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Message-ID: <43111asstr$1056759002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Kalisha Connors <kalishaconnors@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Kalisha Breaks and Enters {Kalisha Connors} (FF,MMFFF,exhib,d/s)
Date: Fri, 27 Jun 2003 20:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Kalisha Breaks and Enters
This is the 5th Kalisha Connors story, but can be read
on its own.  Enjoy.
(c)2003 by Kalisha Connors
	
"So, what do you think?" asked Cindy.  Her hair was a
bright green this week, and she wore a red vinyl
minidress and matching pumps.  Christmassy, thought
Kalisha Connors.
Kalisha looked around.  She definitely saw the
attraction of a nice house in the 'burbs-- lots of
space, a view of green lawn and flowers out the back
window, a deck-- and there was something about having
no furniture that made a house look even bigger, even
if there was no place to sit down except the cushions
on the floor.  "Nice, Cindy.  This from the
settlement?"
Cindy van Meteren, formerly Cindy Wilcox, shook her
head.  "Not exactly-- the divorce isn't final yet. 
This is from my dad.  Seems he never approved of
Steve, even if he never said anything.  So he buys me
a house, and sends me a little note-- 'congratulations
on your divorce.'  Doesn't call, or anything."
"He has more money than time," murmured Kalisha.
"Something like that," said Cindy.
Kalisha opened a sliding glass door and walked out to
the deck.  From the deck, she could see the
neighborhood-- and the neighborhood could see her. 
But a wall around the backyard below kept it private. 
"A nice place to sunbathe," she said.  Or have an
orgy.  She giggled.  Her life lately had gotten very
wild, and so had her thoughts.
For the last two months Cindy had lived with her in
her apartment, serving her every wishes, more or less.
 Now Cindy had her own place, and Kalisha viewed the
prospect with a mixture of emotions.  Her apartment
was crowded with two, and she wasn't sure she liked
what being a top, or whatever she was to Cindy, did to
her.  It was fun to play, but keeping it up full time
was exhausting, and she noticed that she'd become a
little shorter with other people when they didn't do
as she asked.  On the other hand, going back to doing
her own laundry wasn't exactly a thrill, and having
Cindy make love to her every morning definitely beat
the heck out of setting an alarm clock.
"Mistress?" asked Cindy, coming up from behind her.
"Hmm?"
"Will you move in with me?  My house is your house."
Kalisha shook her head.  "It's very nice, Cindy, but I
like being able to walk to places, and the suburbs
just aren't for me."
Cindy sighed.  "I was so hoping-- but I guess you're
tired of me."
Kalisha frowned.  "Cindy, that's really not it.  I
like my place-- even if it's small, I like it, and
it's mine.  This is yours."
Cindy just shrugged.
"I will miss you," said Kalisha.
"You could order me to stay," said Cindy, hopefully,
and then added, "Mistress."
Kalisha just shook her head.
"You know," said Cindy, kneeling and looking up at
Kalisha, "I will do anything for you.  Anything at
all."
Kalisha nodded, and smiled, ruffling Cindy's hair
affectionately, a little corner of her mind wondering
what the neighbors thought of this particular scene--
the green haired girl in red vinyl kneeling before a
tall black haired woman in a short black dress. "And
right now, I want you to have a good time, enjoy
decorating your house, and buying your own clothes. 
Find out what it means to be you, when neither Steve
or I are bossing you around."
Cindy was silent a moment, and then looked up at
Kalisha, meeting her eyes with intensity.  "Kalisha,
do you still *want* to be my mistress?" she asked.
"Yes, Cindy," said Kalisha.  And much to her surprise,
she found she was speaking the truth.
"Good," said Cindy, and she got up and walked into the
house, leaving Kalisha to stare after her.
	
***
Kalisha walked on stage to the sound of applause-- not
for herself, but for Wendy.  The petite redhead had
just finished her set, her clothes discarded about the
stage, and was walking back towards the dressing room,
stark naked except for five-inch high heel sandals. 
Her high, small breasts were shiny with sweat.  Her
shaved pubes kept them guessing as to whether all that
red hair was natural-- but Kalisha knew that it was. 
She had helped Wendy shave a few times.
Kalisha winked at Wendy.  Wendy grinned back.  They
hadn't seen nothing yet, the grin said.
Halfway along the red and blue lit runway, as Wendy
and Kalisha were about to pass, they both stopped, and
turned to each other in slow motion.  Kalisha, over
six feet tall in the four inch heels she wore on
stage, bent slightly, and Wendy, who even with five
inches of help was about five-seven, tilted her head
back.  Slowly, they closed the distance between them,
until their lips were just touching, -- and then, in a
sudden show of passion, they reached their arms around
each other and kissed passionately, tongues
intertwining.
Wendy's roamed Kalisha's backside, running along the
soft red velvet of her dress, sneaking under the short
hem briefly.  Kalisha gripped Wendy's ass, her other
hand sliding upward along Wendy's side until it
lingered on a firm breast.
The crowd grew silent, watching the two lovers in
fascination.  Among them, Kalisha knew, was her
boyfriend, Gareth.  The sound of a zipper was loud in
the quiet room, as Wendy exposed Kalisha's back with
one pull.  Her dress would have fallen to the floor if
Wendy's body hadn't been pressed against her.  The
audience was waiting for that, Kalisha knew-- but
first, they kissed again.  Wendy's hands were on
Kalisha's ass, her cheeks displayed between Wendy's
spread fingers by a deep red thong.  Playfully, Wendy
pulled on the back of the flimsy garment, so that the
triangle in front narrowed and pressed into the folds
of Kalisha's pussy.
Kalisha slipped her hands between herself and Wendy,
and pinched Wendy's nipples.  Wendy backed up, and the
dress fell to the stage.  They paused for a moment,
and Kalisha twirled, showing off her long slender
body, her magnificent tits lifted by Victoria Secret's
burgundy best.  Her black hair, which she had let grow
out, fell into her cleavage.  With a toss of her head
Kalisha flung it back.  She felt the desire of the
crowd, and shut it out.  There was too much.
 From behind her, Wendy put her hand around Kalisha
again, her hands sliding up towards Kalisha's breasts,
cupping them for a moment.  She pretended to fumble
with the clasp for a moment, drawing out the
anticipation.  Then, just as she finally managed to
undo it, Kalisha whirled, her bare breasts flashing
briefly before pressing against Wendy's chest.
Wendy flexed her knees, sliding down along Kalisha's
body until her mouth was even with the taller girl's
nipples.  She made them shiny with her tongue.
Since she had first encountered the goddess of Love--
or Lust, depending on how you thought about it--
Kalisha had learned to sense the desires of others,
getting telepathic flashes of their lusts.  Now, it
came on her again, the thoughts of the men and women
in the audience all focused on the two on stage.  And,
closer to her still, Wendy's own lascivious thoughts,
tinged with more than a little genuine love.  It was a
heady mix, and Kalisha could drown in it if she chose,
losing herself completely to the moment of passion.
Unfortunately, thought Kalisha, blocking some of the
psychic deluge, there are laws about what you can do
on stage.  She arched her back, ahhing at the feel of
Wendy's tongue, sighing as Wendy crouched further to
relieve her of her panties.
They could touch, but there could be no penetration. 
So they slithered their bodies against each other,
kissing and licking, their hands roaming along breasts
and stomachs, backs and bottoms, finally slipping
between spread thighs as they sank gracefully down to
the stage.  They teased, fingers diddling clits and
tracing along folds, lips sucking on erect nipples,
tongues licking down bellies before stopping.  The
cacophony of lust and noise faded until Kalisha was
only aware of the beautiful girl she was making love
to, and the frustration of not being able to taste her
or slip her fingers inside.
Then she felt him.  A single powerful lecherous
thought from without.  He wanted to join with her, to
fuck her; nothing kinky, nothing out of the ordinary,
but somehow it stood out.  For a moment, she hoped the
thought was Gareth's, that her closeness to him
attuned her somehow to his lust, but it was not.  She
tried to pushed it out, concentrating on Wendy's own
frustrated desire, and smiled briefly.  Wendy's hands
were small-- she probably could get her entire fist
inside Kalisha.  Kalisha knew she wanted to. "Later,"
she murmured to Wendy.
Bang, bang, bang.  It was a sound like furniture,
heavy, wooden against the faux stone floor.  The sound
came from the same source as the desire Kalisha had
felt.  Wendy diverted her eyes just for a moment to
look, and Kalisha, turning her head, looked too.
There was a man there, standing at the very end of the
stage, where the light that was meant for the dancers
half penetrated the anonymizing darkness.  He was
old-- in his fifties, which made him more than twice
Kalisha's age.  He wore a large floppy hat, a flannel
shirt, and blue jeans, and in his hands was a thick
wooden walking stick.  He stopped pounding the stick
on the floor.  His hair was long and straggly, blonde
mixed with gray, and his one visible eye was blue. 
The other was covered by an eye patch.
There was silence, briefly, followed by a man's voice.
 "Hey Buddy, siddown!"
The man with the eye patch ignored the voice. 
"Kalisha Connors!" he said, in a loud, carrying voice.
 Kalisha stood up, feeling uncomfortable in her nudity
for the first time.  Wendy felt it too, and grabbed
the leather skirt she had discarded during her solo
act.
Greg, the large black man who carded at the door, put
his hand on the shoulder of the odd man.  Greg towered
over him by six inches or more, but the man didn't
flinch, he just pushed his staff backwards.  It didn't
look like much, a tap, certainly not a crushing blow,
yet Greg toppled.  Beside her, Wendy gasped.
At least Wendy knew something of Kalisha's own powers,
and knew that the world was not as it often seemed. 
Gareth, too, who Kalisha now noticed had been right
behind Greg, ready to back the bouncer up.
"Kalisha Connors, we need to talk," said the man with
the eye patch.  He held his staff in two hands, a
space clearing around him.  A few had gotten up to
form a circle around him, as if waiting for some
signal to attack him.  They were looking to Gareth,
tall, nordically handsome Gareth, who commanded a
presence in most crowds, and he, in turn, was looking
to her.
She looked at the man.  He wasn't lusting after her
now.  His mind was on other things, and she could get
no psychic impression.  But her natural senses told
her that the man looked confident, with little doubt
in his ability to take on the crowd if need be. 
Nobody gets hurt on my watch, thought Kalisha.
"Mind if I get my clothes on, first?" she asked.
The man grinned.  "Of course I mind," he said, with a
leer.  "But I'm willing to compromise."
Gareth knelt by Greg's prone body.
"Is he okay?" asked Kalisha.
Gareth hesitated, then nodded uncertainly as Greg
stirred.
"What was that?" said the bouncer.
Kalisha sighed.  Her life was never going to be
normal, that was for sure.  She took the dress Wendy
handed her, and slipped into it.  Underwear could
wait.
	
***

"I already know you want to fuck me," said Kalisha, by
way of a conversation starter.  She had sat down with
the man at a table in the corner, lit only by a
candle.  Gareth was with her, his bulk a comforting
presence.  "Is that what you wanted to talk about? 
Because the answer is 'no.'"
The man's one eye seemed to twinkle.  "Very
perceptive," he said.  "But no, there is more."  He
tilted his head to indicate Gareth.  "Does he know
what you are, truly?"
"Funny time to be start being concerned about my
secrets, given the display you just put on, but yeah,"
Kalisha replied.  "And who are you?"
"My name is Jack Wooden, and like you, I have been
chosen by one of the ancient gods.  I come to make a
bargain, actually.  I need you to find something for
me, something I've lost.  And I, in turn, have things
to teach you."
"What sort of things?" asked Kalisha
"Magic," Jack said.  "Once you get the power to learn
it."
Gareth frowned.  "Odin," he said.
"Very perceptive, my friend," said Jack.
"What is it you lost?" asked Kalisha.
"My eye."
"Excuse me?"
"My eye.  My glass eye.  Which I have invested with a
fair amount of power-- you might say I'm half blind
without it."  Jack chuckled.  "Normally, I have a fair
amount of power to sense things-- in fact,
paradoxically, if I had my eye I could no doubt find
it, but that isn't horribly helpful.  Now I see only
dimly.  And you," he said, jabbing a finger at
Kalisha, "have information that will help me find my
eye.  I don't know what it is, or how you have it, but
you do."
Kalisha shook her head.  "I don't think I've seen any
glass eyes around lately," she said.
Jack shrugged.  "Maybe you know of someone who would
steal it."
"Loki," suggested Gareth.  "That guy in the club--"
"No," Jack said.  "I know of Loki's servant, and he is
weak.  It is the sort of thing he would do, but I
tracked him down and forced him to speak truth.  A
limited kind of truth, but trust me, he cannot lie to
me.  He told me two things-- he does not have it, and
that you know the one who does.  More I could not make
him say."
Kalisha looked at Gareth, a thought passing through
her mind.  She knew one other of the chosen, and
certainly, if he had a magic glass eye, he wasn't the
kind to give it back.  It was a wild leap-- but for
the fact that the short man who she thought of as
Loki, after his patron, said she would know the thief,
and she couldn't think of any other conclusion to leap
for.
"You have a guess," Jack said.
"Yes," said Kalisha.
"But you're not sure you want to help me."
"Something like that."
"Magic is a very flexible thing," said Jack.  "You
would find it useful, I'm sure, to know more of it's
nature.  Of course, I could try to find the one who
has it myself, and bargain with him or her for the
return of the eye."
Kalisha frowned.  The man she thought of was the
servant of the God of Wealth-- and her boss at work,
Steve Wilcox.  She knew things about Steve he didn't
want revealed, which kept him in line at work, but he
was evil, no doubt about it, and she could only push
the blackmail thing so far.  What she had over him
would hurt her friend, Cindy, Steve's ex-wife, just as
much as it hurt Steve.  She doubted he'd just give up
the eye.  And telling Jack where it was so he'd get it
himself-- well, she definitely didn't want Wilcox
getting any extra power.  She had seen what Jack had
done to the bouncer.
"Alright, but one thing," Kalisha said.  "You said you
could teach me once I get the power to learn.  How do
I get the power?"
Jack smiled.  "We all get power different ways," he
said.  "Loki's servant gets it from pulling tricks on
people-- small amounts of power.  He gets much more
when he plays tricks on someone who is chosen-- I like
the term avatar, by the way, even though it's not
precisely right.  Another I know gets it through
settling people's differences-- he, too would get more
if avatars were involved."
"And you?"  Kalisha had a pretty good idea of what her
own source of power was.
Jack's eye darkened.  "I imagine if you did some
reading you'd figure it out.  My source is through
sacrifice."  He paused,  "I may not be the best person
in the world, but I'm not willing to kill anyone to
get power, mortal or avatar."
"The bit with the staff was pretty impressive-- and I
can feel you in a crowd, so I know you have power. 
How'd you get it?"
"When I met the god, I had two eyes," he said.
In spite of herself, Kalisha gulped.  "Yuh-uck," she
said.  Even Gareth looked a little green.
"I'm an avatar myself, so it was-- satisfactory," said
Jack.  "But that doesn't mean masturbation would do it
for you."
So she had to make love to an avatar.  The only
avatars Kalisha knew were Loki's servant; Steve
Wilcox, who served the god of wealth; and Jack Wooden.
 Of the three, Jack Wooden was the least distasteful.
"Yuck," she said again.
Jack just smiled, and Gareth, who had figured it out
as well, looked like he really, really wanted to wipe
that smile off Jack's face with a quick right to the
jaw.
"All right," said Kalisha.  "I'll try to get your eye.
 But as to the magic thing-- well, we'll see."
"Always a sensible order-- eye first, then seeing,"
said Jack, leaning back in his chair and smirking.  "I
approve."

***
	
Steve Wilcox laughed.  To think that not long ago he
had been feeling sorry for himself!  Losing his wife
to that slut Kalisha Connors had been a setback -- not
just because he missed having Cindy give him blowjobs,
but because Cindy's father was filthy rich and Steve
was planning to inherit someday.  And it was annoying
seeing Connors every day at work, watching her take
her extended lunch hours while he, ostensibly her
boss, simply had to grit his teeth.  He could scarcely
get her fired, because then the shit would hit the
fan.
But it didn't matter, because now he had the eye.  He
let it roll back and forth in his palm, admiring it
through his thick glasses, and smiled.  Pluto, Hades--
call the god of wealth what you will, he had more than
one aspect.  Death, the underworld-- that, too, was
his domain.  Since he had been chosen by Hades he had
been going about his worship in the lesser way,
attempting to amass a fortune.  He had been successful
at that, largely, despite the loss of Cindy's father's
money, but not hugely successful-- he knew a dozen
wealthier men.
So as difficult as it was to part with money, he had
been happy to pay fifty grand for the little glass eye
offered him by the diminutive stranger.  For the risks
of murder were too high to be wasted on ordinary
mortals-- and the eye allowed him to track down more
suitable sacrifices.  He had spent the last hour
praying over the wavy, gold handled knife he had
chosen, and now he felt ready.  He opened the door,
and descended the stairs.
There they were, in his own little dark underworld,
only a single bare bulb lighting the windowless room. 
Once it had been a place for him to take Cindy,
deliciously reluctant Cindy.  She had a taste for
receiving pain, that one, and humiliation.  The fact
that she had hated him only made it the more fun.
There were two there now.  One, the larger, sat in a
chair in the middle of the room, which Steve had built
manacles into long ago.  The leg cuffs, designed to
hold more slender legs wide, were too narrow for the
muscled legs of the large man with long blond hair who
sat there.  But the manacles were sturdy, and the
chair well bolted to the floor.  He had been a dupe,
to be so easily led here, thought Wilcox.  Whatever
deity chose him, he had chosen poorly.
Chained to the far wall was the other, her hair a dark
brown, almost as dark as the hated Kalisha's.  Wilcox
vowed to think of Kalisha while he wielded the knife
on that one.  She was smaller, shorter, but she would
do.  Where Wilcox had left the man his flannel shirt
and stonewashed jeans, he had cut the woman's long
black dress to ribbons.  She had pleasant curves,
thought Wilcox, and a nice round ass.  Perhaps... but
no.  Letting his sexual desires get in the way of
proper worship had been part of his downfall with
Cindy and Kalisha.
The crash of nearby thunder was accompanied by a brief
flickering of the light, but the house did not lose
power.  That wouldn't delay the blessed event, thought
Wilcox, even if I have to do it by candle light.  He
held the knife up in the air, near the light, so that
the light reflected off it and caught the blond man in
the eye.  Both of his intended victims had been
ignoring him, but now he had the man's attention. 
Still, the man said nothing.
Wilcox did not admit to himself that his grandstanding
was an attempt to delay a step that even his atrophied
conscience knew was deeply evil.
He played the light along the wall the woman was
resolutely staring at, and she, too, turned to look. 
She saw the knife.  And laughed.
Wilcox took a step back, surprised, before he
recovered himself.  "Tonight, chosen ones, I intend to
make you rue the day you ever pledged to serve your
gods.  You shall die to honor Hades, god of the
Underworld, and into his domain you shall go."
The woman smiled.  "You shall get no power from this,
little man," she said.  "You know we were chosen, but
you never even bothered to find out by whom."
Wilcox shifted his grip on the knife.  The woman's
laughter, and now this quiet confidence, infuriated
him, and he wanted to silence her in the worst way. 
Still, compelled, he asked, "Who, then?"
"The moon herself, most worshipped of all things save
the sun, chose me, little man.  She waxes and wanes,
but you heed not her cycles.  You seek to sacrifice
Luna's chosen on her most holy night, when the moon is
full?  She will take her own, that is certain, and
gain the power to chose another, who will know you for
what you are.  And she shall gain vengeance."
Where the fuck did she learn to talk like that?  "I
didn't see any full moon," said Wilcox.
"Did you happen to notice the clouds?" said the moon
woman sarcastically, "They often come with rain.  And
thunder-- perhaps you heard that.  Occasionally, alas,
clouds obscure the moon, but they do not diminish her
power."
Now the man, too, was grinning at him.  He started
whistling a song, something folksy-- it took Wilcox a
moment to recognize it.  "If I had a hammer"-- what an
odd choice.
"Of course," said the moon woman calmly, "My
replacement may not get to you before the lightning
does."
"Oh, don't tell me," said Wilcox, catching on, "that I
have captured the chosen one of Zeus, that self-styled
king of the gods?"
The blond finally spoke.  "Don't think about him as
Zeus," said the man, "I don't think I'm the kingly
type.  But this thunderstorm's gonna stay the night, I
reckon, either way."
With his left hand, Wilcox squeezed the eye, and
glared.  "Who do you serve?" he asked.
"Thor," said the man.  "Thunderer.  Split your head
like a melon."
"Fucking hell," said Wilcox.  Why didn't they have the
sense to be frightened?  Either way, it would cost him
little to wait for the moon to wane, and the
thunderstorm wasn't likely to last past morning at the
worst.  It was a typical Virginia cloudburst, most
likely, ferocious but soon spent.  "I'll wait.  But
your time will come."
He turned and left the room, holding the eye in his
hand, looking into it as he climbed the stairs.  The
mists inside it swirled and coalesced; it had found
someone else.  The mysterious man who had sold it to
him told him it would find the other chosen.
The image formed.  Kalisha Connors, and she was
getting closer.  Coming towards him, in fact.  *She*
was chosen?  By who, the goddess of Stripper
accountants?  But nonetheless, it was her.  She was
coming over, probably to talk about something or other
of Cindy's.
He went to his study, and put the knife down on his
desk.  He opened the drawer.  Three was a much better
number for a sacrifice, and making Kalisha a third
would be deeply personally satisfying.  In fact, it
would probably help him go through with it all-- he
should have added her even when he thought she was
mortal.  He felt inside the drawer until he felt the
comfort of cold metal, and then his fingers tightened
around it.  Yes.  The dungeon would accommodate one
more, there to wait until the storm blew over and the
moon waned.

***

Of course Wilcox had changed the locks on the door;
Kalisha hadn't really expected the keys Cindy gave her
to work.  Cindy did, however, tell her what light
Wilcox left on when he wasn't home-- the one in the
study-- and the house was otherwise dark.  Cindy knew
a lot of Steve's favorite hiding places, too. 
Hopefully, he had stashed the eye in one of them.  In
any case, Kalisha intended to have a look around.
As for the lock, well, that was why she had Gareth
along.  He was a fine upstanding citizen, but he had
an endless fascination for things like lock picking
and hotwiring cars.  Odd little hobbies, for a man who
worked as a nurse.  Kalisha scanned the neighborhood. 
All quiet, a typical night in the ritzy burbs, where
you couldn't even see the end of the neighbors
driveway from your front porch.  Cindy, with the
getaway car, was parked in the driveway.  Kalisha felt
sleek in her black catsuit.  Heck, she had a few
inches on Emma Peel and better boobs.
"Got it," said Gareth.
"Let's rock and roll," said Kalisha.
Gareth, ever the gentleman, opened the door for her. 
Then, apparently thinking about the potential danger
involved in burglary, he tried to go through before
her, but Kalisha slipped by him.  He closed the door
softly behind himself, careful not to pull it shut.
"Bedroom first, then study.  My bet's on the sock
drawer, if it's anywhere.  He's probably carrying
around with him, but we can't do too much about that."
"Wait for him to come home, and then jump him,"
suggested Gareth.
"I'm not absolutely sure he has it," hissed Kalisha. 
"I just can't think of anyone else.  And keep your
voice down."
Gareth nodded.
A moment later:  "You know, we're tracking water in."
"I wiped my feet."
"Me too, but my shoes are soaked, anyway."
"His fault for having white carpets," said Kalisha.
In the bedroom, she told Gareth, "You check in the
upper shelf in the closet-- he liked that 'cause Cindy
couldn't reach.  I'll get the sock drawer." 
Apparently, Wilcox used to keep mementos of his
infidelities, and Cindy, bored at home all day, had
plenty of time to poke around.  Knowing Wilcox, he
probably meant for her to find him, thought Kalisha. 
It was his sort of emotional game.
Kalisha shined her mini-maglite into the drawer, and
pushed aside a layer of socks.  The drawer was full of
bondage porn, but it wasn't of the homemade variety. 
And no glass eye.  Gareth used a cigarette lighter to
shed some light on the upper reaches of the closet.
"Actually," came a voice from the doorway, "I will
need to get the white carpets replaced.  Bloodstains
show."
Kalisha and Gareth turned as one.  There was Wilcox,
standing with a smirk on his face, and a pistol in his
right hand.  In his left was an oversized marble-- the
glass eye, no doubt.
"Two of you.  Makes four, not nearly as good a number
as three.  Besides, according to the eye, he's just an
ordinary joe-- no power there.  Expendable."
'Makes four' meant there were two others, but who? 
Kalisha quickly moved in front of Gareth, even as
Wilcox was pointing the gun.  She doubted Gareth would
let her shield him for long.  "Let him go, then."
"Sorry, Kalisha.  I've got a sort of extended
operation here, and he might come back with friends. 
You see, for various reasons, I need to keep you in
the basement with the others for a day or two.  Then
-- ahhhhh, glorious day, or night rather -- I get to
kill you."
Gareth lunged past Kalisha.  Wilcox leveled the gun
like he had expected it, and squeezed.
There was a crash, a bang, a thud.  Cindy was standing
in the doorway, holding the remnants of something-- an
old fashioned kerosene lamp, an antique Kalisha
remembered from her first visit to the Wilcox
residence back when Cindy still lived there.  It was
broken now.
Apparently it had been full.  Kerosene spread across
the floor, and the sharp scent of it filled Kalisha's
nose.  The lighter Gareth had held lay unlit in the
middle of the pool, as did Wilcox's broken glasses. 
The gun was on the floor in the room, and Wilcox,
looking somewhat dazed, was getting up nearby.  The
eye rolled right to Kalisha.
Kalisha picked up the eye and leapt the pool of
Kerosene.  Gareth grabbed for the gun.  Wilcox grabbed
the kerosene soaked lighter-- a steel gray object the
same color as the automatic pistol.  Cindy, stunned,
backed away.
Wilcox fumbled with the lighter for a moment-- and
then the lighter, and his hand, caught fire.  Then
startled, he dropped the lighter.  The pool of
kerosene caught, filling the room with acrid smoke,
almost instantly obscuring Wilcox.
"Cindy, get the car going," shouted Kalisha.  "Gareth,
call 911.  Cindy, where's the door to the basement?"
Cindy pointed down the hallway.
"What the hell are you doing?" Gareth demanded, as
Kalisha ran in the direction Cindy pointed.
"Just do as I say," Kalisha yelled over her shoulder,
and then she had the basement door open and she was
descending into the darkness.  She flashed on the
little maglite, taking the first few steps on faith
until she could see the treads of the stairs in the
thin beam.
There was more than one room in the basement, but she
heard sounds of a male voice talking.  She followed
her ears, found the room, flipped on the light.
"Holy shit," she said, seeing two people, held fast by
iron.  Two faces turned to her.  The tall blond male
in the chair looked fine, if distressed; the woman,
indecently exposed and chained to the wall with her
arms and feet apart, had a glazed expression.  It
didn't look like a comfortable position long term.
"The house is on fire," Kalisha told them.  "I've
gotta get you out of here."
"The keys are on the wall over there," said the tall
handsome blond man.  "Get me first, because I can get
her out quick."
Nervous, Kalisha fumbled with the keys for a moment,
before setting the man free.  "Thank the goddess,"
said the woman.
The man got up, crossing over the woman.  He ripped
the chains from the wall
"She said they were weak," he said, as he gathered her
into her arms.  "She just wasn't quite strong enough."
Kalisha nodded.  "Let's go!"
Together they ran up the basement stairs, Kalisha
leading the way.  There was a lot of black smoke, and
Kalisha bent over to keep her head low and out of the
worst of it, and chose a room at random.  She managed
to open one of the windows, and vaulted out into the
backyard.  The tall blond man passed the dark woman
through the window to her, before climbing through
himself.
It was still raining, but Kalisha didn't care.  She
helped the woman out to where the gate in the backyard
fence was.  Cindy and Gareth were waiting in the car
anxiously, the back door open wide.  Water had begun
to pool in the hollows of the leather back seat.
"We need to get her to the hospital," said the man. 
Kalisha and the man huddled in the back, the woman
between them.  Cindy didn't wait for them to get their
seat belts on before starting the car.
"Won't the neighbors notice us?" asked Gareth.
"Not if we get out of here before the fire engines get
here," said Cindy.  Kalisha couldn't even hear sirens.
 Lightning briefly lit the driveway as Cindy sped down
it.  "Steve chased me naked around the front yard one
time, and no one even noticed because of all the
trees."
"You did call 911, didn't you," Kalisha asked Gareth.
"Sure I did," Gareth replied.
"I was afraid you wouldn't call them to rescue
Wilcox."
"I didn't.  I called them in case they were needed to
rescue you."
"Steve was pawing the floor, last we saw, looking for
something," Cindy said.  "And then the smoke got too
bad.  I yelled for him to get out."
"We should have waited for him, or gone back to rescue
him," said Kalisha.
"Should not," said the blond stranger, Gareth, and
Cindy.

***
	
Thomas Svensson was the blond man's name.  Selene was
the woman's, just Selene, no last name-- she'd had it
legally changed.
"Thanks so much for rescuing us," said Selene.  She
had been released from the hospital with a clean bill
of health. They were all sitting in Cindy's house,
reclining on some of the numerous velvet cushions
Cindy had scattered on the wooden floor.  Cindy was
making up some drinks and snacks in the kitchen. "I
don't know how you happened to be there, but thanks." 

"You're welcome," said Kalisha.
"How *did* you happen to be there?" asked Thomas.
"It's kind of a strange story," Kalisha said.  "I
doubt you'll believe it."
"I think," said Selene, "that we tend to believe
strange stories.  Try us."
So Kalisha told them.  And to her surprise, they took
it all in stride.
"So that's why that guy -- Wilcox, you said his name
was -- kept looking at that eye like it was the one
ring and he was Gollum," said Thomas.
Selene chuckled.  "So you're the chosen of Aphrodite,"
she said, musing.  "And you need to get power.  I can
pretty much imagine how you'd get it.  You fancy this
Jack Wooden?"
Kalisha made a face.  "Um, no."
Selene smiled.  "We were chosen, too-- that's why
Wilcox was holding us there.  He thought he'd get
power from us by sacrificing us.  I am the chosen of
the moon goddess, Selene, Luna-- and Thomas is the
chosen of the god of Thunder.  Thor, as he likes to
think of it, but I think it's more complicated that
just Thor."
"I don't," said Thomas, frowning.  "And how do you
think she can 'get power', anyway."
Selene winked at Kalisha, and then addressed Thomas. 
"Sex, big guy.  Sex.  Wooden wants her to need the
power so she'll have sex with him."
"Oh," said Thomas.  "That's uncool."
"Exactly," said Selene.  "And that's why you're going
to offer to make the ultimate sacrifice."
Thomas blinked.
Gareth reached over and held Kalisha's hand.  "I don't
think I'm needed for this-- if I understood what
Wilcox said, a regular guy would probably get in the
way."
Kalisha turned and shook her head, squeezing Gareth's
hand.  "I don't think so-- and I'd like to have you
around."
Selene smiled, "Besides, we owe you for your part in
the rescue, too-- if it's okay with Kalisha."
Kalisha grinned.  "Living life jealousy free," she
announced.  She leaned over to whisper in Gareth's
ear, because she could sense exactly what he was
lusting after.  "She's got a cute ass, don't you
think?"
Gareth chuckled.
Kalisha stood up, her fingers on the zipper of her
catsuit.  She unzipped it, and peeled it off.  She
hadn't worn any underwear.  Selene smiled, and stood
up with her, lifting the dress she had borrowed from
Cindy over her head.  Kalisha kissed Selene, her hands
cupping the other woman's perfect ass.
"I hope," said Selene, between kisses, "That the boys
get their clothes off soon."
"Oh, I think they'll get around to it."
"I want a cock right here," said Selene, insinuating
her fingers between Kalisha's thighs, and probing her
wet folds.
"Not as bad as I do," Kalisha said.  "My boyfriend
wants you from behind," she confided, giving Selene's
ass a squeeze.  "Hmm, I can tell you don't mind at
all."
Male laughter sounded, and male hands pulled the two
apart.  The boys had, indeed, gotten their clothes
off.
They weren't apart for long.  Kalisha lay on some
cushions, her legs wrapped around Thomas.  His was the
largest cock she had ever had, and his slightest
movement made her shiver-- and she got the impression
that he wasn't going to be content with slight
movements.  Selene was on her hands and knees, sucking
on Kalisha's right breast.  Gareth, kneeling behind
Selene, had his cock buried to the hilt in Selene's
pussy.
Kalisha could sense it all, what they were thinking,
what they were feeling.  
It was as if she was Gareth, his balls bouncing as his
cock pounded inside Selene, reaching around to feel
the softness of her breasts, rolling her nipples to
greater peaks.  She could feel Selene squeezing her
cunt to hold his cock tight at the end of each full
thrust, and then loosening as he pulled back to
welcome him back inside, and the tingling pressure as
he fought to hold off his orgasm until Selene came
with him.
And Selene, holding back herself, enjoying every slap
of balls against her clit, the way Gareth filled her,
the angle of his cock as he came into her from behind.
 Her tits ached with pleasure as Gareth's hands
kneaded them.
"Fuck her harder," Kalisha told Gareth, in response to
Selene's unspoken desire.
Thomas acted as if the command was directed at him. 
Kalisha knew she could take him all, but it felt
almost as if he was too much.  Yet she didn't want him
to be any less.  He reached underneath her, holding
her ass up so that he could kneel on the floor and
still fuck her from the front.  He slid a finger along
the crack of her ass, and it tickled so good.
"Um, drinks, hors d'oeuvres?" asked Cindy, kneeling
with a plate of food.
"Thomas will want to eat some pussy soon," Kalisha
predicted with certainty.  "But right now he'd like a
little lubricant so he can put his finger in my ass
while he fucks me."
Cindy lifted her short skirt.  "Right here," she said,
and Thomas reached into her and rubbed her juices on
to his finger.  "Thank you, Mistress, for letting me
serve you," Cindy said.
You're, uh, ohhhhhhh, welcome, ohhhhhhhhhhhhh,"
Kalisha said, her body shaking.
Then Cindy took her clothes off and joined the fray,
and after a while Kalisha lost track of just who was
fucking who.

***
	
They met in O'Malley's bar, the same place Kalisha had
met Aphrodite.  She wore a tight black spandex dress,
with cutouts up the side that bared diamonds of flesh.
 He wore jeans, a t-shirt, and a cowboy hat.
"You're different," he said, as she handed him the
eye.  He palmed it.
"You're not going to put it in?" Kalisha asked,
fascinated and repelled by the idea.
"It needs to be cleaned," he said.  "Not just
physically.  Odin only knows what sort of psychic
residue it has on it."
Kalisha nodded.
"You've gotten some power from somewhere," Wooden
said, thoughtfully.  He frowned.  "I can sense it."
Kalisha smiled.  "Enough to learn some of what you
promised to teach me."  She didn't make it a question.
"I'm afraid so," then Wooden brightened, "to learn it
all, however, you'll need more."
Kalisha nodded.  "I'll keep that in mind."  She had a
date with Selene for the next full moon.  She never
thought she'd be thinking the phrase "that time of the
month" with a smile on her face.  Hopefully, the
weather would be bad.  Selene was tasty, but she
wanted to try Thomas's cock again.  When they joined
at the right time, Selene said, they all got stronger.
 "Now to magic."
"Some other time, perhaps," said Wooden, getting up.
Kalisha grabbed his arm.  "Now," she said.  "We can
find someplace quiet and out of the way, if we need
it.  But now."
Wooden sat back down, frowning.  "Alright.  We can
begin here, I suppose.  You need an object, something
personal, something you can keep with you most of the
time.  Something that has a function, like my walking
stick, is best.  We'll invest it with a little of your
personal power, and it will become a conduit for
more."
Well, she had her keys, they fit the bill, thought
Kalisha.  Sort of prosaic.
"Why the walking stick, rather than anything else?"
she asked.
Wooden smiled at his pupil.   "A good question," he
said.  "Wanderer is one of Odin's many names, and a
walking stick relates to that."
"Oh," said Kalisha.  Then, slowly, she smiled.  "I
have just the thing, then."  She rummaged around in
her purse, and pulled out a trim, six inch long silver
vibrator, putting it on the table.
Wooden rolled his eyes.  "How," he paused. 
"Appropriate.  Very well, this is how you begin..."


=====
Kalisha Connors -- Erotica Writer
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Kalisha/www

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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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