he could see her house, a sapphire patch of just released sexual energy surrounded by a golden halo. He knew what it would smell like-- rich soil, ancient life, full of energy he would harvest to complete the plan.
Trakkison imagined her lying exhausted in her bed, curled around her lover, sodden with pleasure, bedewed with effort, dark hair strewn across the bed, contrasting with the white sheets, her pale skin, her red lips bruised with pleasure.
Just like her mother. He’d been waiting for this moment for over twenty-five years. Waiting ever since the bitch had ruined his plans, committing suicide rather than yield to him.
He shook his head. Shelley had thought it ended with her, that she’d ruined the plan. Ignorant human. She’d never known that the power followed from mother to child.
Yes, she’d given him set backs, and forced him to manifest another persona, this time as his own son, a tall, blond man, as muscular as he’d been lean the last time. This time he’d settled for a look in his late thirties, old enough to look experienced but still young enough to appeal to a young woman in the full blush of womanhood.
A smile quirked at his mouth. The bitch mother had actually done him a favor. The extra years had taught him greater subtlety around manipulating humans, keeping them in the dark. They were so much easier to manage when they were ignorant. But they were cunning, too, making it necessary to constantly work at knowing what they knew. Yes, ignorant, but not stupid, best to remember that.
He picked up the phone and dialed. The phone hummed and clicked as he manipulated electrons and photons. The line crackled for a long moment and then he focused his will, clearing the reception across the void between the two universes.
A voice full of hope and burdened by fear answered. "Yes, Trakisson? You have a report?"
"She’s fully awakened," he said with a voice sharp like a dagger, slick like poison on the blade.
"Good. The cannon is being prepared?"
"I expect all the manufacturing to be completed within six months."
"Good. How will you get her into position?"
"I won’t need to do much. She’s like her mother. The power will drive her to find opportunities. There’re few in the little town she lives in. She’ll hunger for experience. I’ll maneuver her here so she cangto find it."
"And you’ll keep track of her."
"I’m aware of her every moment. I smell her power, her essence like a hound to the hunt."
"Which is what you are. Don’t forget the prize in your eagerness for the hunt."
"I am my people's servant, as always."
"Yes, you are and you shall be rewarded for your work."
"Thank you, Master Planner. You are generous."
"Generous if you succeed. We’ve invested a fortune in energy to move you, not once, but twice, across the vale. Fail as you did before, and we’ll all pay."
Trakisson shivered, thinking of Riyanya’s beautiful energy pattern torn to bits.
"I will succeed, Master."
"Keep me apprised of your progress."
"Yes, Master."
The phone went dead, except for hissing on the line.
Merrill hung up and turned back to the orange splotch on the horizon. He’d been waiting a long time for this moment. His lips twitched as he thought of the delightful task ahead of him. He’d take a raw sex witch and hone her to a powerful tool.
This time he wouldn't waste time on manifesting lessons. Just her brute strength, that was all he needed. And it would be easier to control her.
Oh, the pleasure of the work he would do with her to build her power up. He moaned, thinking of the sweet energy he would store for his reunion with Riyanya. His human body’s cock rose up hard and eager to begin seducing Tarin Peterson.
Chapter 3
Tarin lay on the bed struggling against sleep, trying to understand what had just happened. Had she been so obvious? Chris was a swell guy, and, yes, she considered him to be an average Joe in the smarts, and there were his dumb jokes.
He was good looking, though, and the man could get busy.
Was she that shallow? Or was she that desperate? She felt bad for him and ashamed that she'd used him like that even as she remembered what they'd done together.
Lone Pine Junction was a small town on the southern edge of Denver’s encroaching metroplex. At first, when she came back to take care of her grandmother after graduation, she’d been completely involved with her care. There had been tons to do, shopping, housework, and caretaking.
But when it was over and all the proverbial dust had settled, well, it had gotten boring. It wasn’t just the limited guy selection either. The job at Max’s real estate office had gotten boring too, if it had ever been challenging.
It was just as well that he was closing the office. She'd considered getting her license when he'd broached it, but the prospect of driving people from here to kingdom come in the hopes that they'd buy a house didn’t appeal to Tarin at all.
No, this was just the kick in the ass she needed to get something new. And there was only one place to get it. She was going to have to move to Denver. There’d be more guys, too, just as handsome, but better educated with better jobs, a better match for her.
Tarin was just falling asleep when the loud wail of a siren jolted her back awake. It sounded like it was just next door. She realized she smelled smoke and fear rolled her out of bed and to the window where she lifted the shade. It was next door her neighbor’s house was on fire.
She threw clothes on quickly and ran outside, the lethargy completely gone with the adrenaline rush of fear that flooded her.
Tarin was just reaching the front yard when the firemen started pushing everyone back. Jack and his wife, Eileen, were standing on the sidewalk. Jack held Muffin, their Pomeranian, while Eileen held Pi, their piebald cat.
"What happened?"
"I don’t know," Eileen said, watching as the firemen sprayed water over everything. The fire crackled, whipped by the breeze, and hissed where the water hit it. Thick, black smoke roiled in the halogen lights mounted on the fire trucks.
"I saw it," said Roman, the neighbor from across the street. "Well, part of it. I saw something out of the corner of my eye. When I turned, this big blue fireball hit the corner of the house," he said pointing at the corner closest to Tarin’s bedroom.
Tarin sucked wind remembering the whooshing bright ball as it flew off her hands when she was coming. Could it have been real?
No, she thought firmly. But the fire burned brightly, resisting the efforts to extinguish it. They finally got it under control. Tarin stayed with her neighbors until the firemen called it good.
"Can we go back in?" Eileen asked.
"No, ma’am," one of them said. "This is a crime scene until we figure out what started it."
Tarin's heart leaped in her chest.
"Oh come on," Eileen said. "We’ve got to get some clothes and stuff. And Muffin needs her special food."
The man looked at his colleagues. "Okay. I’ll go in with you. But make it quick."
"Do you want to come over, guys?" Tarin asked.
"No, we’ll go to my sister’s," Eileen said. Jack made a face behind her and Tarin resisted smiling.
"Okay. Hey, I’m really sorry this happened. At least it doesn’t look too bad."
"Thanks, kid," Jack said. "At least we all got out okay. The rest is just stuff, you know."
Tarin turned and saw a man across the street, watching them, no, her. All she could tell in the dark was that he was tall and thin. When he saw her, he took a step toward her, then walked away quickly down the street.
She watched him until he turned the corner. When she went into her house, she found one last glass of wine in the bottle and poured it.
Who was the man?
Had she started the fire?
And why had he been watching?
The whole thing was crazy. How could she have made a fire ball fly off her hands?
The sex, that was how. It was different, since she started tasting ambergris. She’d never had sex the way she and Chris had. It was intense. It was the best ever. Even now, thinking about him got her riled up again.
She really dug the way his earthy masculine smell combined with the Aqua cologne he wore, the taste of his mouth tinged with wine, the feel of his hard muscles, his fingers on her tender flesh, his growling moan in her ear, full of need for her, when he worked her really hard, oh yes. That was something to get riled up about.
But why? Why was he any different from any other guy? He wasn’t special. Was he? Why should he get her so crazy?
Good questions. And she had no answer. She took the wine to the bedroom with her and lay in bed sipping it, trying to understand why he was so different.
"Chemistry," she said. "That has to be it. The ambergris is just an effect of pure animal chemistry, cuz God knows there’s nothing else."
Which made her remember his last words to her.
How dare he use her like that? How dare he fuck her and then tell her he knew what was up and buy some new panties, blue and see through, just like that? She snapped her fingers for emphasis.
Yeah, how dare he? It was a really shitty thing to do.
Actually, if she was honest, what she’d been doing was pretty shitty. She’d been using him for pleasure. Okay, their mutual pleasure. And it wasn’t like they’d spoken about anything more than dating. Things had been too new for that.
No, they hadn’t spoken about it, but they had been trying each other out. Three weeks of getting together for dinner, for a game of pool, a movie. And randy sex that just got more and more intense.
It was definitely not fair to him. But she’d only just decided there wasn’t any future for them. Before, she hadn’t actually decided, not consciously anyway. But unconsciously she’d known she disliked enough about him that it came through in the way she treated him.
"Shit," Tarin said to the empty room. She finished off the glass and turned off the bedside table lamp. She couldn’t help the finger that slipped between her legs. She didn’t stop herself from replaying the evening’s fun either
She barely saw the faint glow that built along her left hand as it caressed her breast, flowed up from her toes and down from the crown of her head to pool the palm of her right hand, a blue ball with a golden halo.
She came just as he threw the money down and told her to buy panties, blue and see through, just the way he liked ‘em.
The ball shot away through the ceiling.
"Oh, well," she thought sleepily. "At least it went up this time."
Chapter 4
Trakkison picked up the phone.
"Trakkison here."
"Merrill, Kathy from Precision Recruiting. You know that woman, Tarin Peterson? I got a resume from her. You said you wanted to know."
"Hey, Kathy, good to hear from you. That’s great about Tarin, too."
"Do you have any particular jobs you want her placed in, you know, industries or companies?"
Trakkison smiled. It didn’t matter what the witch did. She had only one purpose.
"You just do what you think is best."
"She has a good resume. I mean, college and just the one job, which she’s held for a couple of years."
"Yes, I wouldn’t expect anything else."
"Huh?"
Trakkison frowned. Stupid bitch. Couldn’t she just do what he asked? Was it necessary to pry?
"I mean she’s smart and mature."
"Oh. Well, I’ve got a few jobs to fill. I’ll talk to her and see what shakes out. Shall I let you know if I place her?"
"Drop me an email, would you?"
"Sure. You wanna get together for a drink?"
Trakkison considered. She’d been helpful and was a very good bottom. It would be nice to work off some of the tension he’d been under since the witch’s awakening.
"That would be good. Friday? We could have a drink and go over to the club"
"That would be fine."
He could hear the tremble of excitement in her voice. He’d do what he could to make it worthwhile for both of them.
"I got a new toy," she said. "It would be great if you tried it out."
Kathy was into floggers. She had an impressive collection and could take a lot of pain. Her only rule was no blood. He smiled. There was a lot he could do without letting any blood.
"Well, then I’m looking forward even more."
"Where do you want to meet?"
"Paulson’s." It was close enough to the club and had a reasonable amount of panache for something on that side of town.
"Nine, same as usual?"
"Yes. And get a private room, will you?"
Trakkison remembered the heat of her sex, her pain, mixed in with the bleach that permeated the club. He could feel the ridges on her flesh where the flogger had been at work.
"Yes, sir."
He heard the rush of her pleasure and the flood of submissiveness in her voice as she understood the extent of the pleasures he intended with a private room.
"See you Friday," he said with real warmth in his voice. "Wear the red one."
"Yes, sir."
He hung up the phone and smiled. She was fun and the red corset showed off the ruddy apples of her ass really well once he got her warmed up.
But for now there was work to do. He needed the witch ready in less than six months. His home universe was dissolving rapidly. This was his people’s last chance to save themselves.
He couldn’t afford to fail again.
He’d learned a great deal from his failure with her mother. And his side plan to seize control in this world, this universe, would advance in step with the opening of the portal.
And there was much to be done. Kathy would be a nice reward and a good pressure valve. When he got her into subspace, he could even try to contact Riyanya. Now that would be a reward.
Smiling, Trakkison turned back to work.
Chapter 5
Tarin flopped down on the brown nubby couch, glass in her hand. It had been a good day. A couple of the resumes she’d sent out last week had born fruit. Max had smiled when she’d told him she needed a vacation day to go to Denver.
The recruiter, Kathy Talbot, had been very nice. She’d run Tarin through the admin tests -- software, ten-key, typing. Tarin was a whiz at software and knew she’d aced that part. Ten-key was another thing all together. She and numbers had never been that tight.
Kathy had said that was okay. She was considering Tarin for executive assistant type positions. That was exciting. It was more than she'd hoped for, and meant more money, maybe more interesting tasks, and, best of all, working downtown.
She loved downtown Denver. It was bustling, exciting, filled with all kinds of activities and interesting people. She thought it would also be a great place to find a date, or even possibly, a boyfriend. That would be cool.
The thought of a boyfriend made her think of Chris. She’d felt so bad about last week that she’d called him, asked if he wanted to come over tonight.
And not because she was a mess of desire, either, although, maybe he would take pity on her and help her out there, too.
"You are pathetic. Such a whore, a horndog, a slut."
She took a healthy swig of the fruity, dark red wine, just as the sharp knock at the door made her jump. Wine spilled down her chin and onto her tank. She spluttered as the rest went down the wrong pipe.
Chris opened the door, an open beer in one hand, the rest of the six pack in the other. "I think there is something to be said for being a horndog."
He was in the door before Tarin could object or get her breath back. He was already sitting on her couch, swigging out of the beer he’d brought in with him when she recovered enough to take a small sip of wine to soothe her throat.
"You look good. You going out?"
"No, I was out," she said. "I had a day of vacation and went to Denver."
"Have a good time?"
She nodded.
"Wanna have a good time with me?"
He leered at her and she shook her head thinking how dumb he was, how trite. Then he was pulling her up and off the couch and his lips were on hers, his hand cupping her breast, pinching her nipple through the bra.
He tasted of beer which mixed with her wine and the rising ambergris. She put up one hand against his chest, feeling his muscles under the cotton button down shirt he wore.
"Damn, woman, you can kiss. You make me hard with one kiss."
Tarin smiled; it was true, his chinos were tented.
He ran his hands all over her body as he kissed her again. She gave in. There was just something about him. And what could it hurt?
He had her skirt pulled up, feeling her ass, and nuzzling her neck when she heard a timid knock. Flustered, she pulled away from Chris and tried to compose herself to answer the door, but Chris beat her there.
Another man stepped in. Chris raised a hand to forestall her.
"Mick, meet Tarin."
"Is this okay?" the man asked. He was tall, thin, like a basketball player, short dirty-blond hair scuffed up in different directions like he’d just gotten out of bed. He had a little goatee and piercing green eyes.
"Yeah, I just got her warmed up."
"What?" Tarin asked, feeling a little fear, indignation, and a core of intrigued warmth.
Chris turned to her. "I’ve been tellin’ him how hot you are and it got me to thinkin’. I remember how we talked about a threesome."
"But that was all it was."
"It always is until it happens. Mick here, he likes the idea of a hot woman who can’t get enough."
Tarin blushed. "This is outrageous, Chris."
"Yeah, it is, isn’t it?" he said, coming back to kiss her deeply, holding her tightly. "Come on, baby, how many other times will you get to make it with two studs who just want to enjoy you?" he whispered in her ear.
His breath was warm where it puffed against her flesh. His hands were lazy, but strong where they caressed her back, her hips, cupped her ass.
She should say no. It was crazy, but the taste of ambergris in her mouth was strong and her skin tingled, especially her left hand.
Chris was pushing his hips against her and she pushed back.
"That’s my girl."
He let go of her and poured more wine. She took the proffered glass and tipped it at Mick shyly. He smiled back and she sipped. Chris stepped behind her and started nuzzling her neck again. She moaned and groaned when he cupped both breasts.
Mick pulled a bottle out of the six pack and opened it. After a swig he came over to them. He stared at her a long time and finally brushed a hair away from her face.
Chris held her, cupping her tits, pressing against her ass, showing her off. Mick leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth. His lips were cold and wet from the beer, but firm and she pushed against them.
Encouraged, Mick worked her mouth, sneaking his tongue between her teeth. Ambergris flooded her mouth and she could feel her face and shoulders flush.
Mick let a finger slide across her throat and down to her breast. He stroked it lightly to see what she would do and, when she arched her back, became more confident, kneading the flesh through her shirt.
"Here, let me help." Chris reached around and Mick stepped back to watch him pull her shirt up over her head and unclasp the hook at the front of the bra. Her breasts fell free and Mick sucked in his breath.
"Beautiful," he whispered and took the glass from her before bending down to take her right nipple gently in his mouth. The flesh around her nipple crinkled and she sighed as he suckled it. He took the other one in his hand and slid the free hand around her ribs to hold her where he wanted her.
Chris took that moment to hike her skirt again and slip one finger into her panties.
"Oh, you like this, don’t you, Tarin? If you like this, you’re gonna love what I have in mind."
"Uh," Tarin said, enthralled and feeling like she hung on a hook, helpless but to enjoy the sensations of the two men.
Chris let Mick carry on like that for a few moments and said, "Suck his cock, Tarin."
"What?"
"You heard me. The pleasure goes both ways. We do you, you do us. I want to watch you suck Mick’s cock. I wanna see you on your knees, takin’ his cock into that beautiful mouth of yours. I wanna see your ass lift up in the air as you bend over to take him."
Mick groaned and Tarin smiled at the pleasure the image brought him. In truth, she would like to go down on him.
"Okay."
"See, I told you she would."
Tarin felt shame in the midst of all the pleasure they had given her. She wanted to stop, but need, need for what these men would give her wouldn’t let her say the words.
Mick pulled his pants and boxers down, sat on the couch and slipped a condom over his hard on.
When Tarin knelt in front of him, he groaned and shook his head. "You are so beautiful. You’re even more hot than he said you’d be."
She bent down over him and took him in her mouth. He was long, not as thick as Chris, and she had to work to handle him. Mick reached up tentatively and put his hand on the back of her head, guiding her, encouraging her. She found the angle and he began to pump against her mouth.
Her skirt was still hiked up and Chris began to finger her again. She lifted her ass, striving to stay in position for Mick, but allow Chris as much access as possible.
He pulled her panties down her thighs, not as exciting as ripping them, but naughtier. Her left hand was tingling where it supported her and she shook it a little. A flush covered her torso and up into her face.
This was hot. Never in her life had Tarin imagined two guys would be so exciting. The smell of sex, musky and thick, rose up around her and ambergris filled her mouth. She felt lightheaded, her head full of an insistent buzz.
She heard the sound of Chris’ zipper and moaned. He slapped her on the ass and she jumped, nearly biting Mick in surprise.
"Hey," she said. "Careful there."
"Yeah, be careful," Mick said. "That’s my dick in her mouth."
"It’s just so round and shakin’ so nice. I just couldn’t resist."
"Well, she’s gonna make me come here, so can it."
Her flesh smarted where he had smacked it, smarted, but felt warm too, especially when Chris laid his hand on it as he slipped into her.
They worked out a rhythm that allowed everyone to enjoy themselves. Mick held her head tightly and worked her mouth up and down on his cock until he came, with a loud cry.
Chris pulled out and began to smack her, right on the center of her ass, not too hard, but hard enough that she could feel the tingle and the warmth grow until it joined the buzz in her head.
He entered her again and fucked her furiously while she leaned into Mick, who pinched her nipples lazily. She put one hand down and played with herself. She felt the familiar down shifting that signaled the final climb up the hill to climax.
Just as they were falling over it, Mick said, "Hey, what’s that?"
Tarin opened her eyes as she came.
"You, you’re covered in light."
"I don't see anything. Hold on, I'm coming," Chris said.
She looked at herself through the waves of pleasure and saw the blue gold glow that she had noticed before. So he saw it too.
Even as she wondered why could he see it and not Chris, she began to come. She finished and drew her hand away from her pussy with a flourish. A ball of blue gold light flew off of her hand, straight through the room and out the side window. A moment later there was an explosive "Whoosh."
"What the fuck?" Mick said and pushed Tarin out of the way and Chris pulled out, both men struggling for pants.
Tarin pulled her panties up and pushed her skirt down. Mick was the first at the window.
"Holy shit, the tree’s on fire."
Tarin and Chris reached the window and looked out. The tree, an old oak, was burning fiercely.
Mick turned to her. "How did you do that?"
"I didn’t do it," Tarin said.
"Yes, you did, I saw you. You were covered in this blue glow, then it went down your arm, and when you flipped your hand, the fire flew off and out the window. Now the tree is on fire."
He inspected the window. "No damage here though. That is fuckin' weird."
Why was he so different that he could see it?
Tarin pulled on her shirt, ran outside, and turned the hose on it, knowing that it was hopeless. The tree was fully engulfed and burning hot enough that she could feel the heat on her cheeks. Hot embers and gray smoke was drifting on the evening breeze and drove her back.
The wail of the fire engine dopplered closer and then it was there, men jumping out.
The same fireman from the other night gestured her back. She obeyed, pulling the hose after her and turning it off. She retreated back toward the house and saw a man watching from across the street. He was lean and tall, in his fifties with brown hair and a sharp face.
He met her gaze levelly and then looked at the burning tree and back to her. She flushed, thinking that he knew, that he, too, had seen the blue ball.
She retreated into the house. Was it the same man as the night Jack and Eileen’s house had burned? What was he doing watching her? Was he a peeping Tom? Had he seen what they were doing?
No, the curtains were closed. He couldn't have seen, but she couldn't shake the conviction that he had seen the fireball.
Mick and Chris had beers and were sitting on the porch, watching the firemen put the fire out, when she summoned the courage to go back out. "That’s wild, man," Chris was saying. Mick just looked at her.
Tarin didn’t know what to say. If she had done it, it meant that she’d set Eileen and Jack’s house on fire too. But how could she have done it?
She was afraid that she knew -- well, didn’t know, but had a suspicion. It had to do with the ambergris and the downshifting and the tingling feeling in her hand and the blue gold light.
She looked at Mick and Chris, unsure what to do. It would be very awkward if Mick told the fire department what he’d seen. Even if they didn’t believe him, and there was no burn spot, either in the living room or the bedroom, it would subject her to a lot of attention.
Chris solved the problem for her.
"Just don’t say nothin’, man. I have no desire to get wrapped up with the fire department or the cops. Neither do you. We were just socializing and heard the noise. That’s the truth."
Mick flushed and looked down. "Yeah, okay, but it’s still fuckin’ weird. What are you anyway, some kind of witch?"
Tarin just stared at him, unwilling to admit her ignorance and unable to summon any kind of snappy comeback.
When the fire was out, one of the firemen came over. He took their names and notes down in a notebook. They handled it just like Chris had said. Tarin was glad they were outside. The light breeze dissipated the sex smell. She didn’t want the man to know she’d been engaged in a threesome. A threesome was exciting, but she felt lingering shame.
"Funny thing, two fires near your house," he said.
Tarin shrugged. "Why don't you ask the man across the street?"
"What man?"
"I saw him there," she said, pointing to where he’d been standing. "When Eileen's house burned down. He was here just a little while ago. He walked off that direction." She gave him the description.
The man looked at her for a long moment, then turned to the men. She thought Mick was going to blow it; what did he have to hide anyway?
The sun set and Chris looked at the glow on the horizon. "Gotta go, man. You too, early shift at the warehouse tomorrow."
"Well, thanks, guys," Tarin said.
"Yeah, it was fun, we’ll have to do it again," Chris said, pecking her on the cheek.
"Yeah, soon," Mick said, smiling.
The fireman looked at her closely. Tarin flushed and looked away.
"Thanks, sir. Thanks, for putting out the fire."
"You sure you didn’t see anything?" he asked, when the guys had driven away.
Tarin smiled. He thought the guys had done it and she was covering.
"Yes, sir, I’m sure I didn’t see anything except for that guy."
He looked at her doubtfully.
"Well, if you think of something else, call me. Here’s my card."
She took it, wishing it was under other circumstances. Maybe she could wait until things blew over and find another reason to call. Coffee, maybe?
"You are an incorrigible slut," she told herself as she went in and closed the door. "Besides, what if this doesn’t blow over, what if it’s just the beginning? I can’t go around throwing balls of fire every time I have sex."
She picked up the wine glass, refilled it, and flopped down on the couch. That reminded her, at least the guys had both put their condoms in the small trash can she kept under the side table. She got up to empty it.
She needed help, she thought as she went to the kitchen. She needed to talk to somebody. She didn’t really have any girl friends from school anymore. They’d all moved out of Lone Pine Junction after graduation. Tarin was only here because she’d come home to take care of her grandmother.
But there was one woman. And she’d be perfect. Aunt Carol’d been a friend of her mother’s. Tarin hadn’t talked to her for a long time, but she was sure that it’d be okay.
She came back, cleaned up the living room, took a shower, and refilled the glass when she came back out, wearing a pair of yoga pants and a cami, hair up in a towel.
She dialed. "Carol, hey, it’s Tarin. How’re things? Good. How are they for me? Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about. How about tomorrow? Lunch, that’d be great. At the Peach Blossom? Thanks, I’ll see you there."
She hung up the phone. That’d been easy. Now the hard part. What would she say to her?
Chapter 6
Merrill watched Kathy pull in beside him in the parking lot. She was lucky to find a place; it was getting full. The club’s demo was over and folks were arriving for the party.
Dominion House was a large, two story, red brick colonial building with white pillars and trim. It stood out from the other industrial buildings along the river in Sherwood.
A cop stood outside the door, not checking IDs, but watching who went in.
Clubs like these were legal, but socially unacceptable. The cops were there ostensibly to watch for drugs and fights, but Trakkison suspected they got their kicks on the side.
He got out and opened Kathy’s car door, helped her out, pulled the bag out of the back seat. She locked the car and Merrill took her arm to escort her into the foyer, where they showed their drivers licenses and membership cards. She hung back, eyes down, playing the dutiful sub. The door maid gave him a key and said, "Number Fifteen, controls on the wall, call if you need help."
Trakkison opened the door into the clubhouse and loud music spilled out, pushed by waves of sweat, sex, and bleach scent.
They entered a large room, lit mostly by tiny white Christmas lights and ropes of colored lights running along the tops of the walls. It was filled with people sitting among comfortable couches and overstuffed chair groupings and wandering between them.
Some of them wore fetish wear, some street clothes, some nothing but harnesses and collars. To their left a table spread with food backed onto a wet bar serving juice and soft drinks.
Kathy fit in wearing the crimson brocade corset over a leather skirt and a vest topped with a jean jacket. The corset was professionally made, steel-boned with heavy eyelets that allowed her to cinch in tight enough to create a true hourglass shape out of her voluptuous body. The tulip bodice just covered her nipples. In the bar the vest had covered her, but she’d kept flashing him little glimpses to tantalize him. When she removed her coat and vest, she turned for his approval.
He smiled at her and nodded.
"Very nice. Do you want something to drink?" he said in her ear.
"Yes, please, sir, water and some munchies for afterward. Thank you, sir."
He handed her the bag and the key, made the plate, and took four bottles of water. Gesturing her to precede him they made their way up the wide stairway to the second floor.
She led him to the right off the main hallway. Fifteen was at the end of the narrow corridor on the right. She unlocked the door, opened it, and stood back so that he could enter first.
The room was mirrored and lit by more of the Christmas and rope lights. There was a small lamp on the table next to the couch and chair. The rest of the room contained a Saint Andrew’s Cross, another small table, and an examination table.
Kathy stood to the side, legs spread, head down, hands clasped behind her while he settled everything. He took the bag to the small table and opened, pawing through it, pretending to decide what toys he wanted to play with tonight.
He had two goals: work off some tension and put Kathy in subspace so he could attempt to contact Riyanya.
That meant some pretty intense play. He pulled out the fur-lined cuffs, a nod to Kathy’s desires. Then he lifted out an elk flogger and swished it around, as much to test the heft as to give her a hint of what was to come.
With his spectral vision, he could see her aura of pleasure. He laid the flogger down and drew out the buffalo flogger. It was heavier, having more falls and a nice handle with a dildo built in. After some hesitation, he grabbed lube and condoms for it.
He heard her suck in a breath and smiled as he bent down to pull out the moose flogger. It was the heaviest of all and Kathy had told him it was like being hit with a two by four.
He turned suddenly and lashed the air around her, watching in pleasure as she held herself tightly to avoid flinching. Flinching would make him angry and she knew by now to avoid that.
"Is this what you want, Kathy, little sub?" He let the falls slip over her shoulder and down her back.
"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."
"You know that to get what you want I will require other things first."
She shivered. She knew. Yet, she continued to ask for his company.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Very well. We shall begin. Remove the skirt."
She did, shimmying out of it and then adjusting the corset ties to make up for the slack. She wore matching crimson panties and he could smell the wet spot on them.
He breathed deeply and she shivered again.
She took her position again, hands clasped, head down, legs spread, the slightest quiver in her thighs as she held herself still against her rising pleasure.
He opened a side pocket in the toy bag and removed a pair of nipple clamps and a pair of labial clamps. They clinked as they came out of the pocket and Kathy hissed again in anticipation, knowing the sound. The gold nipple clamps were anodized aluminum with a chain between them. The labial clamps were purple. He laid them on the table and turned to her.
Trakkison’s spectral vision showed her drenched in heat, pleasure radiating off of her.
From the other pocket in the bag Merrill pulled a leather blindfold, fitted with sheep skin cups for her eyes. He held it to his nose and smelled the leather, wool, and dried tears there. Then he lifted out a vibrator and walked over to the extension cord that was coiled against the wall. It reached to both the cross and the examination table. He turned it on briefly to check the power and smelled Kathy’s rush of pleasure. That was a wonderful thing about humans, their pleasure was such a wonder; even ordinary humans had a delicious heat and perfume about them.
He made his way back to her, touching her shoulder briefly, watching the line of goose bumps that trailed his fingers.
"Are you ready, Kathy?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Her voice quavered in excitement and fear of the nipple clamps. She hated the never ending pain, but had confided to him that if it was the price of his skill, she would pay it.
He needed the constant pain to push her over into the deepest levels of subspace. She would go readily enough under the flogger, but for his connection to Riyanya, he needed her deep, turned far inward.
"Approach then, Kathy."
Her high heels clicked on the bare floor easier to clean afterward. She stood in front of him, eyes down, hands behind her, legs spread.
As humans went she was beautiful. Her hair was thick, brown, streaked with reds and blondes and cut in a blunt wedge. He liked that and grasped it at the nape of her neck and pulled her head up to look at him.
Her cheekbones were high and her eyes were heavy lidded and sensuously lazy.
"You know what I’m going to do?"
"Yes, sir."
"Say it."
"You’re going to put the clamps on me and flog me."
"Why?"
"Because we both like it?"
She knew the script, but wasn’t playing her part. He shook her head and pulled it back hard.
"What do we like?"
"You like to hurt me. And I want you to hurt me."
"You want me to hurt you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
Her head was so far back she had to roll her eyes down to look at him. She was supposed to look at him at this moment so there was nothing but honesty at least around this.
"Because it feels good, sir," she whispered.
"It feels good when I flog you?"
"Yes, sir."
"So you want me to flog you, even though you know I’m going to put the clamps on?"
"Yes, sir."
Sometimes he put the blindfold on first. Tonight he wanted to savor the fear in her eyes as he placed them and tightened them on her vulnerable flesh.
A certain amount of fear would help propel her into subspace.
"Very well then." He let go of her hair, trailing his hand down her shoulder to stroke her breasts as they rose out of the corset.
She sucked air again and he brushed against the front of her panties as a reward.
He lifted the clips slowly by one end, allowing the chain to dangle as he walked toward her.
"Look at me."
She raised her gray eyes to his and he slipped his hand into the corset and eased out one breast. It was plump, full, with a rosy aureole and a small, hard nipple. He rubbed it to make it stand as tall as it would and then repeated the gesture so that both were offered to him.
He lowered his head into them and breathed deeply. She had the faintest scent of Opium. He enjoyed that fragrance and lingered, hands on her hips to keep her where he wanted her. Her flesh was smooth and soft and he turned to one side and nuzzled, lipping her flesh, until he could resist no longer, then bit into it.
As his bites went, it was nothing, but she struggled, stifling a scream so that it became a high pitched whine. He held her, with his mouth and hands, not allowing her to move. To her credit, she mastered herself.
He finally let go and he could smell her sudden sweat. He licked the mark and she shivered.
"There, let us continue." He set one clamp and she moaned. When the other was set, he tightened them and set the chain outside the corset.
"Just think how pretty that will look when you bend over. Think of how much prettier it will be with a few trinkets strung on it. She had some weights, heavy lead charms mounted on hooks. As she got warmed up, he would add more weight, pulling on her nipples.