5 comments/ 40780 views/ 10 favorites Twenty Years to Life Ch. 01 By: Evil Alpaca This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. ------------- ----------------------- The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author's permission. This story takes place in the entirely fictional city of Springfield, California, so don't go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD's, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex. Also, although this story (and subsequent chapters) are placed in the "Novels and Novellas" category, that is primarily because no other single category made any more sense. This overall storyline has some aspects of group sex, interracial sex, lesbian sex, heterosexual sex, anal sex, as well as BDSM sexual activity. If any of these types of activities bother you, you might want to stop reading now. -------------- ------------------------- Torrie Jones couldn't have told you what had gone wrong if her life had depended on it. Only four years ago, she had been a happy if somewhat rebellious teenager in high school who had gotten good grades and had a bright if uneventful future all planned. In her senior year, something had changed. She had found herself increasingly discontent with her life. She had decided to take a year off before going to college, which her parents had felt might do her good. Then she had decided not to go to college, which had pissed her parents off to no end. But Torrie didn't care. She just couldn't see herself going the academic route anymore. But she had taken up sculpture in high school, where she had learned to weld. So she figured she could get certified as a welder and get a job that way. But she had put it off and put it off until that goal was nothing but a memory. She still created sculpture, but there was no career in sight. At the age of twenty-two, Torrie was still living in the apartment over her parent's garage and working the graveyard shift at a nearby convenience store. Her parents, both of whom were decent blue-collar workers, were frustrated with their youngest child's lack of drive. She knew they loved her. They just didn't know what to do with her. They couldn't even hope that she would find a nice man and settle down. Torrie had been openly gay since she was seventeen. And it wasn't as if finding a woman should have been hard for her either. She was an attractive young woman with a lean body and a face that had often been described as "elfish." Working with metal had given her a pleasantly toned physique that was the recipient of many appreciative glances, and one of her hobbies besides sculpting was surfing. She loved the water and was an avid swimmer. Whenever she needed to clear her head, she grabbed a board and headed out into the waves. It was one of the advantages of living near the ocean. But the weather outside that day was frightful, and you didn't want to be in the water during one of Springfield, California's rare lightning storms. So she found herself lounging on her couch while burning down another cigarette, reading a book of short stories and poems by Edgar Allen Poe and waiting for her shift to begin. Then the phone rang. She just stared at it, waiting to see if one of her parents was going to pick it up. One of them did. Then her mother's voice came bellowing up the stairs. "Torrie! It's for you! It's Rachel!" Torrie cocked an eyebrow but reached for the phone. She hadn't heard from Rachel in weeks, even though Rachel was probably Torrie's best friend. Rachel was true black beauty whose dad used to play professional football and now owned a series of automotive dealerships. But in the last couple months, Rachel had started ragging on Torrie just like her parents were. It had gotten tiring. "Hey Rachel. Wa'as up?" "God, I thought that phrase went out with the nineties," came the voice from the other end. "Hey, wanna grab some grub before your shift?" Torrie was instantly suspicious. She was a vegetarian, but Rachel was almost entirely carnivorous. While they used to hang out all the time, they never ate together. Unless, that is, Rachel wanted something. "Sure," she said at last. "It has to be somewhere cheap though." "Cool with me. Hey, mind if Jeremy and Frank tag along?" "Sure!" For a moment, Torrie was genuinely excited. Jeremy was Rachel's big brother. If Torrie had a straight bone in her body, she would have been all over him. He was a former high school track star and quintessential stud-muffin. Women of all ages and races were drawn to his Adonis body and natural charm. Frank was a friend of Jeremy's whose family had moved to California from Hawaii. He was a handsome islander, but women were just as attracted to his incredible sense of humor as anything else. They all used to hang out together all the time. Torrie realized that she didn't remember why they had stopped, but Frank was someone who could make a gargoyle statue smile, and she decided she wanted to smile. She and Rachel agreed on a time and place that was nearby (Torrie didn't have a car) and then she hung up the phone. --------------- ------------------ Across town . . . --------------- ------------------ Rachel hung up the phone and took a deep breath. She hoped this was the right thing to do. She turned to Jeremy and Frank and grimaced. "I hope this don't backfire," she muttered. "It's the right thing to do Sis," her brother said. "She's one of the smartest people I know, and she's just wasting time at a dead end job." Frank placed a hand on her shoulder. "You KNOW dat right!" he said, getting a chuckle out of her. There wasn't anything quite as ridiculous as Frank trying to "talk ghetto." "Seriously, she needs an intervention. Let's just make sure not to get too 'in her face' about it. We need to let her know we're concerned. When and where?" "Nine o'clock at the Wendy's on 4th Street. They've got those salads she likes." "Cool," said Jeremy. "I've got to go visit one of my ladies!" he added, flashing a perfect smile. Rachel shook her head and rolled her eyes. Jeremy was a man-whore, plain and simple. His "little black book" was bigger than the telephone directories of a number of small cities, with a few special numbers on his speed dial. "I'll be done in plenty of time." "I wouldn't go bragging about how quick you are," ribbed Frank who promptly had to duck a mock swing. "Anyway, I told my roommate I'd pick up some stuff. I figured I could do that now. See ya at nine." Jeremy and Frank wandered out of the den, leaving Rachel alone. Despite their assurances, she was still worried about the upcoming confrontation. She knew that Torrie had gotten turned off when Rachel started pestering her about getting some kind of life-plan. But Jeremy was right about one thing: Torrie was way too smart to be working at a fuckin' gas station. Rachel remembered when her friend was reading a book every day or so. Poetry, philosophy, prose . . . she had been one of those renaissance women that they made movies about. And Rachel couldn't even figure out what had happened. It was like . . . like Torrie had slowly stopped caring . . . about anything. She heard her father and his friends making a lot of noise as they watched the basketball game on television. She rolled her eyes again. Her dad and his buddies were quite probably the only Clippers fans in the entire city of Springfield, but they made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in numbers. She found herself wondering who all was out there. She needed to vent some steam before her talk with Torrie, and there was one of her father's coworkers who was handy for just such an occasion. Rachel snuck down the hall and stared into the living room. There were about five men plus her dad. One of those men was Charlie Anderson. She smiled. She always heard stories about white girls wanting to have sex with black guys due to the legendary status of their penises. Rachel was in exactly the opposite situation. She was a young black girl who craved white meat. And truth be told, she was as much of a slut as her brother. She was just a little more careful about revealing her exploits, particularly since so many of her encounters involved friends of her brother or older men. And Charlie was one of her favorites. He had sandy-blonde hair, a v-shaped torso of rippling muscle (he was a construction worker) and the stamina of a teenager. More importantly, he had a HUGE dick. She stood at the entrance to the hall, waiting for her prey to notice. At one point, Charlie reached forward to grab some popcorn. He looked up and noticed her. A smile played across his lips, then he glanced at John (Rachel's father). She tilted her head back down the hall and his eyes widened slightly. He knew that the two of them played a dangerous game, but that's what made it so interesting. "Gotta use the toilet," he said. "You and your small fuckin' bladder," John said, glancing towards the bathroom. Rachel had already vanished. "Not the bladder. Gotta drop the kids off at the pool." He grabbed a newspaper off the coffee table. "This could take a while." He moved down the hall and into the bathroom where Rachel was waiting. She looked as hot as the first time he had caught her masturbating after stumbling into her room on accident, which had lead to an incredible fuck session. They both knew that if Rachel's father ever found out that there would be a shallow grave dug in the backyard, but that just made the whole thing more exciting. Every time he came over, Charlie immediately looked around for Rachel's prime ass. At the moment, she had that round booty parked on the edge of the sink and was unzipping her jeans. "You're gonna get me killed," he said as he dropped his own pants and let his ten-inch rod spring forward. "But what a way to go," she said, taking his massive organ in her hand. "We'll have to make it quick. I just need somethin' to tide me over." She leaned over and took the velvety mushroom head into her mouth and just held it there before sliding a few inches of the shaft into her throat. It had that smell of sweat that permeated the skin of men who worked hard for a living. She savored that smell and that taste as she downed more of that precious meat. It was already beginning to leak man-candy. She sucked about half of it down before coming up for air. "You were hopin' to get me alone, weren't you?" "Every day," he gasped, looking nervously towards the door. "When you gonna come by the house for some real fun?" "Next time your wife's out of town, I suppose," she said as she stroked his rod and started sucking on the head. She gripped the base with one hand while she stretched her mouth around the shaft. She loved giving head. She was avoiding making to many slurping noises, but every now and then a moan would emanate from her dick-filled lips and sent shudders up Charlie's spine. When his staff was good and slick, Rachel stood up and pushed her jeans down past her ass. The denim hadn't even reached her mid-thighs before Charlie was on his knees, licking her pussy from behind. His pink tongue darted between her ebony ass cheeks and teased her asshole before snaking into her cunt. She was already a little wet down there, and Charlie intended to make her drip. "Ooh, you got a sweet mouth sugar," she crooned as his powerful tongue tickled her outer lips. He was getting her primed, but they didn't have much time to waist. "Now," she whispered. "Do it!" He stood up and quickly pushed his mammoth rod into her warm box with one swift stroke. She felt her vaginal cavity fill to capacity as he drove his spike home, and she gasped as all the air left her body. God, she loved having Charlie's big dick inside her. As he quickly and quietly pistoned his shaft in and out of her hole, she gripped the edge of the sink and held on for dear life. Charlie had a death grip on her ass as he pumped his flesh into her warm body. Then he ran his hands up her body and under her shirt, grabbing her sizeable breasts through her bra. "You are so fuckin' hot!" he whispered heatedly. Her pussy was gripping at him more tightly than anything else he could imagine. He loved it when John invited him over to watch the game, even though it was here in the bathroom or in Rachel's bedroom where the game was really taking place. "Take that cock!" he muttered as his balls slapped up against her. The knowledge of what would happen if they got caught had brought an air of desperation to the event, and Charlie felt a feeling boiling up in his balls far more quickly than he otherwise might have liked. "I'm gonna cum," he said, pulling out. Rachel spun around and engulfed the head of his member in her hot mouth again just as he jettisoned his load. The warm goo splashed against her throat and filled her mouth nicely, and she managed to swallow every drop. She nursed his shaft until she was satisfied that there was no more candy to be had before letting it fall from between her lips. She knew that Charlie wanted to kiss her, but he was too squeamish about tasting his own jizz to try. That worked for Rachel. Charlie was a good fuck, even when it was just a quickie, but she wasn't interested in being an official mistress. There were too many other players in her life for her to be the "other woman" for this one guy, no matter how hot he was. She gave his semi-hard stick a gentle squeeze. "Pleasure doin' business with you," she said grinning, then pulled up her pants and hid in the shower as Charlie got dressed and left, making sure the coast was clear. She snuck out of the bathroom and headed out to the car. She hadn't gotten off, but she didn't need to. Yet. Fucking made her feel relaxed, and she was going to need that feeling during the upcoming "intervention." ------------ ----------------- A little while later . . . ------------ ----------------- "I can't fuckin' believe this!" Torrie almost shouted, startling some of the other restaurant patrons. "Is this the only reason you invited me out?" Things had been going so well. Frank had been funny, Jeremy had been charming and Rachel had been friendly. Then Rachel had started in about Torrie needing some sort of life direction, and things had degenerated quickly. "No! You know that's crap! We're just concerned and . . ." Rachel was already regretting trying to intervene. Torrie was so pig-headed and . . . "Sis . . chill." Jeremy placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder, which silenced the young woman. "Torrie, we don't want a fight. We just want you to be happy, and you don't seem all that happy anymore. If you tell us that we're full of shit, we'll drop the whole thing here and now." "I'm happy," Torrie said, not believing her own claim for a minute. "Really?" inserted Rachel. "Because you used to have all these dreams. And you've just kept settling for less and less." Rachel took one of Torrie's hands. The fact that her best friend was gay had never bothered her or made her feel uncomfortable. "If it's just that you're not sure what you want, I can handle that. I just want to make sure there are still some dreams in that head of yours. That tacky, pink head of yours." Since the last time she had seen the girl, Torrie had dyed her short hair pink with black stripes running through it. Torrie looked indignant at the statement, then cracked a smile. "Kiss my white ass!" she said, and everyone started chuckling. "Or we can talk about you and those parachute pants you used to wear in the eighth grade." "Upon pain of death, you swore you'd never bring that up again," laughed her friend. Torrie realized that Rachel had never let go of her hand, and the look in her friend's eyes told her that she while she was trying to diffuse the tension, she wasn't going to drop the subject. "I'm . . . I have no idea what I want." And that was the truth. She knew that she had been growing increasingly disinterested in a lot of things, but never could quite figure out why. "Everything I used to want to do . . . just doesn't seem all that important." Frank piped in. "People change and we're cool with that. Not everyone needs to find their path by the time they're our age." The four of them were all in their early twenties. Rachel was studying journalism and wanted to be a news anchor on CNN. Frank wanted to be a screenwriter for television shows, and Jeremy was studying business and was hoping to follow in his father's footsteps. He had put the track shoes away and been playing college football. He showed promised as a safety, and had already displayed his skills in a couple of bowl games. "But do you really want to be one of those people who is still living with her parents even when she's forty, delivering pizzas to the trailer park her ex-girlfriend lives at with her new husband and eight-point-five children and . . ." Frank finally shut up when Torrie tossed one of Rachel's fries at him. "It's all such bullshit," Torrie said, staring out the window. "Not you guys and your plans . . . I didn't mean . . ." She looked back at her friends. "We spend so much of our lives kidding ourselves about what we want. We want to be rock stars or famous actors or astronauts. But all the time, we're going to public school. Then we're supposed to go to college, then graduate school. By the time we're done, we've spent over a fourth of our life, just to get ready to spend all our time working and not enjoying our lives." "I get that," said Rachel. "Unfortunately, sometimes you gotta compromise. You've got to make a living somehow. Even if you aren't rich or something . . . Don't you want to get out on your own? Is there any job out there you might be interested in? I mean, even if you just get a bachelor's in English, you could probably teach at a community college. All you'd have to do is read and argue, and you're good at those." "And there's always welding. You can make good bank at that," said Jeremy. "I know. I've got options, and I really hate puttin' my folks out. I just don't wanna sink all this time into something just to change my mind a few years later." "That's always going to be a risk, toots," said Frank. "But the longer you wait to take a chance, the longer it'll be before you can have a second chance." "You're a real philosopher, you know that?" grinned Torrie. "No, but you are." "Shit," Torrie said. "I've got to get going. Listen guys, I appreciate the concern. Just don't give up on me yet. I'll figure something out." She headed out the door and down the street to the Kwik-E-Mart where her graveyard shift was about to begin. "I wish I knew what was going on in that girl's mind," Rachel muttered when Torrie was out of sight. ------------- ---------------------------- Two o'clock the next morning . . . ------------- ---------------------------- It had been another incredibly boring shift. But Torrie didn't mind. The store was right across the street from a police station, so she almost never got hassled. And despite her friend's concerns, there was something she loved about working there. The store was also close to the University of California at Springfield, and there was always a stream of tasty young coeds streaming through. Torrie looked at them, imagining what THEIR dreams were and she was happy for them . . . happy they still COULD dream. She envied them for that. She cleaned, ran the register and read her book. She was reading "The Scarlet Letter" for the hundredth time or so when her favorite visitor dropped by. Every Friday night, almost like clockwork, Isabel Turner walked into the store. She was usually on her way back from a bar or a club, and she almost always got the same thing . . . a hot dog and a large diet soda. And to Torrie, Isabel was an angel. Even when her mind was muddled, the thought of Isabel got her heart racing. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 01 She and Isabel had gone to the same schools when they were younger. But Isabel's parents were rich and had decided to send her to private school when they got into the ninth grade. But Isabel had already started to develop the right amount in all the right places. Torrie saw her around town even when they weren't going to the same school, and Isabel had become one of the hottest girls Torrie had ever seen. She had an hourglass figure, big green eyes, silky long black hair and a full pair of lips that would do Angelina Jolie proud. She wasn't cut like Torrie was, but exuded sexuality nonetheless. And she had a set of headlights that could be seen from orbit. That night, those tits were displayed by a low cut babydoll tee-shirt and a light jacket. They were so tanned . . . A couple months earlier, this little ritual had started. Torrie had always had a bit of a crush on the young debutante, but that night had been different. Isabel had recognized the clerk and had actually stopped to say hi. Even then, Torrie's heart had been beating a mile a minute. When Isabel had opened her purse to get her money, Torrie had spotted a book in there. It was a copy of the Marquis De Sade's "The 120 Days of Sodom and Other Writings." Isabel had a copy of that book. She hid it where no one else would ever find it and had worn the pages down to the point she was thinking of getting a new copy. It was a book that horrified her and yet, at points, excited her beyond rhyme or reason. And Isabel's copy looked pretty well read. Isabel caught her staring and blushed as she closed up her purse, stammering something about reading it for a class project. Torrie didn't buy the excuse, as most people didn't carry around a copy of their school reading in their purse, and how many classes would ever have you read the works of De Sade. But Torrie felt that only a certain type of person would seek out that kind of book on his or her own, and she just couldn't imagine the young socialite being . . . that way. Torrie regretted that strangeness of that first altercation because she thought that Isabel would never come around again. But she was wrong. Isabel had dropped by every weekend since, and they often talked for up to an hour. Torrie didn't know why this heavenly creature would hang out at a convenience store with an uneducated malcontent like Torrie until three o'clock in the morning, but she wasn't going to do anything else to drive her away. "Watcha readin'?" Isabel asked as she headed for the cooler at the back of the store. "'The Scarlet Letter.' I ran out of other stuff to read, so I'm going through my collection again." Torrie was trying to sound impressive, but she felt she sounded like a kid who was bragging. 'God, I'm such a dork,' she thought. "So you're hittin' the classics? You've got more patience than I do." "What are you reading in your class?" "Class?" Isabel looked confused. "Oh . . . yeah . . . class. Uhm, we're kinda between assignments right now. Anyway, you got any Diet Vanilla Pepsi back in the cooler? You were out on the shelves." She flipped her hair, looking for all the world like a girl in a shampoo commercial. Torrie felt her heart catch in her throat, and quickly forgot about the girl's ham-handed diversion, at least for a while. She checked the cooler and reported that they were indeed out of the beverage in question and offered something else as a free replacement. She knew she'd have to pay for it out of her own pocket. But she just wanted Isabel to stay a while longer. It worked. She and Isabel chatted longer than usual. Torrie kept feeling the other girl's eyes on her, but she could never catch Isabel staring. 'Probably just my imagination,' she thought dejectedly. Finally, Isabel said she had to leave. Torrie stared at the girl's well-shaped posterior as her hips swung outward and silently cursed herself. "Why don't you just ask her?" she asked herself. "What have you got to lose?" Outside, Isabel was climbing into the shiny little sports car her parents had bought her. She settled back into the black leather seat and sat there for a moment, watching the young woman inside as she started to mop the floor. "Why do you keep doing this?" she asked of herself. "You don't have the guts to ask. You don't even know if she's what you're looking for. So maybe she DID read De Sade. That doesn't mean anything." But she kept staring for another minute before starting up the engine. "Soon," she promised herself. But she had said that to herself every week for months. And she wasn't sure she had the courage to follow through. Slowly, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home. --------------- ------------- A few days later . . . --------------- ------------- Torrie was restocking the candy at three in the morning when she heard the door buzzer go off. She stood up quickly, hoping to catch sight of a certain gorgeous brunette. She sort of got her wish. Unfortunately, the dark-haired individual was Jeremy, and he wasn't her type. And he had a couple of girls with him. A couple ditzy blondes in waitress outfits. 'Great,' she thought. 'He's slumming again.' "Hey Torrie," he said with a smile and a glance at his two companions. "Why don't you two chill here for a bit? I got some business with my friend to attend to and then," he added, grabbing both their asses, "I'll take of my business with you two." Both girls giggled, and Torrie was willing to bet that if one of them had half a brain, it'd be lonely. That was how Jeremy liked his women, stacked like strippers and dumb as a box of rocks. Jeremy wandered up. "How's it going?" Torrie just stared at him. "What?" "Can't a friend just stop by and say 'hi'? Maybe check to see if you've applied to the welding program or . . ." "Shut your pie hole," Torrie said irritably. "I said to give me some space and I'd figure something out. It's been two days. Besides, I SERIOUSLY doubt you came by to inquire about my welfare." She glared at the two bimbos in the doorway. "Ouch! That hurts! Hurts to the core!" Jeremy realized that there was no point beating around the bush. Torrie wasn't biting. "Uh, listen . . . my dorm room is a little cramped with my roommate and his boys getting drunk. I was hopin' . . ." "You're shitting me?!?" Torrie almost shouted. "You promised the last time that it WOULD BE the last time!" "C'mon babe! Your parents sleep like the dead, and they can't hear a damn thing up there when your door is closed! You've got that exterior stairway to the apartment and I'll only need it for an hour or so. I'll be gone by the time you get home and . . ." "You are a piece of work, you know that!" "Please?" Jeremy looked so pathetic that Torrie had to laugh. "Okay, okay. Actually, my folks are out of town visiting my grandma. They left this morning, so don't worry about disturbing them. But I expect a clean set of sheets on the bed by the time I get back, and you're doing my laundry next weekend. Man-whore," she muttered under her breath as she fished her house key out from her pocket. "And if they steal anything, it's your ass." "Love ya," he said with a grin as he grabbed the key, grabbed his walking Barbie Dolls and headed outside. "Sure," she muttered when he was gone. "At least someone will be getting some action in my bed." ------------ ----------------- A few minutes later . . . ------------ ----------------- "Are you sure she's okay with this?" one of the girls asked as she looked around Torrie's disheveled apartment. Jeremy grimaced. He was hoping it was a little more cleaned up, but that wasn't Torrie's style those days. "Absolutely. Torrie's cool. But enough small talk," he said, unzipping his fly and letting his cock spring forward. Both girls gasped. It was about eight inches long, but it wasn't the length that got most girls' attention. It was the thickness. Jeremy's member was about eight inches in circumference and was crowned with a dark, fleshy head. He grabbed one of the girl's hands (he couldn't really remember her name, so he called her Blonde Girl One) and placed it on his trouser snake. "Let's see some action." "Its huge!" Blonde Girl One said. Blonde Girl Two was frantically discarding her clothing. She had a nice big set of tits and just a hint of baby-fat all over her body. Jeremy didn't care. Blonde Girl One had dropped to her knees and had wrapped both hands around his pole, stroking it with an awe-struck tenderness. As soon as the first drop of pre-cum appeared, she stuck her tongue out and licked it up. "Move over," said Blonde Girl Two, who knelt on the floor next to her coworker and grabbed Jeremy's heavy nut-sack. "It's so fuckin' big!" she said, almost in a trance. "I don't know how we're going to fit it inside me!" "Or me," the other girl said, a little annoyed. The two of them started taking turns holding and licking the shaft. Finally, Girl Two took over while Girl One stood up to get undressed. She was in a little bit better shape overall but had smaller breasts. Jeremy had kind of hoped the two girls would undress each other, but neither of them seemed to have any gay inclinations what so ever. That depressed Jeremy a bit. There was something about lesbian activity that aroused him. It was one of the reasons he liked Torrie so much. 'Get your mind off of Torrie,' he thought. 'You'll never have a chance with her.' And while the rational part of his mind knew that was true, the part of his mind that harbored his fantasies of being able to act on his secret lust for his hard-bodied friend wouldn't let it go. 'Shit,' he thought. 'Now I REALLY need to get this party started. He grabbed one of the girls' heads and pushed it towards the purple crown. "Open your mouth and say 'ahh.'" He felt that old, comfortable warmth of a female mouth engulfing his manhood. As Girl One took enough of his meat to make her gag, Girl Two dipped her head underneath and began sucking on Jeremy's balls. He realized this probably wasn't their first time as a tag team. She slurped noisily for a while, then she and Girl One exchanged positions. Girl Two was a little better at giving head, fitting more of his massive tool in her mouth. "You girls have done this before, haven't you?" "No!" Girl Two said after pulling off his rod and stroking it roughly with her hand. "We've never done anything like this before." Jeremy smiled. It was a common lie for tramps to tell. For some reason, they thought that it would make a difference to the guy if he realized he wasn't the first person to receive special treatment. 'Dumb blondes,' he thought. 'Guys really don't give a shit, as long as SOMEONE is sucking their cock.' For a moment, the two girls both were working his thick dick, each sucking on one side of the shaft. Jeremy fantasized for a moment that their lips would touch. 'Girls kissing . . .' echoed in his mind. 'Girls like Torrie . . .' But then the two girls went back to separate tasks, and his fantasy was disrupted. "I need that big fuckin' thing inside me," Girl Two said, flopping back on the bed with her legs spread obscenely wide. "Your wish . . ." he started, then her legs drew him close. Girl One leaned in and helped guide him into her friend's waiting hole and he quickly pushed in. Girl Two gasped as her pussy expanded around the invader and gasped again when he buried it all the way in. Jeremy grabbed Girl One around the waist and pulled her up and towards him, allowing him to lock his lips on one of her fleshy breasts. He increased his tempo of fucking Girl Two while mauling Girl One's tits with his mouth and her ass with his hand. "Fuck me baby," Girl Two was saying. "Fuck me hard!" She was happy with the response, as Jeremy's cock explored her depths. His balls were slapping hard against her ass as he drove himself home over and over again as Girl Two's cunt strained to accommodate him. He thrust his hand between Girl One's ass cheeks so he could finger that girl's pussy as he continued sucking on her nipples. Girl Two's legs were wrapped tightly around Jeremy's waist. "Move over," Girl One cooed as Jeremy pulled his wet fingers out of her. "I wanna ride." After he pulled out, both girls pushed Jeremy onto his back, with Girl One mounting his massive rod while Girl Two started to ride his face. Girl One actually grunted when his dick was all the way inside her, then she started to bounce. Jeremy just let her do all the work. He had a sweet bit of sex right in front of his face, and he loved to eat. He sunk his thumb into the lower portion of Girl Two's entrance while he pushed his tongue between her succulent lips. He preferred long, slow movements down the middle, followed by sucking on her inner lips. Girl One was riding him like a pogo stick, and had reached behind her to fondle his balls in the process. She may have been around the block a few times, but her tunnel was still tight. "God, you got a good dick! I'm gonna fuck you so good!" 'Shut up and ride,' Jeremy thought as he pleasured the pussy in front of him. He took the time to stick a finger in Girl Two's ass. In his mind, he was imagining the two girls he was with making out with each other. Like Torrie made out with girls. Then he was picturing Torrie with these two girls. Suddenly, he found a renewed burst of energy, and his tongue started moving with tremendous fervor. "Whatever it is you said seems to be workin'," Girl Two said as she ground her hips against Jeremy's face, "because he's gonna make me . . . Oh GOD!" Without any further fanfare, her hips began to shake and her juices began to drip onto Jeremy's face. He wondered if Torrie tasted good. She probably tasted better than this chick. "That was so GOOD!" she said. "I'm gonna make it up to you." Girl Two climbed down onto the floor and actually began sucking on his balls while her friend bounced on his cock. He knew it wasn't happening, but he pictured her licking Girl One's asshole as well. That mental image sent him over the top. He flipped Girl One onto her back, positioned himself between her thighs and went to town. He was going like a jackhammer, and the sound of their flesh smacking together could be heard throughout the room. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" Girl One shouted as Jeremy fucked her brains out. Pretty soon, he felt her warm box constrict as she experienced a mind-numbing orgasm. He left himself buried inside her, and the pressure exerted by her orgasm brought Jeremy to the brink as well. "I hope you're on the pill," he said as his dick twitched and blasted a load of spunk deep inside the girl's body. It pulsed several times so that when he finally pulled, his cream was dripping out onto her thighs. "Damn, that thing was full," Girl Two murmured, looking at the cream pie between her friend's legs. "Hey, if you want some . . ." Jeremy started, looking meaningfully at the excess jizz. "Hey, I don't do girls," Girl Two said defensively. "I'm not asking you to eat the bitch," Jeremy growled, "just clean her up." Girl Two tentatively reached a finger out and scooped up a bit of his cum from Girl One's body and sexily sucked it off her finger. Jeremy had been hoping she'd lick it off, but that was good too. "That wasn't so bad," he said, stroking his semi-rigid member. The sight of girls touching each other was a major turn-on, and he was hoping to keep himself hard for another round. "Now why don't you two girls help me out with this big ol' thing?" The girls smiled and got back on their knees. Soon, they were taking turns sucking on his sensitive, semi-rigid shaft. "That's good girls. Keep that up and daddy will be ready to go in no time." There was one thing he really enjoyed about these semi-rigid blowjobs, and that was that the girls were able to fit more of his spongy flesh into their mouths. And sure enough, he soon felt himself getting hard again, and the two little blonde sluts were quickly gagging on his meat. He positioned them both on their backs with their legs spread, taking turns and fucking them slowly and steadily, each one waiting hungrily for her turn. He kept his fingers busy, fingering whichever girl he wasn't fucking. He would then get the girl he was fingering to lick her own juices off his hand. And the entire time, he was wishing it was his pink-haired friend licking the cum directly from another girl's cunt. He growled, then positioned the head of his cock at the entrance of Girl Two's ass. "You want this baby? Wanna big black dick in your ass? Wanna be a whore like in one of those porn movies?" "It'll split me in half!" she said, her eyes wide open. But she didn't back away. "Maybe, but what a way to go," he returned, pushed forward. And Girl Two reached down, grabbing his thick dick and helping guide it in her back door. "So . . . (gasp) . . . so thick! God!" She was actually beginning to squirm. She was rubbing her clit in circles as the impossibly large object slowly found its way into her backside. Girl One, not wanting to be left out, was on her knees behind Jeremy, playing with herself while rimming his asshole with her tongue. 'I wasn't expecting that, but I like it!' he thought to himself. The head of his cock had finally completely penetrated Girl Two's sphincter, and he let her adjust while enjoying Girl One's gentle tongue-action. "Fuck me," Girl Two said. "Fuck my ass! Split my ass open with you big fuckin' cock!" "I was never one to disappoint a lady," he said with a smile. 'Of course, you're no lady,' he thought. But that didn't stop him from sinking all the way into her ass. 'I wonder how many times she's done this,' he thought. 'She can't be new to ass fucking if she's taking this beast so easy.' But it didn't much matter to him who had traveled that road before, as it was just helping pave the way for him. And she was tight back there! Soon, he was filling he butt with meat like it was going out of style, and Girl One could only fondle his balls, fiddle with herself and watch, because he was going too fast for a rim-job. "You're a hot little ho, ain't ya? You like this black dick, don't ya? Tell me how much you like it!" "I love it," Girl Two responded. She was digging her heels into his back as he reamed her something fierce. "I love having cock in my ass!" 'I'll bet you do,' was Jeremy's internal response. But he knew he wouldn't last long. Giving a deep anal-dicking was one of his favorite activities, and he had found a warm and willing bitch to take everything he had to give. And soon, she was taking a load of cum right in her ass. "Oh fuck! Oh shit! Oh damn!" Jeremy said as he deposited his load deep in her bowels. As far as orgasms went, Girl Two was close behind him, fingering herself to climax with his wood still entrenched in her backside. He waited for his sensitive member to shrink before pulling out, enjoying the sight of her quivering body coming down from her own "little death." By the time he pulled out of her gaping sphincter, he heard the moans of Girl One indicating that the other member of their little group had also achieved release. "You were the greatest," Girl Two said as she lay there covered in sweat. Jeremy actually leaned over and gave her one of his "smooth" kisses, then swapped some spit with Girl One. As the three of them disentangled and started getting dressed, something caught Jeremy's eye. It was a pair of cotton panties that didn't belong to either of the two girls he had just fucked. They had to be Torrie's. When neither of the girls was looking, he grabbed those panties and tucked them into his pocket. He knew that was as close as he would ever get to the girl he really wanted, but it would have to do. He'd take them home and masturbate with them, like he had several times before. He cleaned up a bit, making a mental promise to come by and finish the job the next day, and maybe "encourage" Torrie to fill out the applications sitting on her coffee table. 'If I can't get into her pants,' he thought, 'maybe I can at least get into her head.' He escorted the waitresses out the door, locking it behind him. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 01 ------------------- --------------- The following Friday . . . ------------------- --------------- Torrie was in a foul mood. She had been forced to finish checking in a grocery order that should have been done by the guy on the swing shift who had just gotten lazy. Her friends were beginning to pester her again, and it was getting on her nerves despite their genuinely noble intentions. Her parents were going to be gone for another week, so she was stuck cleaning up the house, which she hated. But what really pissed her off was what had happened the previous night. Torrie had been sitting on the counter reading "Les Miserables" when she saw a little silver sports car pulling into the parking lot. Immediately, her heart started beating faster. She didn't see Isabel during the week very often, so she thought she was in for a special treat. She put her book down on the counter where Isabel would be sure to see it. Then Torrie chastised herself for acting like a schoolgirl. "She already knows you read a lot," she told herself. "You don't need to keep shoving it down her throat." She would have moved the book, but she noticed that a couple other girls were climbing out of the car besides Isabel. They were laughing and chatting without a care in the world. Then Isabel's eyes had briefly met Torrie's, then the young debutante's face clouded over and she quickly looked away. 'What the hell . . .?' thought Torrie. Isabel and her friends had sounded more than a little bit tipsy. They had also been very snobbish, wondering why Isabel had insisted on coming by a dive like that store. Isabel had blushed and claimed it was on the way home. Once, Torrie had started to say something to Isabel, and one of the other girls had cut her off rudely, just telling Torrie to "ring up the purchase like a good little peasant." Torrie had been used to such treatment from the social elite, but she had thought she and Isabel were becoming friends. Or at least friendly. But Isabel just stood there, saying nothing. 'Who the fuck was I kidding?' Torrie had thought to herself. 'You knew she was out of your league. This just proves it.' Then the three customers had left, and Torrie was left fuming. She fumed until the next night. It was only fifteen minutes or so until Isabel would normally stroll in, but Torrie was promising herself she wasn't going to made to look or feel like a fool this time. She was going to play it cool and uncaring. It was a combination she had gotten much better at in the last several years. But despite her internal reassurances, she could help but feel her skin flush when she saw that little sports car pull into the parking lot again. --------- ------------------------ Out in the parking lot . . . --------- ------------------------ If anyone could have seen her, they probably would have sworn that Isabel Turner was hyperventilating. She knew it was stupid to have brought her "friends" by last night. She had worked very hard to keep certain aspects of her life separate from one another, then she had gone and broken her own rule. The girls she hung with last night . . . those were the girls from her own level of the social stratosphere. In Isabel's mind, they were a bunch of empty-headed, vapid twits who liked the idea of their lives being handed to them on silver platters. But then there was Torrie. Isabel had no idea why THAT young woman was wasting her time in a place like this. She remembered her from their younger days. Torrie was smart as hell, and had read more than anyone else Isabel had ever met. She had been grades ahead of everyone else in regards to reading level. She had submitted some of her own writing to her public high school's literary magazine. Isabel had recently gone through great trouble to pick up a copy. Torrie was good! Too bad she seemed . . . sadder now. But coming here on Fridays was one of the highlights of Isabel's week, and she may very well have ruined everything. She tried to rationalize it to herself: that she was just trying to keep everything in order until she was ready to tell her parents. "And when were you going to do that?" she muttered to her dashboard. "Hi Mom. Hi Dad. I'm attracted to someone who works graveyard shifts at a gas station. His name? It's not a 'him.' Oh, did I forget to mention your daughter's a lesbian?" Her personal tirade did nothing to make her feel any better. "You could just tell her," she said to the bobble-head doll on her dashboard. "Sure, just tell her you can't talk to her in public because of what a bunch of people you don't even like thinks about her. That'll work. This wasn't supposed to be so complicated." She rested her chin on the steering wheel for a minute, staring through the tainted glass at the lovely young woman inside. Torrie was making a concerted effort NOT to look outside. "Oh yeah," muttered Isabel. "She's pissed." She had made sure to put on her favorite "fuck me" outfit that evening, hoping that might put Torrie in a more forgiving mood. A short skirt and a low-cut blouse tended to make most viewers much more pliable. "Pliable," she said. "That's a good word." She stared at Torrie some more. "She really is hot," Isabel said appreciatively. "The things I could do with that body. All the things I want to do . . ." She shook her head. She knew she was never going get what she wanted by talking to herself out in her car. She had to go in there and try and fix things. She made sure that everything looked perfect, adjusted her breasts and shirt for maximum cleavage, then slowly got out of her car and walked inside. Torrie didn't look up, which made Isabel grimace. She saw that the clerk was reading "Guns and Ammo," and Isabel almost laughed. She knew Torrie would never read crap like that. She was just trying to make a silent point to Isabel. The dark-haired girl also noticed that her favored Diet Vanilla Pepsi was missing from the shelves. She glanced into the cooler as well as she could and saw a large crate of the stuff against the far wall. 'Yep, she's REALLY pissed.' "Hey," she said as she approached the counter. "Hey," was the deadpan response. Torrie didn't even look up. Isabel was at a loss for what to do. "Listen," she said, "I'm . . . I was wondering if you would mind grabbing a bottle of . . ." "Can't. Busy." Torrie said. She knew she was treading on thin ice. A complaint from Isabel could get her fired. But Torrie was feeling very petty at that moment. Isabel sighed and started to walk towards the door. She had started to apologize but had chickened out. Now she was walking away. She glanced at the reflection in the glass door and saw that Torrie was watching her: staring at her ass as she walked. Isabel stopped and straightened her spine. She had to be strong. That's what her friend and mentor Mr. X had always told her: "You have to be strong or they won't obey." She smiled. For so long, Isabel had been looking for someone to enter into a "special" kind of relationship with. But she had looked around her own social circles, and hadn't found anyone she thought would satisfy her. She had found one in this unlikely place, and it was a girl who excited her mind as well as her body. And she wasn't going to give up. She had to be the strong one. "Actually, I think you do have the time," she said, turning and facing Torrie. "I think you're being disobedient because of what happened yesterday. So I hurt your feelings," she said, taking a step towards the pink-haired girl, "so what?" Torrie hopped off the counter and stood her ground. But the clerk was also biting her lip. She was waiting to see where this was going. Isabel continued. "I don't have to answer to you," she said, leaning in. "You answer to me. Some people were meant to be on bottom," she said, and boldly grabbed a firm handful of Torrie's ass, pulling the girl to her, "and some were meant to be on top. I belong to the latter category. You belong to the former. Do you understand me?" Most girls would have been outraged or something to that effect. Most girls would have slapped Isabel for her presumption. Most girls weren't Torrie Jones. Her normally slow-beating heart was going a mile-a-minute at that moment. She had dreamt of a girl like this for years. But she still wasn't sure that Isabel was truly offering what she wanted: Torrie wanted to be controlled, and she wanted to submit to the will of a beautiful woman. She had been interested in that scene for as long as she had been sexually active, and one of her brief relationships had exposed her to the fact that Torrie, without hesitation, liked it a little rough. She had read the works of those who combined the arts of pleasure and pain, trying to understand her feelings. That was why she had been drawn to the works of the Marquis de Sade, and why she had been so hopeful when she saw Isabel reading the same books. "I said, do you understand me?" Isabel growled, breaking Torrie's reverie. She grabbed the back of Torrie's head, gripping her hair tightly as she whispered into Torrie's ear. "I might be willing to overlook your insolence, providing you prove you can behave yourself. I want you to lock the door, put up a sign saying . . . saying that you'll be back in ten minutes or so. Then you will go back to the cooler. Then I'll get my drink, and you'll get what's coming to you." Then she pressed her lips against Torrie's in a kiss that could best be described as savage. And Torrie was kissing back. When Isabel finally pulled back, she gently bit Torrie's bottom lip, pulling it out as she went. She pulled just long enough so that her friend felt the tension, then released. And Torrie looked like she longed for that feeling again. "Now hurry along," Isabel said huskily. "I don't have all night." She turned and headed back in the direction of the cooler door. Torrie was left standing alone by the counter. 'Wasn't I supposed to be being mad at her?' she thought as she breathed heavily. 'Who am I kidding? I've been dreaming of this for months. You were right about her. She was right about you. Are you really going to pass up on this because she dissed you once?' While her brain was trying to figure things out, her body had already sprung into action. Her hand had reached for the note she put on the door when she had to use the bathroom. It said "Back in fifteen minutes." She had to wait a bit because she had a couple of drunk customers show up at the last minute and try to convince her to sell them beer after hours. She refused, they argued, she refused again and finally got them to leave. All the while, she felt a warming sensation down in her underwear. It had been a long time since she had felt this aroused, and she wondered what "punishment" Isabel had in store for her. She walked back and opened the cooler door. Isabel was sitting on stack of 12-packs, her skirt around her waist and her fingers thrust under her panties, buried in that hidden treasure grove. "You made me wait. That is unacceptable," she said. "Come here." Torrie walked toward her on trembling legs. She was captivated by Isabel's nipples, which were straining against her shirt in the cool air. Isabel grabbed the back of Torrie's head and thrust her sticky fingers into the girl's mouth. "Suck on them," she ordered, and Torrie did as she was told, enjoying the taste of this beautiful girl's juices. Isabel held the other girl's head tightly in place until she was satisfied that Torrie had completely cleaned her fingers. Then she leaned in and lightly bit Torrie's ear, eliciting a small whimper. Then she whispered into that ear, "You know a word from me to your manager about your behavior and I could get you fired. But it doesn't have to be like that. What would you be willing to do to avoid it?" Torrie glanced at her feet. "I'll do anything you ask." Isabel's heart was almost catching in her throat. "I'm sure you will. Unbutton your pants. Good, now push them to your knees." As the pink-haired girl obeyed, Isabel found herself staring at a beautifully sculpted, muscular little ass, now covered only by plain cotton panties. Her mouth watered as she considered the possibilities. And she loved how goosebumps erupted all over that pale skin as it was exposed to the cold air. "That underwear is ugly. I don't want you wearing things like that in my presence." She saw a box-cutter nearby and grabbed it. She pulled out the sides of Torrie's underwear and sliced them off while the girl watched. "Much better. Now turn around and bend over these boxes," she commanded. Again, Torrie obeyed. "We don't have as much time as I'd like, so I suppose your punishment will have to be brief . . . for now." She went over to the stack of her favorite soda and grabbed a one-liter bottle. She returned to Torrie's exposed backside and, ever so slowly, inserted the cap into Torrie's pussy opening. Torrie gasped. She had just expected a spanking, but Isabel was a little more original than that. She wondered what other things she had in store for her. They didn't have much time. But she bit her bottom lip as Isabel fucked her with the end of a cold plastic bottle. She felt the wide part of the bottle pressing up against her swollen lips as Isabel tested how far she could take this. Then Torrie felt a hard, stinging slap against one of her butt-cheeks. She moaned. Isabel was going to spank her after all. Isabel thought the sound of her hand smacking against Torrie's behind was one of the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. And she noticed Torrie's moan of pleasure. She gripped that taut cheek tightly, then raised her hand a second time and swatted the other cheek. She pumped the soda bottle a couple more times into that pink cunt. She pulled out the bottle for a moment, grabbed the discarded cotton panties and then rubbed them over Torrie's opening. "Open your mouth," she said. When Torrie opened her mouth, Isabel shoved the well-juiced undergarment into the girl's mouth. "You make too much noise," she said. Actually, she enjoyed hearing the girl's moans, but the sight of Torrie gagging on her own cum-soaked panties was too much to resist. She grabbed the bottle and started fucking the clerk with it again, and the spanking resumed as well. She wished she could pleasure herself as well, but she didn't have time and she was in the process of establishing dominance. There would be time for her own pleasure later. As least she hoped and prayed there would be a "later". "You dirty little slut," she growled. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" SMACK! "What a disgusting whore!" SMACK! "You were rude to me . . ." SMACK! ". . . your superior, and now you're getting off . . ." SMACK! ". . . on getting fucked with a bottle." SMACK! Torrie's ass was almost as pink as her hair by that point, and Isabel could actually see her hand print the girl's skin after every swat. She shoved the bottle in as far as she could, then leaned over Torrie's shivering body and whispered into her ear. "I've been looking for a creature just like you," she said, nibbling on Torrie's ear again. She heard a groan through the panty-gag, and it made her smile. "I'll bet you were waiting for someone like me. Someone who might be able to make a respectable servant out of you." She reached around and pulled the panties out of Torrie's mouth. "Tell me . . ." "God yes!" Torrie whispered. Her voice was strained, but not due to pain. It was ecstasy, pure and simple. "I need this!" "I'll bet you do." Isabel thrust the bottle a few more times before Torrie's opening tried to clamp down on the couple of inches that were buried inside her. Torrie was have her most intense orgasm in years, and it had been brought about after getting spanked and fucked with a plastic bottle in her own cooler. Isabel could only watch in amazement as the girl's body quivered in the throes of sexual release. It was the most perfect thing she had ever seen. "When are you done with work?" she asked huskily. It took Torrie a minute before she could answer. "Seven . . . seven o'clock." "Good," Isabel said. "I want you to wait outside after your shift. I'll pick you up. Do not leave until I get here. Do not attempt to put on any underwear. Actually, give me those disgusting panties of yours . . . and get rid of your bra as well. I want you to go commando from now on, unless I say otherwise. Do you understand? I'll make adjustments to your wardrobe later" Torrie looked up from her bent-over position, lust in her eyes. "Yes ma'am." "Good," Isabel said. "When I come pick you up, we will discuss . . . everything. Do NOT tell anyone about what happened here. Now stand up, and pull your pants up," she said. As Torrie was fixing her clothing, Isabel made a point of sucking the girl's cum off the bottle lid. 'Fuck vanilla,' she thought. 'They need to invent a cum-flavored soda.' She put the bottle down, reached into her purse and shoved a couple dollars into Torrie's pants pocket. "That's for my soda." Then she grabbed the back of Torrie's hair again. But this time, she kissed the other girl, and the kiss was long and sweet. Torrie was a bit taken aback by the kiss, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. Isabel was a good kisser, and her tongue was dancing in Torrie's mouth. "Now thank me for disciplining you," Isabel said. "Thank you," Torrie said, blushing a bit. "I'll be back later. Now go make sure the coast is clear, and then come get me. And remember, tell no one what happened." Torrie looked at the beautiful woman one more time as Isabel adjusted her own clothing a bit. It had been only ten minutes or so and she had only had one orgasm, but it had probably been the most exciting sexual encounter of Torrie's life. And from what Isabel was saying, it was only the beginning. Torrie went outside and saw a couple of people standing next to the door. She unlocked it, apologized for the wait and hurried to help them with whatever they wanted. She noticed a couple of guys spending more time checking her out than etiquette normally allowed. 'Do they know?' she asked of herself. 'Can they tell that I'm basically in heat right now?' Eventually, she cleared the stored out and went to the cooler. Isabel strolled out, drinking her now infamous soda and walking with and exaggerated and deliberate swing in her hips. And with a sly backward glance, she was out the door and in her car. For the rest of the night, Torrie would dream of what was in store for her. --------------- ----------- Out in the car . . . --------------- ----------- Isabel Turner's head was on Cloud Nine. She had never believed in a million years that things would have gone so well or that she would have been so turned on. Even as she pulled out of the parking lot, she hitched up her skirt again and started masturbating while she drove. She was glad that her two-bedroom apartment that her parents paid for wasn't very far, otherwise she would have crashed her car. She had two fingers curled up in the front, stimulating her g-spot. Even when she pulled into her reserved parking spot, she kept at it. As her fingers penetrated her honey pot, she imagined Torrie's face between her thighs . . . her . . . slave . . . licking her cunt. "Fuck!" she groaned as she rubbed her clit with her thumb, setting off her climax. Her ass was slick with sweat and was sliding across the leather seat. Her fingers were buried deep inside as her body shook with pleasure. "Shit, now I have to clean my car. I've got to do it before I pick up . . . oh God, I don't know what I'm doing!" Isabel realized with a sudden clarity that she was on the verge of bringing home a very attractive young woman, who she had just spanked in a cooler, and sexually dominating her. She had been waiting for years for someone like Torrie to come along, and she suddenly had stage fright. She had been training with a man named Mr. X for a while, but this was it . . . her first submissive. She hoped. She started running through the list of 'toys' she had in her apartment, trying to plan the morning. She pushed her skirt back down and grabbed some tissues out of the glove compartment. She quickly cleaned up the seat and headed up to her place. She only had about four hours until show time. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 01 ------------ ------------------- About four hours later . . . ------------ ------------------- Torrie was more than a little nervous. She was standing outside, smoking an unfiltered Camel and waiting for Isabel to show up. Just as requested, she was waiting for Isabel. Her underwear was still in Isabel's purse for all she knew, and her bra had found its way into the garbage. She was wondering what she had gotten herself into. Was this going to be a one-time thing? What were the rules? Torrie put out a cigarette that she had just lit. What if Isabel didn't like smokers? Finally, a familiar little car pulled up, and the window rolled down just a bit. "Get in," came the feminine voice from inside. Torrie did as she was told. She found herself sitting in the passenger's seat, wringing her hands nervously. Isabel was sitting next to her, wearing a long black leather trench coat. She grabbed Torrie's hair and pulled her in for another savage kiss. She shoved a hand into Torrie's pants and started fingering her cunt. Torrie just sat there and let Isabel do whatever she wanted. "You're wet," Isabel purred, shoving those fingers into Torrie's mouth. "That's good." She let go of Torrie, who was breathing harder than she had ever done before in her life. Her hands were trembling a bit as they grabbed the wheel. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Torrie staring. Isabel cracked a smile. "I guess you've realized that I . . . I've never really done this before." Torrie smiled, blushed, and looked down at her own hands. "Neither have I. Ma'am." "Well, I guess we'll just have to play this by ear." Isabel headed for the apartment. When they arrived, she ordered Torrie to open her door for her, some of the firmness returning to her voice. She got out, bent Torrie over the hood for just a moment and landed a strong stroke on her denim-clad backside. 'Okay, I need to give this girl a change in style. These clothes don't do her body justice.' "Follow me," she said and walked quickly towards her door. She had to get inside before someone she knew spotted her. She unlocked the door, then had Torrie open it. Soon, they were both inside. She positioned Torrie in the middle of the room. "Take off your clothes and give them to me." As Torrie began to remove her clothes, Isabel got impatient. "You're taking too long." She grabbed a pair of scissors. "Hold still." She cut Torrie's shirt off. She meant to start work on the girl's beat-up jeans, but the muscles of her toy's back captivated her. She drug her fingernails across those taut muscles, making Torrie's skin light up with goosebumps. "Take your pants off. And hurry." Torrie quickly unbuttoned her faded jeans and removed them. She was standing naked in the middle of the room. Then she heard some rustling behind her and the sound of clothes hitting the floor. Then Isabel came into view. Under that trenchcoat, she had been wearing a pink leather corset and matching pink thong. And that was about it. Isabel's incredible cleavage was prominently displayed, her nipples barely covered by the cups of her garment. She grabbed one of Torrie's small but pert breasts quite roughly, tugging on the nipple until the girl yelped. Then she did the same to the other breast. "Just so that we're clear, this isn't about your behavior at the store any more. This isn't about your job. This is about you learning your place. Do you understand me?" Isabel said while squeezing both of Torrie's nipples at the same time. "Yes!" Torrie hissed, her breasts throbbing under Isabel's attention. "You will speak when I tell you to. You will do what I tell you to. You will pleasure me whenever, wherever and however I say. Do you understand?" "Yes ma'am," returned Torrie, staring longingly at the body of a woman she had fantasized about for months. "Good," Isabel said, twisting the girl's nipples again. Torrie gasped, and only partially from the pain. Isabel had her aroused, and she knew it. "I don't think a single session will be enough, do you?" Isabel waited for a response, slightly fearful. 'Is that how a dominatrix asks a submissive if she wants to go steady?' She almost laughed at her own thoughts. "No ma'am." Torrie was hoping that Isabel's question meant what she thought it meant. "Of course not," Isabel snapped, pulling on those now incredibly sensitive nubs one more time, making Torrie gasp. "Once isn't good enough for you. Why? Because you're a little slut! You're a common whore. Well, now you're MY whore. Soon, I'll have you acting and dressed for the part. For now, get on your knees!" She grabbed the back of Torrie's head and slowly pushed the girl until she was in a kneeling position. "Now put your hands behind you. Excellent." Torrie felt cold metal encircling her wrists as Isabel produced a set of handcuffs from somewhere and locked them in place. Torrie was a little nervous, but it was almost completely drowned out by the excitement. She stared at the ground as Isabel wandered around, finally stopping directly in front of her, those wonderful round butt-cheeks right in front of her. "I seem to remember bring myself to climax earlier, but I didn't have an opportunity to clean up. Get that tongue moving. And don't skip my asshole. Do you understand me you little bitch?" "Yes ma'am," Torrie responded. Isabel reached back and spread her cheeks, and Torrie tentatively started probing the crack. The woman smelled like sex, and that's what Torrie liked. "You call that cleaning?" Isabel growled. She grabbed the top of Torrie's hair and held the girl's face against her backside. Torrie immediately started licking and probing her Mistress's asshole and lower slot. Isabel was grinding Torrie's face against her beautiful ass so much that Torrie was afraid she'd get a crick in her neck. Isabel turned around. "I see that you have a lot to learn." She took off her thong, then thrust her crotch into Torrie's face, and Torrie started to lick again. It was a horribly uncomfortable angle, and Isabel was treating Torrie's head like a stress ball. But Torrie was loving it! She loved Isabel's cunt. It was perfectly pink, swollen and juicy. She had her tongue in as far as she could. Normally she would use her hands to help get a girl off, but that tool had been denied her. Isabel kept maneuvering her slave's head, diverting her from direct pleasuring and forcing her to clean up the residue from Isabel's earlier masturbation session. When that girl was pleased with Torrie's efforts, which took a while, Torrie was finally allowed to lick entirely for Isabel's pleasure. She sucked on the area around Isabel's clit, and the dominant female began to shudder. Soon, she was cumming up a storm, and it was a wet one. Isabel's perfect body in the throes of orgasm was the most beautiful thing Torrie had ever seen. "You made a mess," Isabel said disapprovingly. She rubbed her puffy wet lips all over Torrie's face, then ordered the girl to clean up the remaining jizz. Torrie dutifully obeyed. Then Isabel went over and grabbed a chair from her dining area, forcing Torrie to lie stomach first on the seat. "Because your initial efforts were so inept, I'm afraid I'll have to punish you." Torrie strained her neck as her captor wandered over and grabbed a few items out of a drawer. The first was a ball-gag, which was inserted into Torrie's mouth and secured around her neck. Then Torrie was tied to the seat of the chair with a length of rope and her knees were tied to the legs of the chair. She was completely at Isabel's mercy. Isabel kneeled in front of her captive, wielding a small paddle and a slim-line vibrator. "This is where you belong. You know that, don't you? By the time I'm done, you'll never be uppity with me again." Then she disappeared from Torrie's view. Torrie felt the smooth sides of the vibrator being pushed into her box. It wasn't a particularly big device, but it didn't have to be. Once it was in up to the handle, Isabel switched it on. Then she used some more rope wrapped around and between her thighs to secure the vibrating toy in place. Torrie was waiting for the first swat of the paddle while savoring the humming of the device buried in her body. But Isabel had another surprise. She glanced to the side and saw Isabel setting up a tripod and a digital video camera. Isabel saw that she was being watched. "Practice makes perfect. You will watch this tape in the future, and hopefully it will help you learn to behave." Once the camera was set up and rolling, Isabel walked behind Torrie. "Remember, this is for your own good." And with that, the first paddle fell. Torrie felt pain and pleasure shoot through her body. It had been a good swing, but not too hard. Isabel apparently wanted this to last. The vibrator inside her box was keeping her at a heightened state of arousal almost constantly, and she already felt on the verge of orgasm. She moaned and groaned into her gag. She strained against her bonds, relishing the feel of nylon rope against her skin. Isabel was being patient with her swings, but it was difficult for her to concentrate. Even as the skin of Torrie's ass began to turn as pink as her hair, Isabel's attention was captured by the girl's muscles as they fought against their confinement. 'My little slut is in heat,' she thought, still amazed at how fortunate she had gotten. 'To think that I almost walked away from this!' After the tenth stroke, she saw that Torrie wasn't straining anymore. She was shaking. "Are you . . . are you having and orgasm? Are you getting cum on my chair?!?" Isabel was trying to sound offended, but she was secretly aroused as hell. "I can't believe you. Ten more strokes!" A few minutes later, Torrie's ass was stinging so much that she was almost ready to cry. But she wasn't ready to quit. She heard commotion behind her, the Isabel appeared. This time, she was wearing a strap-on. It was about six inches long and pink. Isabel removed Torrie's gag. "I see I have my work cut out for me. You take too long to clean my pussy. You cum on my chair. I guess we need to start with the basics." With very little finesse, she shoved the fleshy pink toy into Torrie's mouth until the girl gagged. "This is a skill you need to know. You never know what I may ask you to do or who I might tell you to service. Now open your mouth in an 'O' shape so I can fuck it." Torrie was a little panicked by the phrase ". . . who I might tell you to service." But she wasn't given much time to think about it. Isabel's thrusts were coming quick and hard. Every time, she made Torrie gag. Soon, the bound girl was actually leaking tears. She had never had anything like that in her mouth before. Finally, Isabel stopped and pulled out, and strings of drool fell out of Torrie's mouth. "That's a good start," Isabel crooned, stroking the side of Torrie's face gently. Isabel grabbed another chair and positioned it in front of Torrie. She sat down and spread her legs, scooting the chair even closer. "I shouldn't even need to tell you what to do, but I will. Eat my pussy, and don't stop until I tell you to." Torrie was having a hard time concentrating. Her lips and throat were sore, she was sweating like a pig and the vibrator buried in her cunt was still giving off a low thrum. But she wasn't going to disappoint Isabel. She started lapping like a dog, scooping her tongue from bottom to top between those wet lips. Isabel was rubbing her own clit in small circles while her new pet devoured her honey pot. But while her body was fast approached release, her mind was straining to figure out what should happen next. 'I don't want her to go, but how do I ask her to stay? And do I want her to stay as my slave or as . . . as a friend. Fuck, she's good! What if someone drops by? God, what if Dad calls?!?' But one look at the sweat and cum covered face of Torrie helped make up her mind. She wanted the girl to stay. She was so glad it was Saturday. She was pretty sure she could ensure their privacy until the evening. "Oh fuck!" she exclaimed, her pleasure escaping her lips against her will. Torrie's oral attention had brought her to climax one more time. And much to her delight, Torrie was having an orgasm of her own. Both girls' bodies were shaking and the cum flowed like wine. And Torrie never stopped, because Isabel didn't tell her to. "Okay, you can stop now. You did well . . . my little slut." Isabel thought about and decided 'to fuck with proper domination etiquette!' She got on her knees and kissed Torrie. It was as long, sweet and wonderful as the one back at the store. 'No,' Isabel thought. 'It's better.' She stood up and proceeded to untie Torrie. She saw all sorts of marks where the rope had been a little too tight, and it made her wince. She knew she had to do better the next time. Once Torrie was completely freed of her restraints and the vibrator was removed and deactivated, she remained unmoving on the chair. She was breathing hard, and her hair was plastered against her head. She gripped Torrie by the shoulders. "Can you stand?" Torrie turned her head. She looked thoroughly exhausted and totally satisfied. She nodded. She braced herself by putting her hands on the chair and started to stand, only to find one of her feet had gone to sleep. Isabel caught her before she could fall and helped her into the bedroom and onto the plush, queen-sized bed. Isabel laid the girl down, front-first onto the pink comforter. Torrie watched as her captor and savior removed her own regalia, then went into the bathroom. She returned with a warm washcloth and a bottle of lotion. She gently cleaned up her friend, then rubbed the lotion into the skin where the rope had dug in. Her mentor, Mr. X, had told her it might help. Torrie was confused thought not altogether displeased with the treatment. It was quite a contrast to the rough play they had just engaged in, but it was pleasant in its own way. "I'm going to take a shower. Try and stay awake for a few minutes. I need to talk to you." Isabel wandered off and took a much quicker shower than she was used to, then she returned. Despite her request, Torrie had already nodded off. 'Poor girl,' she thought. 'She's probably been awake for almost twenty-four hours. And she did so well . . .' She lay beside the prone girl, pressing her large breasts into Torrie's side. Then she nudged Torrie until she woke up. "Sorry," the girl mumbled. "I didn't mean . . ." "It's okay. We'll let it slide this time," Isabel said with a smile. Then she looked quizzical. "How long have you known?" "Known . . . what?" "That this is what you wanted?" Torrie's lips formed a gentle smile. It looked good on her. "I was eighteen. I'd been sexually active for a couple of years already, but it was all pretty boring. I had just started working at a fast-food joint right down the road from a gym. There were these two . . . two bull dykes . . . not the fat hairy kind but the solid muscle kind . . . they came in every day. I'm not sure, but I think I flirted with them. Strange, but I never found them attractive . . . not really. But there was something about the way they carried themselves . . . it just excited me." Torrie stopped. She had never told anyone this story before. Not even Rachel knew about it. "One day, things were slow and I was mopping the floor next to the bathroom when they came in. They looked at me and smiled. I knew what they wanted. They led me by the hand into the bathroom . . . accused me of being a tease." She chuckled. "Then they told me that if I didn't walk out right then and there, they would show me what they did to teases." "You didn't walk out?" "No. And then they had their way with me. I ate both of them out, right there in the restroom. They didn't care if I got off or not, as long as they did. But I did get off. Neither of them touched me down there, but I came right in my uniform. Once they were done, they just . . . left me there. And I wanted them to come back. I was ashamed, but that made me . . . it made me even more excited. I told my boss that I'd spilled something on myself. I had to work the rest of the day in stained pants." Isabel was picturing the young woman being sexually manhandled in a bathroom while begging for more. It was an intoxicating image. "Did they ever come back?" "No. I never saw them again." Torrie blushed. "God, you . . . you must think I'm a total slut." Isabel kissed her on the cheek. "I hope so. It'll make things much more fun if you are." She sighed. "But there's something you should know. No one . . . and I mean no one . . . can know about us. I know that pisses you off, but that's the way it has to be. None of my family or friends even knows I'm gay, much less that . . . that I do this sort of thing. I had to be very discreet when learning about all this. Everything I've learned, I learned from a man named Mr. X. He runs and owns a fetish club on the outskirts of town. It's called Dark Eden." "I've heard of it. Never had the money or nerve to try and go there." "I wish you had," Isabel whispered, kissing Torrie on the shoulder. "I might have gotten to know you long before I did. I've been waiting so long for something like this. I don't want to wait anymore." "You don't . . . have to. I'm sorry, but . . . I don't know what this means." Torrie wasn't sure if she knew how to phrase what she was feeling. But Isabel understood. "You're mine now. And I take care of what's mine." She gripped one of Torrie's tight butt cheeks. "And . . . and I like you." Torrie blushed. "What about you? How long have you known?" Isabel smiled. "Hey, I'm the one in charge. That's a story for another time, and I order you to get some sleep." "Yes ma'am." And like a light, Torrie was out again. Isabel got up, closed up the blinds and turned off the light. She set her alarm, then curled up next to Torrie again. Soon, she was asleep as well. ------------ -------------- A few hours later . . . ------------ -------------- 'Damn it,' Rachel thought. The ear-piercing shriek of her cell phone was distracting her from her favorite activity. With a noisy slurp, she released the cock in her mouth, much to the chagrin of the recipient of one of her famous blowjobs. "Fuck! It's Jeremy! Keep quiet!" she told her male companion. She flipped the phone open with one hand while leisurely stroking her friend's cock in the other. "What'cha wantin'?" "Hey Sis," came the voice from the other end. "Have you seen Torrie today?" She rolled her eyes. Her brother's thinly veiled obsession with Torrie was unnerving at times. "No. It's not even noon. She's probably asleep." "Nah. I just swung by her place. I was supposed to help her do laundry today and . . ." "Jesus Jeremy! Did you take a girl back to her apartment again? It's the only reason you ever help her with laundry!" "Hey, a man's got needs!" he said. She rolled her eyes, took a quick lick of the dick in her hand, then went back to the conversation. "Well, is she not at home?" "No. Her folks got back yesterday, and they said she didn't come home. They're worried, and I thought Torrie might be with you." "No, no she's not." Now Rachel was actually worried. Torrie had been a bit out of sorts lately and it had been getting worse. "You don't think she went and did somethin' stupid, do you?" "Maybe she was running errands this morning. Or maybe she got lucky." "You just can't let it go, can you?" She was teasing her brother, but she was also concerned. Sex was something else Torrie hadn't expressed much interest in, or she might have been willing to accept Jeremy's suggestion. "Listen, if she hasn't shown up by this afternoon, we'll worry. 'kay?" "I guess . . ." Jeremy mumbled. "Could you call Frank and ask him to keep an eye out?" Twenty Years to Life Ch. 01 "I'll get a hold of him. I'll talk to you later." She sighed, then took another suck on the nearby cock. Then she looked up at the owner of that particular meat stick. "Torrie didn't come home this morning." Frank sighed. He had been very quiet for the entire conversation. If Jeremy ever found out his best friend was banging his sister on a regular basis, there would probably be some blood being spilled. "I gathered that . . . oh sweet . . ." Rachel's beautiful, dark lips had encircled his member and were sliding their way down. He had a good seven-inch dick, which seemed to fill her mouth up just perfectly. They had been dating in secret for almost a year. And Frank didn't mind that she fucked other guys. Actually, he got off on it. This little session had begun after she told him about her quickie with Charlie the previous week. "Are you sure you want to do this now? I wouldn't mind going and . . . and . . ." Once Rachel's mouth was around his organ, Frank tended to lose the power of coherent speech. Rachel pulled off, then started stroking again. "There's not much we can do," she said, pulling her shirt off and unclasping her bra. Soon, her large black titties were swinging in the breeze. "I think it might be a little early for blind panicking. Besides, I need to vent now." She hated having sex in the front seat of Frank's truck, but it was the most convenient place for them to do it. Luckily, it was a full-sized vehicle. She got on her knees on the passenger side and waited for him to scoot over. "Hurry up," she told him. "Yessa mastah!" he said. He knew it drove her nuts when he talked like this. "I do whatever you says!" But he did scoot over, managing to get his feet on either side of her. She cradled his balls in one hand while sucking his dick down to the root. "Your brother would KILL me if he knew about this." "Then we won't tell him until he goes off to work somewhere." With his pole nice and wet, she pulled her mouth away and pushed her weighty melons together on either side, capturing his meat between them. She bounced up and down a little, treating him to a wonderful titty fuck. He loved it when she did that. The light brown head of his cock kept peeking up at her from her cleavage, and she gave it a lick whenever she could. Even as he pumped away between her breasts, his mind wandered to their earlier conversation. "So, have you ever fucked more than one guy at a time?" Rachel grinned. "Nope. I've done a bunch of guys in one week, but never at one time." She pressed her breasts together even harder. "Why? That turn you on? You wanna see lil' ol' me sandwhiched between a couple guys? One in my cunt and the other in my ass? You know that only one guy ever gets to go in my ass." She felt him fuck her tits harder. She knew she was getting to him. "Maybe you'd like to see one in my pink little pussy while another cums in my mouth? Like a Chinese finger trap? I'd bet you'd like to see that, wouldn't you? Bet you'd love to be one of those guys . . ." Frank leaned over and kissed her, stopped her oration. Then he pulled on her shoulders and helped her squeeze out of her current position. Then he had her on all fours in the cab of the truck. He quickly plunged into her warm depths. "Oh, doin' it like a man," Rachel said, egging him on. She felt his chest lie flat on her back and his hands reaching around to fondly her tits while he drilled her from behind. "I like it when a man does that. Maybe it's why I let so many guys have a go." "How many? Tell me again." He was fucking her as hard as he could given the constrained space. Rachel liked it like this; down and dirty. As her pussy was repeatedly penetrated, she started running off the names of the guys she had fucked and the things she had done with them. And it only got Frank more excited. She rolled down the window so she could grab onto the door of the truck while he went to town on her. They had parked in a remote spot in a large public park. She wasn't worried if anyone saw them. If someone did, she was in the kind of mood where she might ask him or her if they wanted to join the two of them. She was just that horny. "Harder! Harder! C'mon, Charlie fucked me harder than that!" This last statement was a bold-faced lie. Charlie never fucked her that hard. He was afraid she wouldn't be able to handle that much dick that fast. He was probably right, but Frank didn't need to know that. It was much more fun to tease him. She let go of the door with one hand so she could reach back and toy with her clitoris while he fucked her. His angle of entry was perfect for deep penetration, and soon she felt her pussy quiver and quake. "I'm cumming! Fuck me hard, cause I'm (gasp) . . ." Frank gave a few more pumps before pulling out. He was close himself, and he wanted to watch his girlfriend cum. He saw the skin of her inner thighs growing shiny as her juices leaked out. She was still playing with herself as her back arched and with one final shudder, it was over. "If you're not busy, I've got somethin' for you," Frank said, stroking his rod. Rachel turned around as quickly as she could, finding herself face to face with Franks piece just before it shot off. A copious amount of his white stuff began shooting against her face. She opened her mouth to catch the last few bursts, getting a good load of man candy. She swallowed what was immediately available, then licked around her lips. "You're TOO good to me baby!" Frank said, smiling from ear to ear. "Better than you deserve, bee-atch! Hand me a tissue." Rachel cleaned up her face a bit, then gave Frank a friendly kiss. "But one of these days, there's gonna be some payback. Like fucking me in a proper hotel room or somethin'." "Nothings to good for my girl. Except for acknowledging our relationship out of fear for my life." "Soon. I promise. Now help me get dressed. I've got a couple ideas where Torrie might have gone." -------------- -------------- A few hours later . . . -------------- -------------- Torrie awoke with a start. She was completely disoriented. Finally, she remembered where she was, and what had brought her there. "Lazy little tramp," came a voice from the doorway. "I thought you were going to sleep all day." Torrie looked up and saw Isabel standing there, looking . . . perfect. She had already gotten ready for a night on the town. Those were her rich-girl party clothes. Isabel was going out. And Torrie knew that she wasn't going with her. Isabel walked forward and put a purse on the bed, next to a set of clothes that were laid out next to Torrie's prostrated form. "I got you some things to wear. I can't have you walking around naked and embarrassing me." Actually, Isabel didn't think that Torrie would have anything to be embarrassed about with that rock-hard body, but she was re-establishing control. "The clothes on the bed are for you to wear. I'll call a cab for you to take you home. As I mentioned, I can't afford to be seen with you. In the purse is another set of clothes. You will carry this purse with you at all times. When I'm ready for you again, you will wear the clothes that are in the bag. Also in the purse is a pre-paid cell phone. You will not make calls on it. You will only answer calls, and those will always be from me. I will call, you'll change clothes, and you'll wait for me. I shouldn't need to tell you what will happen if you fail to follow my instructions. Oh, and there's a copy of the tape I took of last night. I want you to watch it and learn. I expect you to improve your oral skills and obedience by next time. Now stand up so I can dress you." Torrie slowly made her way to her feet. There were a few bruises and red spots from the morning's activities, but Torrie didn't mind. The reward had been worth it. The exhilaration had been worth it. She bowed her head as Isabel dressed her. She was put in some comfortable sweat-pants and an indecently tight shirt. Not something she would normally wear. The shirt was a little sexier than was normal for her, and she was pretty sure the sweat pants were chosen for her comfort, though Isabel would never admit it. Isabel stopped and pinched Torrie's nipples through the shirt, making those hard little nubs stand out against the fabric. "There. Now you look a bit more presentable," Isabel said. Her hands rested a little longer that she planned on those small firm mounds on Torrie's chest. "Do you understand what I expect of you?" Torrie's face flushed. "Yes ma'am." "Good." Isabel was staring at Torrie's face. In spite of her attempts to be stern, she found herself kissing the pink-haired girl again. "I'll go call a cab. As soon as the coast is clear, you'll go out to the street corner to wait for it. You'll hear from me soon." Isabel called a taxi. Before Torrie could go out to meet it, Isabel got some information from her, such as her measurements and her work schedule. Torrie didn't know why, but she didn't need to. 'Ours is not to question why . . .' she thought. Finally she was dismissed. She was sore and still a bit tired. But mostly she was anxious. She wondered when she would be called to serve Isabel again. When she got out to the street and was waiting for her ride to arrive, curiosity overcame her and she glanced in the purse. "Good God! She wants me to wear this?!? Inside the apartment, Isabel was still leaning against her door, breathing heavily. She was wondering if she had gotten in over her head. But the naughty part of her mind couldn't wait to find out. ------------- ------------------------ Back at Torrie's apartment . . . ------------- ------------------------ "Torrie! Sweetie, where have you been?" The moment she showed up back at her parents' place, Torrie's mother went a little nuts. "We've been so worried! Jeremy was here and . . ." Torrie tuned out her mother's admonishments. 'Shit,' she thought. 'I forgot Jeremy was coming over today. And I probably should have called someone to let them know I wouldn't be coming home in the morning. Crap!' She looked at her mother. "Sorry Mom. I ran into an old friend and we just got to talking. I didn't realize how late it was. I'm sorry, I should've called." Her mother (eventually) was placated by Torrie's excuses. Torrie felt kind of weird. She was only slightly lying, but it was more than she usually did with her parents. And she knew that Jeremy wouldn't buy the excuse. She'd come up with something for her friends later. "Mom, I'm really tired. I'm going to go take a nap. If Jeremy comes by, tell him . . . tell him I appreciate the offer of help, but I'll take care of stuff on my own. He'll know what I'm talking about. See you." Torrie hurried up to her room and into her own bed. But even as she lay down, she noticed a creeping sense of boredom creeping into her soul. It was familiar, but not welcome. She knew the only thing that would alleviate it was Isabel. She looked at her coffee table where her college applications and her application to the welding program were awaiting her signature. She blew them off, like she had done every day for quite some time. She curled up in her bed, waiting for her new phone to ring. -------------- --------------- To be continued . . . Twenty Years to Life Ch. 02 This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. ------------- ----------------------- The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author's permission. This story takes place in the entirely fictional city of Springfield, California, so don't go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD's, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex. Also, although this story (and subsequent chapters) are placed in the "Novels and Novellas" category, that is primarily because no other single category made any more sense. This overall storyline has some aspects of group sex, interracial sex, lesbian sex, heterosexual sex, anal sex, as well as BDSM sexual activity. If any of these types of activities bother you, you might want to stop reading now. -------------- ------------------------ Torrie was squirming on one of the crude wooden benches that littered the upper story of the Eastside Mall. She had been sitting there for almost half an hour and had drawn a bit of attention. The fact that she was an attractive twenty-two year old with bright pink hair and a killer body wasn't the only reason. She was also dressed for all the world like a cheap hooker. She had on a leather mini-skirt that was far too short, no panties, stiletto heels and a fishnet top over a satin bra. She also was wearing candy-apple-red lipstick, blue eye shadow and a very noticeable perfume. It was the sort of outfit she never would have worn just three months earlier, but that was before Isabel Turner took control of Torrie's life. Isabel was Torrie's mistress. They had known each other on and off for a while, but several months earlier, Torrie had become Isabel's sexual submissive. Torrie had always been aroused by strong personalities, and Isabel had just such a countenance. Isabel had spent some time one evening making sure that Torrie would be "compliant" enough, then took the girl into the cooler at the convenience store where she worked, spanked her to orgasm while fucking her with a plastic bottle, then took her home the next day. Torrie had a closet full of clothes like the ones she was wearing that Isabel had bought for her to wear. Isabel's parents were rich and generous in regards to their daughter, so Isabel had splurged on the sluttiest, nastiest outfits she could think of for Torrie to wear. She like her submissive to behave as a whore and Torrie would do whatever Isabel asked of her. Because Isabel was the only person who made Torrie feel alive. For years, Torrie had become increasingly discontent with her life, and the buxom brunette that was Isabel Turner had made Torrie's heart beat again. Isabel was wandering aimlessly on the other side of the second story of the mall. She had a scarf on over her head and was wearing sunglasses, as she didn't want to be recognized. She came from wealth, as her father owned a series of very successful clothing stores up and down the California coastline, and had his fingers in a number of other businesses as well. And he wanted Isabel to be a prominent part of the family business. She had been trained her whole life to take over when he retired. She often wondered what he would do if he found out that his only daughter was a lesbian who was playing bondage games with a girl who worked at a gas station and was miles below the Turner family in regards to the social scale. But Isabel couldn't think about that at the moment. All she could think about was the beautiful girl sitting across from her on the park bench. She had called Torrie on the cell-phone that she had provided the girl (and only Isabel knew the number for) and made sure she was ready for "pick-up," which was Torrie's cue to get into one of her costumes. She had brought Torrie to this public place, taken her into a public bathroom, spanked her several time when she was sure they were alone, then stuck some vibrating pleasure balls into the girl's dripping pussy. Then she had instructed Torrie to go sit on that bench until she received a signal from Isabel to return to the car. She had come to the conclusion that human males could sense a girl in heat, as they had flocked to Torrie like dogs. She saw Torrie blush as they made crude comments and advances. Isabel could only imagine the humiliation that Torrie was feeling as her body unwillingly moved her towards orgasm as she was pawed at by strangers. Torrie had been forbidden from touching herself or doing anything to relieve her growing arousal. She was told to flirt with anyone who came on to her, but then to send whoever it was on his way. It was that humiliation that turned both girls on, and only Isabel was allowed to end it. Isabel wandered by and saw that Torrie was alone. She signaled for the girl to spread her legs slightly, which Torrie did. Isabel got a good look up the girl's skirt and the glistening delight between the girl's thighs. She motioned for Torrie to close her legs before wandering off, leaving her submissive to almost literally stew in her own juices for a while. Just then, she heard a voice behind her. "Isabel?" She turned and saw Janine Carpenter standing there, and her heart involuntarily jumped. Janine had been her best friend for many years before Janine's family fell into hard times. Her parents had gotten divorced after her father was sent to jail for tax evasion, and Janine and her mother had found themselves struggling to make ends meet. When Janine's economic standing went down the toilet, so did her social standing and all of their friends had completely cut her off. Only Isabel still spoke to her, and even she didn't go out of her way to do so. Isabel felt a pang of guilt about that. Janine was a pretty girl with long brown hair and a pleasing figure, and the two had "experimented" a few times when they were younger. Janine was one of the only people who knew about Isabel's lesbianism. And like a REAL friend, Janine had kept Isabel's secret. Isabel hugged her friend with genuine warmth. She hated the social rules that separated them, but she had to keep up appearances if she expected to inherent her father's business. But Janine had come from that world, and she understood all too well the rules of it all. "Janine!" she said back, then got her voice back under control. "It's been too long." "I know. I'm sorry I've been too busy to call." Both girls knew that wasn't the reason, but it was a pleasant enough lie. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be rather be caught dead than be caught shopping here?" Isabel released the girl from her hug, but made sure that Janine's back was facing Torrie. Isabel needed to keep an eye on her servant and make sure she behaved. "There was something I couldn't find at Park Place Mall, so I decided to slum and try here. Just a pair of shoes I was looking for. What are you doing here?" "Working," Janine said, blushing. She remembered the days when "working" was a four letter word for young debutantes such as herself. "I got a job at Victoria's Secrets. It's not much, but it helps pay the bills until I graduate. I'm a semester behind due to . . . transferring credits and everything." After her sudden plunge into relative poverty, Janine had transferred to the less expensive and less prestigious Cal State University. Isabel smiled. Janine was a smart cookie, and Isabel knew she would be okay. Once Isabel was in a better position, she would try and help her friend out. Thinking about that made her feel a little better. She glanced over Janine's shoulder and saw that Torrie was glancing over, wondering what her mistress was doing talking to another girl. Torrie was also gripping the edge of the bench, and Isabel knew the girl was having an orgasm. The vibrating pleasure balls had done their damage. Torrie was trying to divert the advances of a couple teenage boys while keeping her orgasm under control. But Isabel had seen that complexion and that rigidity of form too many times in the prior months to be fooled. She smiled to herself and turned back to Janine. "You look good," she said, meaning every word. Janine actually looked . . . healthier. "I . . . you know," the other girl started, "I think being poor may have been one of the best things that ever happened to me." Isabel looked confused. "I mean, I appreciate stuff more than I used to. I still wish I had more of it, but I appreciate what I have." She lapsed into an awkward silence. "I'm sorry. I know I've been a lousy friend," Isabel started. "No, you haven't. I . . .I understand the position you're in. I'd have done the same things if I was in your shoes, and we both know it. Besides, I'm doin' all right. I came out, by the way. To my mom." "Really? What did she say?" Isabel's curiosity was piqued. "She freaked a bit, but she suspected for a while. I think she's suspected since . . ." Janine looked at her feet. She didn't want to bring up those wonderful weeks at rich-girl camp they had spent together when they were teenagers. "You're braver than I am," Isabel retorted, a little bitterly. She hated having to lie to her parents to keep their approval. She hated having to keep her relationship with Torrie a secret, and she hated not being able to hang out with people she actually liked because they didn't belong to the social elite. The lull in conversation became longer and more awkward. "Listen," Janine started at last, "I've got to get back to work. I . . . I'll see you around sometime?" "Count on it," Isabel returned. Both girls wanted to believe what they had just said, but neither quite could. Janine wandered off to her place of employment, and Isabel looked back at her girlfriend . . . servant. She motioned with her head, and Torrie got off the bench (which had a wet spot on it) and wandered out to the parking lot. Isabel had parked in a remote area so that no one was likely to see them together. "What a dirty slut," she growled, staring at Torrie's ass as they walked to the car. "You're just a fucking bitch in heat. You got off in plain view of the entire mall, you harlot!" When they got to the car, she could see Torrie's face flush with excitement. She glanced around and when she saw no one in the area, she pushed Torrie forward until the pink-haired girl was bent over the hood of her car. She stuck her hand under the girl's skirt and inserted two fingers into the girl's pussy. Torrie gasped as her private area was violated in such a public place. Of course, Isabel's primary focus was to retrieve the vibrating pleasure balls buried in Torrie's body, but her mistress wasn't above treating the submissive to a little finger action in the process. Then the fingers and the sex toys were removed, leaving Torrie feeling hollow. But the rapid series of four short, hard spanks against her exposed bottom made her feel alive again. She involuntarily ground her crotch against the corner of Isabel's sports car with each swat. "Don't you DARE get my car dirty," Isabel growled, reaching around and grabbing Torrie's chin, lifting her head up. She pushed that face against the damp spot on the hood. "Feel that? That's what you did to my car! Open my door for me." After Torrie did as told and Isabel was seated, she closed the door. Isabel rolled down the window, stuck her hand out and thrust her fingers under the girl's miniskirt again. She was so hot and wet that Isabel was trying hard to resist the urge to go down on her in the car. But she had to remain in command of the situation. After a few quick fingerings, she withdrew her hand and wiped it on Torrie's hip. "Get in." Torrie hurried around to the other side and climbed in, and soon the two of them were speeding towards Isabel's apartment. "Did you get this Friday off like I asked?" Isabel asked, her eyes on the road. "Yes ma'am," Torrie responded, her gaze on her lap. "Your birthday." "I know what day it is," Isabel responded, but she couldn't help but smile. Normally she had to remind her friends what day her birthday was repeatedly, but she had mentioned it once to Torrie in an offhand manner and the girl had remembered. "It might be late before I call on you, but I expect you to be ready and dressed appropriately." Torrie blushed. She had picked out the outfit that she was going to wear weeks earlier. She was hoping it would please her mistress. She also had a gift picked out. It was something she had made using her knowledge of metalwork. It was simple and a little sappy, but she hoped it would let Isabel know how she felt in ways words could not. For years, Torrie had become increasingly disinterested in things going on around her, but that had changed when Isabel had walked into her store and her life and had taken control. Even when the hollowness that plagued her consciousness threatened to return, thinking about Isabel helped stave it off, at least for a while. She wished she could be there for her mistress the whole day, serving her as Torrie desperately needed . . . wanted to do. But she realized that Isabel would be spending the day with family and friends, and that Torrie didn't belong in that world. And that thought filled her with resentment and jealousy that she couldn't afford to let Isabel know about. They arrived at Isabel's place and waited until no one was around to see them. Then they hurried up to her apartment and hurried inside. Isabel ordered Torrie to wait by the door. Then she wandered into her bedroom and got undressed. She returned and sat down on the couch. "Stand in the middle of the room." As Torrie moved, Isabel used a remote to turn on the stereo. "Now strip! And make it good this time!" Torrie started to swing her hips and run her hands over her body. Isabel had insisted shortly after their relationship began that Torrie need to learn to do striptease performances so she could entertain her mistress. Torrie had gone to several strip clubs during her spare time to study how dancers moved, and she had also started taking a class at a local gym (which Isabel paid for) that actually taught people to dance like strippers as part of a cardiovascular workout. So Isabel had learned. She started by running her hands up her body as she twirled, lifting the fishnet top off over her head, then sucking on one of her fingers seductively. She could barely believe that she was doing this. It was another one of those things she had used to laugh at. Torrie turned away from her mistress and spread her legs wide apart, reaching behind her and unclasping the bra while her moist pussy peaked out from beneath the hem of her skirt. As the bra fell to the ground, she pulled her legs back together and peeled the miniskirt down her legs before kicking it away. She spun back around, wearing nothing but her heels. "You're doing better," Isabel said off handedly. "Now go get the handcuffs off the nightstand." Torrie fetched the item in question, and Isabel secured her submissive's hands behind her. "Now I'm going to watch one of my soaps. Get on your knees, start eating and don't stop until I tell you to. And don't get your head in my way this time!" Torrie knelt before the sofa and placed her face into Isabel's perfect pussy. Her mistress was already fairly wet, so Torrie just went to work. It was hard on her neck to perform this task without having her hands to brace her, but hers was not to question why. Isabel lifted her legs up and placed her feet on the coffee table, watching a soap opera over Torrie's head as the young woman ravaged her pussy. Having that talented tongue buried in her box was one of the highlights of Isabel's day. Torrie's mouth was relentless, sucking on inner labia, outer labia or clitoral hood with incredible fervor. Isabel strained to keep from moaning in ecstasy as Torrie buried her mouth in the great divide and sent her tongue to the bottom of Isabel's crevice. As soon as a commercial came on, she pulled Torrie onto the sofa with the pink-haired girl's ass pointing skyward on Isabel's lap. All throughout the commercial, she spanked Torrie with a series of resounding "thwacks." By the time the first commercial break was over, Torrie's behind almost matched her hair. Then, Isabel ordered Torrie back to her knees to continue her oral attentions until the next commercial break. By the time the show was over, Isabel had been brought to orgasm twice and Torrie's ass was stinging like nobody's business. Isabel stood up to get dressed. "I've got an afternoon class to go to. I expect dinner to be ready when I get back. I think a nice chicken stir-fry would be in order, and I'll use my usual plate. Make yourself useful in the meantime and clean the apartment." Isabel stopped and turned on her video camera, which had a good view of the entire living room, dining room and kitchen. "Just to make sure you stay busy." Without any further adieu, Isabel left the room. Just outside the door, she stopped and gripped the rail for a moment. "God she's getting better at giving head." But Isabel was troubled by something, and she wasn't sure how to address the problem. She had an appointment to see Mr. X that evening at Dark Eden, and hopefully he might have some advice. -------------- ------------- Across town . . . -------------- ------------- Rachel hung up her phone in disgust. She had been trying to get a hold of Torrie for days, but her friend wasn't responding to her calls. Torrie had started acting apathetic again. 'It's kinda weird,' Rachel thought. 'A couple months ago, everything seemed to be goin' better. She was a lot more fun again. Now, it's worse than before.' She was seriously considering going to Torrie's parents and trying to convince them that their daughter needed some serious help, because the girl just wasn't right in the head. And now, she was being evasive about her whereabouts and canceling plans at the last minute. Rachel was convinced that, on top of whatever other problems her friend was having that Torrie was on drugs now too. She didn't want to believe it, since Torrie had always avoided drugs (except cigarettes), but nothing else made sense. Then her phone beeped, indicating that Rachel had a message. She checked it and saw that it was Charlie. She called him back. "Hey, what's up?" "Not much. Listen," he said, clearing his voice on the other end of the line, "I was wondering . . ." "Let me guess, your wife is out of town?" There was a laugh. "Yep. Visiting her sister for a few days. I've got a couple of boys from the site over here . . . the kind of guys you like . . . and we were going to have us a poker game." Rachel was already beginning to water where it counted. Unlike most of the black girls in her neighborhood, Rachel craved white meat. Charlie was a friend of her father's who was packing some serious heat in his pants, and Rachel like to take the heat whenever she got the chance. He was a hard-bodied construction worker who made her knees weak when he fucked her. "What are the stakes?" she asked coyly. "I was kinda hopin' that it would be you." "I'll be there in a minute." Rachel headed out to the living room. She hated being in college while still living at home, but she was saving a butt-load of money and she kind of got off on fucking her dad's friends right under his nose. She borrowed the keys to the car, claiming she was going to visit Frank. That wasn't entirely untrue, and she dialed up her boyfriend on the phone. It was weird, having a boyfriend she couldn't tell anyone about because her brother would freak. And it was even stranger that not only did Frank not mind her fucking other guys, he got off on hearing about it. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 02 "Hey toots," Frank said. "Hey, got an appointment with Charlie and some of his boys," she purred into her cell phone. "You gonna be available later?" She heard a groan on the other end, and she was pretty sure he was stroking his own meat. "How many?" "I dunno. He said they had a poker game and that I'm the stakes. So probably about four. I don't know WHAT I'll do with them all," she said. "Gimme a call when you're done." "You KNOW I will," she said with an absent-headed giggle. He was going to be so randy by the time they got together. She hung up and headed for Charlie's house. It wasn't much, but it was comfy. Before she knocked, she unbuttoned her shirt so her cleavage was exposed. She knocked, and Charlie was at the door in no time. "What took you?" he asked, drawing her in close, sticking his hand in her shirt and grasping one breast. He smelled like had been working hard but hadn't showered. Just the way Rachel liked it. He led her by the hand into the living room. There were three other guys waiting. Not all of them were even close to being as stud-like as Charlie, but none of them were tipping the ugly scale either. "Woh," said one of them. "She is a hot little number." "Look at 'em titties," said another. "Did I promise you guys a game or not? Honey, why don't you show 'em what they're playing for?" Rachel took her time getting undressed, leaving her bra until last. She knew that guys drooled over her tits, and she knew she was probably going to have some man-dressing on them before the night was over. When the bra finally dropped, she got some whistles and catcalls. "Damn! So what's the rules." Charlie leaned in and confirmed some things with Rachel, then looked back at his crew. "Bad news first is that there will be NO booty trips," he said as Rachel covered her ass. A couple of the guys looked noticeably disappointed. She had a very inviting posterior and they had been hoping to violate it. "Good news is besides that, everything goes. Winner of each hand gets her for whatever he wants until someone else wins. When you're spent, you're out. Any questions?" The guys smiled and gathered their cheap folding chairs and positioned them around a coffee table. It was hard for them to concentrate on the first hand, as Rachel was stretching as if she were getting ready for a big race, and she was making quite the show of it. But then a burly guy with a thick vest of chest hair won with a full house. He quickly unzipped himself. "I think I'll feel what the inside of her mouth feels like." Rachel gave her best addle-brained giggle and got on her knees, taking his semi-rigid member into her mouth and began to suck. It smelled of sweat and musk, and it quickly grew in rigidity. It was a little over six inches long, but it was nice and thick and easy to slide all the way into her mouth. "Oh, she's fuckin' sweet! Where'd you find her again, and does she have a sister?" "No personal info," Charlie said. "That's another rule. Now play." The boys took their time playing out the next hand, and Rachel kept her mouth going. The same guy she was blowing won the next hand and he just had her keep doing what she was doing. She used her hand a little so she could concentrate her sucking action on the head, but then she deep-throated him again. Another of Charlie's friends won the next hand, and was looking for some of the same action. He had a seven-incher, but Rachel was able to manage the whole thing. Her head was bobbing rapidly as the boys moved on. This guy held his cards in one hand while pushing her head down with the other. She went all the way down and stayed there and began to hum. "Fuck, she gives good blow." Charlie won the next round. He had her start by blowing him, but quickly had her moved on to some tit-fucking. She placed her generous melons on each side of his shaft and pushed them tightly together, and kept it up for next three hands. He was easily long enough that she could suck on that delicious white mushroom head every time it poked up from her dark cleavage. She bounced her tits up and down as well as letting his mighty white oak slide between them. Rachel knew what the man liked. The fourth man finally won and he had her on all fours in an instant. He buried his eight-inch rod into her waiting pussy and actually played his next hand on her back. She squeezed her cunt muscles as he fucked her, eliciting some happy groaning. "Black pussy is better than I imagined," he said, ramming into her hard. She slammed back into him. His dick was thin but long, so she was going for depth. It was the type of cock she'd rather suck, but it was winner's choice. Unfortunately, he lost the next hand. She wound up going back to Charlie who decided to sample her pussy for a while, and he was on a winning streak. Rachel loved the way his cock filled her up, and she was grunted like an animal as he drilled her. He actually slapped her wobbling ass a few times whenever he thought she was becoming too slow, and she would slam against him even harder. Then she blew the first guy again, fucked him, tit-fucked guy number three and then blew guy number two. It was then that she finally got her first helping of man-candy as guy number two blasted a load in her mouth just as he was playing his cards. She was sucking every last bit of cum from he shaft when she found out Charlie had won. "Well, I guess Stan is done," he said. "Don't swallow darling. Come over here and start on me first." Rachel crawled leisurely over and sank her cum-filled mouth onto that beautiful dick. As Charlie thrust into her mouth, cum erupted out of the corners. He actually got on his knees and started fucking her face as hard as she could take it, with the previous guy's juice erupting all over her face and Charlie's crotch. Finally, he shot his own load into her mouth. And since he won the hand they were on, he told her to keep sucking gently until the remaining two guys played the next hand, and then he told her to drink it all down. With a noisy, messy gulp, she swallowed the remnants of her first two guys' loads. Mr. Eight-Inch won the next round, and he stuck his narrower shaft down Rachel's throat. But he also told her to let his friend fuck her from behind. The two of them kept playing for another few minutes, with the winner always getting "head" while the other got "tail." The second guy was in her mouth when he lost control and filled her tired mouth with a third load of cum, and she swallowed without even waiting for permission. God, she loved drinking cum! There was one guy left. He got her lying on her back with her legs spread. He started by pumping her pussy a few times, then straddled her stomach and fucked those melons again. He spent more time there, and she was licking the head whenever she could reach it. He started to groan, but rather than sticking his cock in her waiting mouth, he jerked it off until it started to spray all over her. Soon, there were pools of semen on her tits, neck and face, and more than a little made it into her mouth. She just lay there for a moment, letting all the guys stare at her cum-coated body. Then she started wiping up the last guys stuff with her fingers and bringing it too her mouth. Guy number three sat back in one of the chairs, grinning. "Hey, my house is free next week if she is!" Charlie was helping Rachel to her feet. "I'll see what I can do," was all he said. Rachel freshened up in the bathroom and hurried out to her car. The driver's-side door wasn't even closed before she had Frank on the phone. She was driving to his place, describing everything those guys had done to her as she went. By the time she got there, Frank was waiting by the curb with his cock straining against his board shorts. Frank was a handsome guy with a Hawaiian heritage, and he was still her favorite fuck. They switched places so he could drive and she could suck him off, taking time to explain in detail what it was like to be the sex toy of four different white guys. They arrived at their hidden spot at the public park. They got out of the car and hurried to a grassy spot. Frank had a bottle of lube in his pocket, which he quickly applied to his cock. He quickly pushed his way into her ass. Frank was the only guy she let fuck her in the ass. His cock felt perfect back there, and it was something special just for him. She started playing with herself as she adjusted to the initial discomfort. Frank's hands were already up under her shirt. She hadn't bothered putting a bra back on since she knew what was coming up, so he had easy access to her breasts. This was his favorite thing, fucking her doggie style while playing with her tits. When her asshole finally relaxed, he was off to the races. She thought he had to be related to a jackrabbit or something because the boy's hips were thumping. Her ass was taking a pounding and she was loving every moment of it. "Hey," she grunted, "they were thinkin' of havin' another game next week. Want me to score you an invite? So you can fuck my little asshole while all these white guys fuck my mouth?" "You saucy little minx," he groaned. He had been playing with himself all afternoon to keep himself hard, and he wasn't going to last long. But he waited until Rachel's finger brought her to an orgasm of her own before he finally let himself go, filling her backdoor with sticky sweetness. He could barely move except for the twitching in his spine and the pulsing of his cock as it emptied its contents into his girlfriend's rectum. She collapsed onto the grass and he collapsed on top of her, and the two just lay there in their coupled state. "You're amazing baby," he said. "I've been hearing that a lot lately," she retorted, smiling contentedly. After a few moments, they started to compose themselves. That was when Frank posed a question. "Is it just me, by the way, or is Torrie going off the deep end again? She flaked on me for lunch yesterday. All I got was, 'Something came up.' It's getting scary." "I've got no idea. I'm . . .I'm gonna go talk to her folks tomorrow. I'd rather have her hate me than know that somethin' was wrong and that I didn't do nothin' about it. I wish I knew what that girl was up to." ------------------ -------------------------- At that moment, across town . . . ------------------ -------------------------- Torrie was lying face first on Isabel's dining room table. Her arms and legs were spread, and silk scarves tied to her wrists and ankles were also secured to the table legs. She had an apple in her mouth, acting much like a ball gag and forcing her to breathe through her nose. The still warm stir-fry chicken that she had made was nestled, along with a generous helping of rice, in the small of Torrie's back. Isabel was happy with the shape of a woman's back. It was a perfect cradle for her meal. Of course, the food had been a tad warm, but the contact it made with Torrie's flesh hadn't been painful. Rather, there was an element of surprise, much like when someone pushes against the small of the back. The only light in the room came from a single candle. Eating by candlelight wasn't particularly novel to her, but the location of the candle was. It was a lovely idea that Isabel used fairly often. She had bought some candles that had a metal lip around the bottom that tapered outward. She heated the long candle until it bent in a semi-circle, then greased the bottom up and pushed the base into Torrie's semi-virgin asshole. As the wax melted, droplets kept falling on the girl's exposed and tender backside, but the metal lip kept anything from falling directly onto the anus. Every drop of hot wax made Torrie's body twitch, and it was a delight for Isabel to see. But she knee she had to finish eating so Torrie could get ready for work and so that Isabel could go to see Mr. X. Isabel finished the last of her supper, the got a towel and wiped Torrie's back off. But she wasn't done. "You did very well today. The apartment is clean and the food was good." She went over to her refrigerator and grabbed a sizeable cucumber out of the vegetable crisper. "I think you deserve a treat. And since I know you're a vegetarian . . ." She pushed the large vegetable slowly into her servant's pussy. The coldness of the item made Torrie shiver, and the size of it made her groan into her apple gag. It was bigger than any of the toys that Isabel usually used on her, and it felt weird. But it also felt wonderful, because she had made her mistress happy. She could actually feel her heart beat, which seemed a rarity to her those days. Isabel began working the vegetable further into Torrie's cunt. When it was all the way in, she let go. Isabel grabbed her digital camera and trained in on the stretched walls of Torrie's vagina and the green invader that was keeping them spread. Torrie took several pictures, and even showed one of them in the viewfinder to Torrie. Then she put the camera down, braced herself on the table and started fucking Torrie with the cucumber. She went hard and fast, and was enthralled by Torrie's muscles straining against her bonds. But she knew Torrie wasn't trying to escape. She wanted more, and Isabel gave it to her. "What a contemptible slut you are," Isabel growled. "You're enjoying having me fuck you with this aren't you?" With one more thrust, Torrie's back arched just a little bit, and the pink-haired girl came onto Isabel's kitchen table. Isabel didn't relent until Torrie's body stopped quivering. Then Isabel turned on the light and blew out the candle. She kissed one of the few spots on Torrie's ass not covered by wax, then ran her finger up the girl's spine until it reached Torrie's shoulders. Isabel spent a few moments massaging those shoulders. She was such a magnificent specimen that Isabel didn't want to let her go. But Torrie had to work. She really hoped her birthday celebration with her socialite "friends" didn't carry on too long, because she had plans for Torrie on that day. She pulled out the cucumber and the candle and untied her . . . lover. "Get cleaned up. I'll give you a lift to work." Torrie started to turn away, but Isabel caught her by the chin and kissed Torrie full on the lips. Torrie blushed, then went into the bathroom to clean up, and Isabel got the girl's work clothes out. As Torrie showered, she started to come down from her sexual high, and she was suddenly and inexplicably afraid. She didn't want to go to work. She didn't want to leave. She wanted Isabel to take her all night long. She wanted to feel like only Isabel seemed to be able to make her feel. But it wasn't her place to ask for such things. She finished getting ready, got dressed, and went to a job that she had grown to despise. -------- -------------------- A little while later . . . -------- -------------------- Isabel sat in the main office of Mr. X, owner and manager of Dark Eden, an exclusive and pricey fetish club on the outskirts of Springfield. She had been waiting while her friend and mentor dealt with some managerial matters. She had come here years earlier, with only a limited amount of sexual experience but armed with the knowledge that she wanted to sexually dominate someone. Mr. X, after verifying her credit card and finding out who her father was, had been very accommodating. Eventually, he had taken her under his wing in many ways. He was far more intense in his own relationships than Isabel was and had several submissives, but he was very tolerant of other peoples approaches to domination and submissive relationships. "Isabel," he said as he walked in the door behind her. Mr. X was a powerful looking man, wide across the chest and with muscular arms. He always wore an immaculate suit when he was at the club, even when he was dealing with his own servants. He never openly shared personal information, but Isabel had gotten the feeling that he was a very intelligent, resourceful and wealthy man. "It's been a while. How is your submissive working out?" "She's wonderful!" Isabel almost gushed, then she blushed a bit. Mr. X smiled. She would never be as hard-nosed a dominatrix as he would like to see, but to each their own. "She's better than I could have imagined!" Mr. X glanced over the young woman. She was still a little uncertain in many ways, including how to wield her power. But he appreciated that she would rather appear naïve and ask for help than actually injure the individual in her care. "So what's troubling you?" " A couple of things. First . . . I know your relationships are entirely . . . about submission. But . . . " Isabel stumbled over her words. He smiled. "You like her, don't you? And you're not sure how to keep her as a friend rather than just a submissive?" She blushed again. "I take it this isn't a new problem?" "Not at all. My best advice is to sit her down and make sure she understands it isn't a regular session and that you want her to be who she is. Make sure to emphasize her name and some of her day-to-day activities to drive home that you want to talk to the person, not the submissive. Let her know how you feel. Some suggestions are to set some guidelines, such as times or places or circumstances under which she doesn't have to obey you. This will give her a sense of structure, keep her with you, and hopefully will achieve what you desire." Isabel was just staring at him. He seemed to her at that moment to be the most brilliant man ever. He smiled at her again. "I've had more experience in this than you could possible hope to imagine." He started to rub his head. "Are you okay?" "Stress is all," he mumbled. He hit a buzzer on his desk, and a woman, who Isabel placed in her late thirties, came in, dressed in a PVC nurse's uniform. "I'm feeling tense," he told her. "Shoulder massage. Now!" The woman moved into motion quickly, and her hands started working over his shoulders. The woman was obviously skilled, as the relief on his face showed. He could see that Isabel still wanted to talk. "Don't worry. She wouldn't dare say anything about what we talk about," he said confidently. She grinned. He had a definite presence about him. "I'm worried about her in another way. She seems . . . increasingly distant. And it is taking more and more for me to achieve the same response. It doesn't seem to me that she's bored or anything, but . . ." She was a bit taken aback by the deep interest in his eyes. ". . . but she's also become increasingly clingy. It's not that I don't like having her around . . . obviously I do, but she seems almost desperate." Mr. X made a motion with his head for his "nurse" to leave. "First," he said, sounding very official, "I need you to understand that this is only my opinion. But I would suggest taking her to see a counselor or a psychiatrist. With the proper background information, they might be able to help figure out if something is wrong, and how she could get help. Has she been acting strangely at home or with her friends?" Isabel blushed, but this time from a darker embarrassment. "I don't know. I've never met her friends or family. They don't know about me . . . or us." Mr. X sighed. "Isabel, you're going to have to tell someone sometime. Not about this lifestyle, mind you, but about your sexuality. Your parents . . . you friends . . . someone. It can be very dangerous for make someone submit to your will if you don't truly understand them, which means understanding their life outside of you. I know you're nervous . . ." "Nervous?" she asked, interrupting him for one of the few times in her life. "If my father finds out, he'll freak. If he freaks, there goes the job I've got waiting and the life I'm leading. I'm left with nothing." Mr. X sat back. "If you truly believe that, then you've sadly underestimated yourself. And if you don't tell them, then you are even more of a slave than this girl you seem so concerned about, because you are refusing to take control of your own destiny." Twenty Years to Life Ch. 02 Isabel fell silent. He was right of course. She knew it. But that knowledge didn't alleviate her fears. "Just think about what I said regarding your . . . friend." Isabel left his office as he was calling the woman in the nurse's outfit back in. She was trying to think of how to go about encouraging Torrie to get help while trying to bury the advice about confronting her parents in the back of mind. --------------- ------------ That Friday . . . --------------- ------------ Torrie had been sitting in her room anxiously. Heaps of dirty laundry were piled up around her, and a number of books were gathering dust on the nightstand. She hadn't been surfing or even been to the beach in months. She hadn't gotten much exercise and she was beginning to feel a little heavier though she couldn't see it. It didn't matter, as long as Isabel was happy. She was wearing her sluttiest outfit, including tight black spandex butt shorts, fishnet stockings, high heels and a tight leather vest, laced up the front with no bra. She had a pair of sweat pants and a tee-shirt to throw on over until she arrived at Isabel's place. And she had her gift, nicely wrapped and sitting in her hands. The cell phone her mistress had given her was sitting on the bed next to her, and it stubbornly refused to ring. So Torrie had sat there all day, barely eating or moving out of fear something might cause her to miss that all important phone call. It was her mistress's birthday, and she had to be ready. Only the thought of Isabel calling kept her from slipping into that all too familiar mental numbness. She had only seen her mistress once more that week, and the feelings that such encounters imbued her with had already dissipated. By the time ten o'clock at night rolled around, Torrie was as close to panicking as she was capable of. "Maybe the phone isn't working," she thought. "Maybe she's waiting for me and there's something wrong with the phone." Torrie couldn't wait any more. She grabbed her gift, exchanged her heels for some more sensible shoes and began the hour-long walk to Isabel's apartment. ------------- --------------------- At Isabel's apartment . . . ------------- --------------------- Isabel Turner was pissed. There were still people at her apartment, despite having partied all day and Isabel's claims that she was tired. Then Isabel told them that she had a headache, but they gave her some medicine but didn't leave, insisting on staying until she felt better. They were being drunk and stupid and maddeningly uncooperative. And she was growing increasingly restless. She hadn't developed the nerve to talk to her parents OR Torrie like she knew she was supposed to, and her lack of activity was weighing heavily on her psyche. Then she heard a knock on the door, and of course none of her acquaintances were paying enough attention to answer it. For Isabel, it was actually a chance to get away from the chaos and try and organize her thoughts. Little did she know that the chaos was just beginning. She opened the door. "Torrie!" she whispered heatedly. Indeed it was Torrie, who had changed into her "slut" ensemble. "What the fuck are you doing here?" She had enough problems as it was. She couldn't afford to have Torrie seen there. Her "high-class friends" would start to ask questions she wasn't ready to answer. Torrie flushed crimson and stared at her feet. She instantly knew that Isabel wasn't pleased. "You said you'd call," she whispered, almost in tears. The tears weren't just coming because Isabel was displeased. Rather, they were coming because Torrie was afraid of being sent away and being alone again. "I thought something might be wrong with the phone. I thought . . . I thought you might be waiting for me . . . that you might want me to be here." Even in her anger, something about Torrie's tone was scaring Isabel. This wasn't the intelligent, smart-assed girl she had first brought into her home. It was a shell of that person, and the shell was crumbling before her eyes. But Isabel was too caught up in protecting her image to deal with it. "You shouldn't have come," she whispered angrily. "You know that you don't come until I call. You . . ." Isabel was interrupted by the sound of one of her guests approaching. It was Robin Tellbrook, as vapid and empty-headed as they came. But her father was a major real-estate baron who had college ties to Isabel's father. "Who's the hooker?" Robin slurred. "This is a birthday party, not a bachelor party," the girl continued, snickering at her own cleverness. When Torrie didn't say anything, Robin turned to Isabel. "What's the stripper here doing here?" she asked. "You know her or somethin'?" Isabel made a decision that it wouldn't take her long to regret. She needed more time. 'Besides,' she thought, 'Torrie brought this on herself.' "No, I don't know her," she said coldly. "She's nobody." Robin turned to join the party and tell the remaining girls about the weirdo that had shown up. As Isabel started to close the door, she saw something that almost tore her heart out. Torrie's face had gone . . . dead. There was nothing there anymore. Behind her eyes wasn't a love of reading or a need to surf the waves or to argue philosophy. That was all gone, and the blackness that replaced it was vast. Torrie dropped something that she had been holding and walked towards the stairs that led down to the parking lot. Isabel quickly grabbed the package and raised her hand as if to signal her lover. She suddenly felt worse about herself than she ever had before. Torrie didn't deserve this. She needed help, and Isabel had effectively slapped her in the face. But she didn't know what to do. 'Some dominatrix I am,' she scoffed internally. For some reason, she opened what was obviously meant to be a present. When she got the paper off and the box open, she found a small silver key. For a moment, she just stared at. Then she noticed the note, and she read the few words that were printed there. "What you hold opens something that has no lock. It is something that belongs to you. All I ask is that you use it well." Isabel's hands were trembling. 'What kind of fucking bitch am I?' she asked of herself. She had to ask herself, because Torrie had disappeared from view. "Torrie?!?" she shouted. For once, she didn't care if someone heard. Then she heard the squealing of tires as someone slammed on their breaks. With her heart sinking in her chest, she ran to the parking lot and then out to the street. Torrie was standing in the middle of the crosswalk, wandering aimlessly across the asphalt. She seemed completely unaware of what was going on around her and was staring off into space. There was an SUV not more than three feet away from her, and traffic was beginning to back up. Some drivers were screaming at her, while another had gotten out of his car to check on her. Isabel rushed out to be at her side. As she arrived, the man was asking her is she was okay. When he got no response, he asked for her name. She looked at him . . . or through him . . . and whispered something. "I'm nobody." ------------- -------------- An hour later . . . ------------- -------------- Rachel and Jeremy were the last to arrive at the hospital. They had been at a family dinner and had their cell phones off. When Rachel had turned hers back on, she had a message from Frank. He had just heard from Torrie's parents. Apparently, she had tried to kill herself. After some difficulty, they were able to find Torrie's parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Jones! What happened?!?" Rachel could scarcely believe that Torrie would try something like suicide. Frank was there also, looking worried. He and his girlfriend exchanged a quick glance, and Rachel knew she would probably need his shoulder at some point. "I don't know," Torrie's mother said, forcing words through her fear. "We got a call saying she had walked into traffic and was just waiting to get hit. She isn't being allowed visitors right now. They've got her tied to the bed and they won't let me see my baby!" Rachel looked over to the door that Mrs. Jones was pointed towards. There was a girl there that seemed somehow familiar, like maybe they had gone to school together once upon a time, sitting on a small chair. She was a very pretty girl, and she had apparently been doing a great deal of crying. Mrs. Jones was struggling to regain her composure. "That young woman came with her in the ambulance. I . . . I haven't had a chance to talk to her. Maybe she knows what's going on." Just then, a doctor wandered up. "Mr. and Mrs. Jones?" "Yes," Torrie's father said, his face grim. "Hi, I'm Doctor Davis. I'm very sorry to keep you waiting this long." Mrs. Jones started to say something, but the doctor held up his hand. "Physically, we haven't found anything wrong with her, but there are still some tests we need to run. We've been waiting for our on-call psychiatrist to arrive. He said he wanted to talk to her before she had visitors, so he could better assess her mental state. He should be here in a few minutes, then you'll be allowed in. He asked that I get some preliminary information from you all first. Was anyone with her when this happened?" They all looked around except for Mrs. Turner, who looked straight at the stranger by the door. Isabel lifted her head. "I was there," she whispered. "Do you know the patient?" Isabel hated that word . . . patient. "Yes." "What was your relationship with her?" Isabel almost choked on the words. "We . . . we were involved. Romantically," she said. "Bullshit," Rachel said. "If she were dating someone, she would have told me!" "I asked her not to tell anyone," Isabel said, feeling very ashamed of herself. "I never really came out to anyone, and I wasn't sure I could handle people knowing. So I asked her not to say anything." 'There,' she thought. 'That was at least partially true.' Rachel was still suspicious, but she let it drop. A secret affair WOULD explain some of her friend's strange behavior as of late. Isabel started talking again. "She . . . I noticed that she was acting strangely. I meant to get her to get help, but I didn't know how . . ." "It's okay," the doctor said. "It's a difficult thing to do. First you have to convince them that they need help, and that can be tricky." "I should have tried harder," Isabel said as she started to cry again. "I should have done something." However Rachel may have felt before, she was faced with the fact that this familiar-looking girl was genuinely distraught. The doctor started asking them all about Torrie's behavior, all the way back to her change in attitude after high school. As he was talking with them, the psychiatrist showed up, and Isabel's eyes opened as wide as saucers. She knew that man. She knew his face . . . his arms . . . his eyes . . . his very presence. It was Mr. X! He raised his finger to his lips and went "Shh" very quietly. "Dr. Smythe," said Dr. Davis, "I have some of those notes you asked for, but these young people weren't quite done . . ." "Thanks Joe," said "Dr. Smythe." He took the other man's notes and glanced over them, then picked up where his colleague had left off. He noticed that Isabel was still staring at him, but he didn't have time to deal with her. He finished talking with Torrie's parents, as well as with Frank, Rachel and Jeremy. Finally, he had a sidebar with Dr. Davis, then went in to check on Torrie. He was gone for quite a while. Isabel was trying to shrink into her chair. All of Torrie's friends were staring at her, their mistrust evident for the world to see. Mrs. Jones tried to make small talk, but she was obviously distressed about not being able to see her daughter. She was debating calling Torrie's older siblings when the doctor came out and let them in to see her. Isabel wanted to go in there so badly, but she felt very much out of place. Finally, Dr. Smythe took a seat beside her. "On pain of death," he said with a slight smile, "you tell no one about this!" "You're a psychiatrist too?!?" "Yep. What, can't I have a life outside the club? I told you to take her to see someone," he said. He meant to say it as a tension reliever, but she started to cry again. He sat down and put an arm on her shoulders. He was actually quite capable of kindness when the situation warranted it. "You couldn't have known this would happen," he said gently. "I can't tell you the details without her permission, but this may have been something far beyond your ability to help her." He gave her a brief hug. "If you want, pop your head in there. Let her know how you feel, then go home and get some rest." He stood up and then went inside. Isabel stood up and gingerly poked her head in the window. Torrie could have easily mistaken for a zombie, as pale as she was. Her eyes looked confused, as if she didn't understand why all those people were surrounding her. Then she saw Isabel standing in the doorway, and her face regained some color for just a moment. Then the color started to fade. Isabel reached into her purse and pulled out the key that Torrie had given her. Torrie looked quizzical. Isabel held the key to her lips and kissed it. Then she held it to her heart. And for just a moment, she swore she saw some hope sparkling behind those dark eyes. Jeremy and Rachel both noticed that quiet little conversation. Rachel held her friend's hand, but Jeremy got up to follow Isabel as the other girl left. "Who are you?" he asked when he caught up with her. Isabel looked him dead in the face. "My name is Isabel Turner, and I'm a lesbian." Jeremy just stood there with his mouth hanging open as Isabel walked into the elevator. "What the hell was that about?" Isabel got to her car and headed out. But she didn't go home. Instead, she headed towards her parents' house. It was time for her to do something she felt she should have done years earlier. ------------ ----------- A week later . . . ------------ ----------- For Torrie Jones's friends and family, the first several days of her hospitalization were very uneasy. Dr. Smythe had put on some form of medicine, but he himself had been unavailable for almost a whole week. They were beginning to seriously question the man's competency or dedication, but they were later informed that he was on-call for a number of hospitals and had been running himself ragged. It was Jeremy who first noticed an improvement in Torrie's condition. When she had been first been brought in, she had been secured to the bed and put on suicide watch by hospital staff. Dr. Smythe had contacted the administration and informed them she wasn't a threat to herself, so the standards were relaxed. Jeremy was in there with her and they were actually making small talk, something she hadn't shown much interest in doing before. "C'mon," she almost whined, "I just want to go outside for a smoke." Jeremy rolled his eyes. "For the last time, no. The doctor said no smoking. Something about how nicotine would interact with your medication." Torrie wasn't going to push the issue too much. She hadn't smoked very much in the last several months anyway. Isabel hadn't approved. She sighed. She was beginning to feel things that she didn't remember feeling for a while. She felt mildly betrayed by Isabel, but she couldn't really bring herself to be too angry. She had known the rules and had broken one. Breaking the rules had meant punishment was in order. She wasn't sure how she was going to handle that aspect of her life, assuming Isabel was even still interested, but she seriously doubted she would be getting an opportunity for much play any time in the near future. "Listen, can you at least go grab me a latte or something? Don't they have a Starbucks in the fuckin' lobby or something?" Jeremy smiled as Torrie began a tired rant about the state of hospital accommodations. He was happy to hear her bitching. This sounded more like the Torrie he had known in high school. It sounded more like THAT Torrie than the girl he had quietly coveted for many years. "And there isn't anything worth reading around here," Torrie was grumbling. "That I might be able to do something about," came a voice from the doorway. Torrie glanced over and almost instinctively blushed. "Hey," she said as Isabel walked in. She couldn't help but notice that Isabel looked just as physically drained as Torrie herself felt. "Jeremy," she said, "I would really appreciate a coffee or something. Now." "Are you trying to get rid of me?" he said with a perfectly straight face. "Don't make me get out of this bed . . ." "I'm a goin', I'm a goin'." Jeremy squeezed her hand. "Just remember that the doc is comin' by in a bit, and your folks will be here too." Then he wandered off to the cafeteria. Isabel pulled a book out of her purse. It was a set of short stories by H. P. Lovecraft. "I thought you might need some light reading." Torrie snickered and Isabel almost glowed at the sound. She really was beginning to look a lot better. Isabel took a chair right next to the young woman. Torrie looked at her . . . friend? Lover? Mistress? She didn't know what to call her all of a sudden. But she DID know that Isabel wasn't looking healthy. "Listen," she started, "I . . . I'm not mad at you . . . for what happened." It was Isabel's turn to take the girl's hand. "I am." It was the first time the two of them had been alone all week, and there were some things Isabel had to tell her. "I should've known . . . I should've gotten you help. Regardless of what we do, I've got no right to pretend you don't exist. Particularly since you're the only person who actually understands me. And I was just so fuckin' selfish . . ." She stopped when she felt Torrie squeezing her hand back. She raised Isabel's hands to her lips and kissed it. "I told them," she uttered, so quietly that Torrie barely heard her. "I told my parents." Even in her slightly lethargic state, Torrie heard the bells and whistles going off in her head. "Why? You didn't have to . . . not because of me." "Yeah, I kinda did. Because of you and because of me. I didn't . . . I wasn't sure you'd want to have anything to do with me after what I did and after what I said. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't." "Isabel . . ." Torrie started. "Let me finish," the other girl said. "You've . . . come to mean a lot to me. There was some stuff I wanted to talk to you about, but this isn't the time or the place. But I just got tired of hiding it. A wise man recently told me that at some point I was going to have to take control of my own life. And after that day . . ." She paused, not wanting to bring up those painful memories, "I realized he was right. Sometimes I wonder if the reason I've wanted to be . . . so controlling in regards to . . . well, you know . . . is because I'd never had any control over my own life. I've been educated and groomed to take my 'place' in my father's businesses since I was a kid. Someday, I was supposed to take over." "What do you mean, 'was'? What . . ." "My father and I aren't . . . speaking to each other right now," Isabel said. "The night after you were brought here . . . was when I told him. I was pretty emotional I guess, but I remember a lot of yelling and cussing." She shook her head. "Dad at one point actually FORBID me from being gay. I couldn't believe the nerve . . ." Isabel stopped and wiped her eyes, then looked around for something. "Tissues are on the dresser," Torrie said quietly, her eyes wide open. She could scarcely believe what Isabel had been going through. "Anyway," the other girl said after blowing her nose, "he pretty much threatened to disown me. Said he wasn't paying for anything anymore. My mom was trying to play peacemaker, but . . . I don't think she was all that successful." Twenty Years to Life Ch. 02 "God, I'm sorry," Torrie said. "Don't be. I should've done this a long time ago. I mean, I've got enough money in the trust fund my grandmother left me to get me through for a while. The rent on the apartment is paid for the next six months, so I'm not going to be homeless any time soon. But I guess since I'm graduating in a couple of weeks, I had better start looking for a job of my own. And you know something . . . I'm kind of excited. For the first time, it's MY life." "Congratulations. On graduating," Torrie said. "And on having your own life and all." "I was kind of hoping you'd be there for commencement, but I guess that's up to the doctor." "I'd love to," Torrie said. "Be there . . . for . . . commencement." Isabel smiled. She leaned in, almost afraid that Torrie would move away. But the pink-haired girl stayed right where she was, her lips quivering with anticipation. And when Isabel finally kissed her, she almost melted. It was the most perfect kiss ever. "Ahem," came a voice from the doorway. Isabel was blushing furiously when she turned her head and noticed Mr. X . . . Dr. Smythe standing in the doorway. "If you two are QUITE finished," he said, "Ms. Jones's parents are waiting in one of the offices. Ms. Turner, if you'd like, you could escort our young . . . friend . . . to room 412." Both girls started to giggle as Dr. Smythe left, but it didn't stop Isabel from kissing her . . . friend . . . again. "So, are we going to be okay?" she asked. Torrie smiled. "I think so," Torrie replied. "Then would it be inappropriate to say that seeing you tied to a hospital bed was kind of a turn on?" Torrie almost choked on her laugh. She took Isabel's hand, just as Jeremy returned with her coffee. "Sorry I'm late. Long line. Did I miss anything?" --------- ------------------------ A little while later . . . --------- ------------------------ It had been a fairly informative meeting with Dr. Smythe. Torrie's parents and friends were all allowed to stay. The doctor explained that Torrie was suffering from a fairly uncommon form of clinical depression. He explained the depression didn't just mean "sad" as most people assumed, though many of the visible symptoms were the same. In Torrie's case, her body tended to exist at a perpetually low level of physiological arousal. He explained that it was almost the opposite of an adrenaline high which people got when they were really excited or had been physically exerting themselves. Unfortunately, people suffering from this type of depression generally didn't know they had it and really couldn't figure out what, if anything, was wrong. They simply showed less interest in day to day things that they normally would have enjoyed. There was a reduced sense of purpose and very little personal drive. People had two general reactions to this condition. They either exhibited sociopathic behavior in attempt to get their adrenaline levels up and feel vaguely normal, or they collapsed in upon themselves. That was what had happened to Torrie. Torrie realized that the only thing that had kept her from going off the deep end months ago was the excitement of being with Isabel, and that one moment of rejection had added a psychological component to her problem. She simple didn't want to feel anything anymore, so there was no reason to resist the blackness. Dr. Smythe surmised that Torrie's affliction had probably begun shortly after high school. What had started as a genuine desire to just take some time off had unfortunately masked the onset of the condition. Apparently, Torrie hadn't been suicidal that day she walked into traffic. She had simply stopped caring. The medication he had prescribed her prevented the reuptake of certain neurotransmitters and helped stabilize some chemicals in her brain. And the best thing for her would be to become active again. Exercise would help her body, to some degree, deal with the problem naturally. And if she led an active, healthy lifestyle like she had before and if her friends and family helped her stick with it, she would be able to reduce the amount of medication, though never quite getting off of it. Torrie should be able to live a perfectly normal, happy life. But her friends and family would HAVE to keep an eye on her. People with Torrie's type of depression often stopped doing the things that helped them just because they didn't necessarily realize anything was wrong until they were too far gone to do anything about it or they thought that they had everything under control. He made sure to point out that Torrie would need to lead a somewhat "disciplined" life after that. Isabel had tried very hard not to smile. But Dr. Smythe didn't see any reason why Torrie couldn't go home that very day. He made sure she understood what she was supposed to do, wrote her a prescription for the medication and made an appointment to see Torrie again. He gave Isabel a quick wink, then Torrie's parents drove her home. --------------- ------------------ A few weeks later . . . --------------- ------------------ Torrie was deciding that she liked Dr. Smythe's form of "therapy." She had lost her job at the gas station, but her parents insisted she take some time and have some fun before looking for a new one. They obviously felt guilty about not catching on earlier that something was amiss, but she kept telling them that there was no way they could have known. She had actually spent the first day at home getting her room cleaned up. Torrie had no idea how she could have let it get that bad. In the days that followed, her parents forced her to call her friends, grab her longboard and head out to the beach. So she found herself lying in the sun, Isabel rubbing lotion into her skin while hanging out with her friends. She hadn't realized how much she missed it. The surfing, the sun, the sand . . . and the friendship. Torrie also realized that while Frank and Jeremy had pretty much accepted that Torrie and Isabel were still together, Rachel didn't trust the girl. At some point, Frank and Jeremy headed out to the waves, so Torrie asked Isabel if she wouldn't mind grabbing her a diet-soda from one of the venders. She kissed the girl, then watched her walk across the sand. 'Damn, she looks good in a bikini,' Torrie thought, her mouth watering. Yep, she was turning back into her old self again. She wondered how long it would be until they had "the talk." She knew Isabel was probably very nervous about returning to the physical part of their relationship. Even Torrie was a little concerned about what was going to happen. But she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Then Torrie turned to Rachel. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?" Rachel was lying next to her, looking quite delicious in her own bikini. She rolled onto her side. "Yes bitch!" she said, actually cracking a bit of a smile, "you're supposed to tell me everything! How could you be dating some rich chick like her and not tell me?!?" As upset as Rachel was that her best friend had been hiding something, she was happy to see the change in Torrie's attitude. "Hey, you never told me about you and Frank," Torrie replied, grinning a bit evilly. "What?!?" Rachel exclaimed. "I don't know what you're . . . I mean, what makes you think . . ." "Rachel, I've apparently been depressed, not stupid. I mean, do I look like your brother? I actually have had SOME clue as to what was going on." "Jeremy doesn't know, does he?" Rachel asked, momentarily distracted. "No. Frank's still alive, so I'm assuming Jeremy hasn't figured it out yet. And no, I'm not going to tell him. I understand that sometimes, you have to keep secrets." "That was sneaky of you." "I'm like that. Listen, Isabel and I kept it secret because she never outed herself. There's a lot of family stuff on her side that I can't really explain, but I accepted those reasons. And I really want the two of you to get along. So give her a chance, okay? I mean, her dad is still pissed at her and the rest of her friends have abandoned her. The only one still talking to her besides me is her mom, and her mom is still freaking out. It has to mean something that she's the only thing that was able to get through to me in a long time and make me feel normal." "Okay, okay. I'll play nice. At least you picked someone cute. You KNOW what Jeremy's going to be thinking about though." "What?" asked Isabel, who had just wandered up. "Just so ya know," Rachel said, "my brother has a thing for Torrie here." "Does he know she's gay?" "Yeah, that's part of the attraction I think." "Ah," said Isabel. "One of those." "Yep, one of those. Periodically, I let him use my place for sex, and that shithead keeps stealing my underwear. As long as he leaves me alone . . ." Out in the waves, Jeremy was figuring out how he was going to work off some energy. Seeing Torrie alive again was cool, but seeing her getting suntan lotion rubbed in by a hot babe in a bikini was almost more than his brain could stand. He'd been flirting with a number of girls, and his best looking prospect was a tight little oriental chick in a string bikini. He put the flirting into high gear, hoping to insure his evening score as quickly as possible. A few smiles, a few jokes and the promise of a few drinks, and he was set. ---------------- ------- That evening . . . ---------------- ------- 'I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?' Jeremy thought to himself. He had been driving his hot oriental chick home from the bar when she decided she wanted to try fellatio in a moving vehicle. She had his dick out of his pants by the time they were out of the parking lot. "It's so fuckin' big," the girl said. "It's all yours sweetie," Jeremy said. The girl, whose name was Adrienne, quickly proved herself to have some skills. Even in her slightly drunken state, she was approaching his cock like a science experiment, trying to measure things out in her head before she stuck it in her throat. As he got his car up to speed, she took the head of his massive pole in her mouth and blew a warm puff of air down the shaft. She wrapped both hands around the base so she could stroke it while she worked the head between her lips and flicked it with her tongue. Her head began bouncing like a pogo stick, taking about half of his rod into its depths on every pass. He grabbed the back of her head and helped push it down a little, forcing more of his beef into her sweet face. Jeremy was beginning to wonder if he would last until he got back to Adrienne's apartment. The girl gave good head. He felt her tongue dragging along the sensitive undercarriage of his penis as her head bobbed up and down. "Fuck baby, you better slow down. You're too good at that." After another long, slow descent, she let his dick out of her mouth. "Don't worry. I can get ANYTHING hard again. I want ride this thing all night long." Trusting her to make good on her promise, he just let her get back to her thing. Just as he was pulling into the parking lot for Adrienne's apartment complex, she managed to fit almost the whole thing into her throat, and he starting spurting his seed. Wave after wave course through his cock, and he held Adrienne's head in place as she tired vainly to swallow it all. He heard some mild coughing noises and quickly released his grip on her head. "Where do you store it all?" Adrienne asked. "I've never known one guy . . ." "Baby, I've got an endless supply of the stuff. Good for whatever ails ya." "We'll see about that," she said with a grin, reinserting his still-sticky penis back into his pants and slowly zipping him up. She led him up to the apartment, and instantly found herself wrapped up in his arms from behind. "Let it never be said that I didn't know how to treat a lady," he said, using his sexiest Barry White voice. He was impressed by the girl's body as he felt her muscles underneath his hands. It was the type of body that had made him so enamored with Torrie. 'Okay, stop that right now,' he thought. 'Let's have fun with this girl and not think about the one you can't have.' He had gotten her shirt and bra off and was feeling her small tits. She was grinding her mini-skirt-clad butt against his jeans, trying to stir his semi-rigid member back to life. He put one hand on her back and pushed her forward until she was bent in half, her black thong now clearly visible as her skirt rode up her ass. Jeremy got down on his knees and kissed her panties, dragging his tongue across the moist fabric and causing her to "ooh" with delight. He reached under the skirt and grabbed the sides of her underwear, dragging them down to her ankles. "Sweet and juicy," he said. "Just how I like 'em." He began licking the bottom-most portion of her slot while inserting three fingers from one hand into the box. He spread his fingers out as wide as they could go, then he pushed them together again and forced them as deep as he could into her paradise. He teased the sensitive area between her asshole and her pussy with his tongue. She slapped his other hand away as he started tracing a finger around her sphincter. 'Okay, no trips down that road with this girl. Oh well, there's still fun to be had.' Jeremy actually enjoyed eating pussy, just for the way it made the girl's body squirm. He thrust his tongue a little deeper into her box while he thumbed her clit. Then he pulled his tongue back out and went back to some hardcore penetration with his fingers. He was sinking in three fingers all the way to the knuckled when she began to squire, her juices flying everywhere due to the rapid motion of his hand. "Oh God, oh God, oh God!" she said, over and over again. Since she was bent in half, she poked her head between her own calves until she had his member directly in her sights, taking it into her mouth and sucking gently, coaxing it back to life. Jeremy appreciated her efforts, and rewarded her by continuing his oral attack. This time he used only his tongue and lips, playing relentlessly with her slick, fleshy bits. By the time Adrienne had his cock at full mast in her mouth again, he had brought her to a second orgasm. "I think you should be nice and ready now," he said, staring at her cum-covered cunt. He stood up and without any further fanfare inserted his thick shaft into her pussy. "It's so fucking big," she said, hooking her legs around him and digging her heels into his ass. 'I should get that printed on a tee-shirt,' he thought as he filled her box. She was tighter than any girl he'd been with recently, so he took his time. Having already cum once, he knew he could enjoy the ride the second time. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to a standing position and then, while still standing behind her, lifted her off her feet and began to hammer into her. She curled her legs back so that the fronts of her feet were resting on his calves, then just let him pound away at her as if she were just his fuck-doll. He put her down and pulled out of her, letting her swing around and face him. Then he picked her up with his powerful arms and, as she directed the head of his penis into place, slid her back down onto it. She wrapped her legs around him as he continued to fuck her like it was going out of style; hard and fast. She was issuing a series of guttural grunts as his cock stretched her opening and his balls slapped against her ass. After a bit, he started to tire and let her butt rest on the back of the sofa. She leaned back until her shoulders were resting on the cushions and he was fucking downwards into her. She lifted her legs until they were parallel with his chest, and he grabbed them so he could use them for leverage. It didn't take long before he had her cumming for the third time. Her box was tight enough during normal intercourse. When in the midst of climax, even the mighty Jeremy had to stop his thrusting out of fear of having his prize possession ripped off. He was looking down at her body, paying special attention to her clearly defined abdominal muscles straining under her skin. They looked like Torrie's abs did, in a way he wished he could see them. That thought was enough to top him off. With her vaginal opening clamping down, his dick pulsed and sent a stream of goo down inside her. "You were just too much for me baby," he crooned as he filled her up. He pulled out and slapped the kitty a couple times with his softening member. "You're everything I thought you'd be," Adrienne replied. "I'd LOVE to have another go at that monster in your trousers." "Gimme your number and I'll call you," he said. He knew he wouldn't call her, nor would she actually expect him to. It was just another step in the one-night-stand-tango that people like them danced. ------------- ------------ Across town . . . ------------- ------------ Torrie was sitting on her couch with her completed applications to the community college's welding program spread out on the coffee table. She was trying to catch up on all the reading she had missed in the prior months. She had finished the book Isabel gave her, then had picked up some more work of Lovecraft's at a used book store and was halfway through one of them when she heard a knock on the outside door. She got up, wondering who would be dropping by this late. It was Isabel. "Can I come in?" the dark-haired beauty asked. "Sure . . . absolutely . . . you don't even need to ask," Torrie said nervously. This was the first time Isabel had ever actually been inside that room and Torrie suddenly wished she had spent more time tidying up. She actually began to pick things up when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. I just wanted . . . wanted to talk to you. Is this a good time? I could come back . . ." "No! I mean yes you can come back, but now is fine too." She offered Isabel a seat and a soda, which the other woman accepted and declined, respectively. Isabel sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something. It's been running through my mind since before . . . that night." "Listen . . ." "No, let me finish. I'm sorry I said those things to you. As I said, you're the only one who gets it . . . who understands me. And I don't want to give up what we had. I don't think I could." She grabbed Torrie by the hand and tugged on it, motioned her friend to sit next to her. "But I realized that there was something else I wanted. Remember how we used to talk? When I dropped by the store all the time? I missed that. I've really enjoyed being with you . . . and by 'you,' I mean Torrie Jones, not just my sexual slave. Your quirks, your mind, your almost unnatural knowledge of literature . . ." She stroked the top of Torrie's hand with her thumb as the girl snickered and blushed a bit. "Even before that night, I realized I missed all this stuff about you." "But I like what we had. I . . . don't think I could have a . . . normal relationship! I knew what I wanted years before I even met you!" "I know how you feel. I went and talked to . . . to a friend, and he made me realize something. I may not be able to be the type of mistress you want me to be. Because there are going to be times I don't want to control you. There are going to be times when I just want a girlfriend." "Can I be both?" Torrie asked, obviously confused. "How . . ." Isabel silenced her girlfriend with a kiss. "We need to set some rules," she said. "In this room or when your parents are around, you're your own master. And I was thinking we could pick one day each week were we could go do . . . you know, couple stuff. And sometimes, I may just need your advice, but we could do that on a per-case situation. And . . . I want you to spend some more time with your friends and doing stuff you like to do. Otherwise, it's business as usual. I'm not sure how it will work, or IF it will work, but I'd like to try. Are you okay with that?" Twenty Years to Life Ch. 02 Torrie was staring at her feet. But when she looked up, she was grinning. "So, the spanking isn't over?" Isabel gave a throaty laugh. "Not on your life. Your ass is perfect when it's been slapped raw." She looked over at the coffee table. "So, did you decide on getting your welding certification or are you going for an English degree?" "Welding. I don't need a degree to read good books or talk about them. Besides, the job possibilities are better with welding and I really need to move out of here. I love my parents, but they've almost been smothering me the last couple weeks, as if anything that happened to me was their fault. Christ, even I didn't notice what was wrong." "They care. Just like I do and just like your friends do. Maybe the reason things got so bad is that all the people that care about you weren't talking to each other. I've got a feeling that isn't going to be happening anymore." "I know. And speaking of painful subjects, how are things with your folks?" Isabel shrugged. "Not much change. I got a call from my older brother. He just found out, and he's freaked out too. Thinks me being gay might say something about him. Moron." "I had to talk by brother and sister out of coming down here. The last thing I needed was to have MORE people obsessing over me." "I think I like your family more. Mom has started with the Valium again, and apparently Dad is so mad that the vein in the front of his head is threatening to explode. He's called in his lawyer a bunch of times to have me removed from his will, but Mom said he gets so furious that he yells at the lawyer until he goes away. My family is insane. But I may have a job lined up. I got called in for a second interview for the Lakewood Mall manager's slot. It's not quite as glamorous as I was hoping for, but it'll pay the bills. Whether or not the family is behind me anymore doesn't mean that the family name doesn't carry some weight." Isabel had given up a good six-figure salary and a chance of being part of her father's retail empire by admitting her sexuality. Part of that had been for Torrie. But Torrie was happy that her mistress had rebounded all on her own. "You're barely twenty-three years old and you'll be running your own mall. My last job involved the direct use of a toilet plunger." Torrie flopped back onto the bed, covering her eyes. Isabel stroked her friend's face. She knew that since Torrie's drive and sense of purpose had started returning weeks earlier, so had her sense of disappointment. All her friends were graduating within the next year and some would soon be leaving, and she was right where she had been four years earlier. "It'll be okay. You can do anything you set your mind to. You just haven't been able to set your mind to anything as of late." Torrie smiled. "That's not entirely true." "You've got a point. You've been a very good girl for me." Torrie rolled a thought through her head. "So you can't control me while I'm here?" "Nope," Isabel said a bit wistfully. Sitting so close to Torrie and not being able to spank her or do all the things she wanted to was maddening. "What if I ASKED you to do something?" Isabel smiled. She had been afraid that when Torrie's physiological state returned to normal that she might not need their "games" to feel special anymore. Apparently, she was wrong. "As long as you asked nicely," she murmured through half-open eyelids. Torrie got up and locked the door that led downstairs to the main house. Then she went over and got something out of her closet, but held it behind her back. Then she sat down on the bed and handed Isabel a pair of leather cuffs attached by a two-foot length of chain. "I need my fix, and I figured we might get to use these at some point . . ." "Where did you get them?" "I made them. I've had a lot of spare time on my hands recently, so I did some research on-line." "You made them?" Isabel chuckled. Her 'submissive' was building her own restraints. "Yeah. I mean, I know a little about welding and leatherwork already, so . . ." She was cut off as Isabel pressed her lips against Torrie's. Torrie lay back, stretching her hands lazily over her head. Isabel attached one of the cuffs to Torrie's wrist, then looped the other end around one of the bedposts before attaching the other cuff to the other wrist. "Well, now what should I do with you?" She straddled Torrie's waist, unbuttoning her captive's shirt. When those small, firm breasts came into view, she leaned over and sucked on Torrie's nipples, taking each nub in her mouth before biting down lightly. That got Torrie gasping, and there was a definite smile of pleasure on her face. After a few more nibbles, Isabel sat up and grasped those nubs between her thumbs and forefingers, tugging on them none too softly. Then she released them and started to remove her own shirt and bra. She leaned back over and offered one of her own breasts to Torrie, who devoured her girlfriend's softer nipples with great avarice. Torrie whined a little bit when Isabel pulled away. "You know, there's something I've been wanting to do to you for a while, but I couldn't quite figure a way of working into the relationship," Isabel said. She pulled Torrie's pants and panties off, leaving the girl naked and helpless before her. She stood next to the bed, slowly removing her own remaining clothing as Torrie watched hungrily. Then she knelt on the bed between Torrie's legs and kissed the captive woman softly on the swollen labia. She was getting ready to do something as Torrie's girlfriend that she had difficulty doing as her dominatrix. She took a slow, leisurely lick right up the girl's moistening snatch. "I'm going to make you cum so many times it'll make your head spin," she said, meaning every word. She stuck her thumbs into the girl's box, pulling the lips outward so her tongue could delve deeper. It had been a while since she had gone down on anyone for any length of time, but she was pretty sure she still remembered how. And from the way Torrie's body was beginning to gyrate, she was pretty sure she was doing a good job. "You are a sweet tasting chick," Isabel said before nibbling on those inner labia, sending pleasant little jolts through Torrie's body. Then she sucked on one of her own fingers before shoving it into Torrie's asshole. She had so many things she wanted to do to that orifice, but she would wait to field some of those ideas with Torrie later. The girl was definitely responding positively to having it penetrated, so she pushed in another finger. But she kept on licking and sucking all the important parts. Then she sent her tongue on a viscous attack against Torrie's clitoris. She was thrusting hard with the fingers in the girl's ass as well. It wasn't much longer before she felt the first warm seepage of Torrie's cum trickling onto her tongue. She thrust some fingers from her free hand into Torrie's cunt, then placed them near the girl's mouth so she could suck them clean. Then she ate Torrie to another orgasm. Her neck was getting a little tired, so she sat up and spread her girlfriend's legs wide. With three fingers in Torrie's ass, she inserted three from her other hand into Torrie's dripping sex. She began moving them like pistons, one going in while the other went out. She stretched her fingers as much as she could when they were buried deep. Torrie was strained to get more of those delightful digits inside her. She had been hoping for something a little rougher, but this light bondage had its merits. She also had to admit that she wasn't at all unpleased with her and Isabel's new arrangement. Torrie was getting the chance to be slave, sex-toy and girlfriend to a beautiful woman. There were worse situations to be in. Isabel was sinking her hands in as far as they could go, wondering how far Torrie might be able to go somewhere down the road. She wondered if Torrie could accommodate Isabel's entire fist. Someday, she would have to find out, but that would have to come later. As it was, she was stretching both of her lover's holes quite nicely. "I . . . uh . . . I wanna make you cum too," Torrie gasped. The desire to serve Isabel was still strong in her heart. "You will. But for now . . ." Isabel started, then one finger brushed against Torrie's g-spot, causing the girl's body to jump. Her captor smiled and hit that spot again, as well as rubbing her thumb lightly over Torrie's clitoral hood. After a few moments, she had started a chain reaction through the girl's body. Torrie's body hit a sexual high and stayed there longer than it ever had before. Even as the first set of sexual aftershocks rocked her body, there was another building of pressure deep within her. Within seconds, another orgasm ripped through her. Isabel had heard of multiple orgasms before, but she had never experienced nor seen one before. She licked her lips at the possibilities that lay ahead of her. She even was able to induce a third successive orgasm before allowing Torrie to rest. Torrie's energy was already spent, and they hadn't even been at it that long. But she still hadn't provided pleasure to Isabel in the way she wanted, and she wouldn't feel right if she couldn't return at least some of the wonderful sensations that Isabel had just bestowed on her. So it was with great delight that she noticed Isabel moving forward to straddle her face. Her girlfriend made sure not to crush Torrie's arms, which were growing incredibly sore as they were locked over her head. In order to get over the discomfort, Torrie began to eat Isabel's pussy. Isabel had missed having that talented tongue in her cunt. She ground her crotch against Torrie's face as the girl moved her tongue into the slot. She had no intention or interest in having more than one orgasm that evening. She had wanted to make Torrie feel special, more so than achieving release herself. But it had turned out that the pink-haired girl was a little more addicted to being a submissive than Isabel had thought. She felt that tongue dancing around her asshole, and she couldn't help but moan. Torrie knew what she liked. "You are such a nasty girl," she crooned as she rode Torrie's face. Soon, the lapping increased in tempo, and Isabel bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming as she began cumming on Torrie's face. She heard slurping noises as Torrie tried drinking as much of the stuff as she could. When her body was back under her control, she reached up and unfastened the cuffs from Torrie's wrists. As Torrie stretched her arms, she got a pensive look on her face. "Isabel?" "Yes." "Would you . . . stay with me tonight?" "Of course! Why wouldn't I want that?" Torrie struggled to her feet, and Isabel had to help her to the bathroom to get cleaned up. "It's just . . . we haven't slept together . . . and I mean SLEPT together . . . since that first time you took me home." "That was when I was afraid of people finding out. I'm not afraid anymore. So be expecting to stay over a lot more." Isabel helped clean Torrie up, wiping her drippings from her inner thighs. Then she grabbed both sides of Torrie's face. "But that also means we can progress certain aspects of our relationship. Tell me truthfully," Isabel asked, her voice deadly serious, "how far are you willing to go?" Torrie looked at her, then turned and put her hands on the sink while spreading her legs and thrusting her butt out, looking at Isabel expectantly. Isabel smiled and laid a hard smack on that wonderful ass. Then Torrie responded, "I'll do ANYTHING you want me to." Isabel kissed her girlfriend one more time before taking her back to bed. "Just curious," she said. Torrie couldn't imagine what the beautiful woman lying down next to her had in mind. And she could barely wait to find out. ----------- ------------------- To be continued . . . Twenty Years to Life Ch. 03 This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. ------------- ----------------------- The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author's permission. This story takes place in the entirely fictional city of Springfield, California, so don't go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD's, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex. Also, although this story (and subsequent chapters) are placed in the "Novels and Novellas" category, that is primarily because no other single category made any more sense. This overall storyline has some aspects of group sex, interracial sex, lesbian sex, heterosexual sex, anal sex, as well as BDSM sexual activity. If any of these types of activities bother you, you might want to stop reading now. -------------- ------------------------ "Twenty Years to Life" Part 3 -------------- ------------------------ Torrie and Rachel were sitting at opposite ends of the sofa in Torrie's above-garage apartment. Rachel looked somewhat stunned, and Torrie was nervously biting her bottom lip. She had just leveled with her best friend about something. Five months earlier, Torrie had entered into a sexual relationship with Isabel Turner, and it was a relationship of bondage and submission. Two months earlier, their relationship had become public knowledge after a lingering neuro-psychological disorder had almost resulted in Torrie's death. While a combination of medication and exercise had helped restore Torrie's state of mind to where it was supposed to be, she had still felt bad about keeping her relationship with Isabel a secret from Rachel, even though the couple had their reasons for secrecy. Isabel and Torrie had discussed the issue, and had finally decided to come clean about the nature of their relationship with close friends. They didn't want people to get concerned if Torrie started acting a little strangely from time to time. Torrie hoped that Rachel would be able to handle knowing what she suddenly knew. They were an interesting pair; Torrie was a California surfer girl with pink hair, while Rachel was a black girl with big breasts and an attitude to match. They had lived down the street from each other for many years before Torrie's parents had found a better place, and the two of them had been going to the same schools since they were kids. "You . . . like this sort of stuff?" Rachel asked. "More than chocolate," Torrie said. "I wanted to tell you for a long time. It was just hard. I didn't want you to think I was weak or anything. Then I stopped caring and . . . well, you know the rest." "Damn, could you be just a little normal?" Rachel said, then wished she hadn't. Torrie had visibly blanched. "Torrie, I didn't mean it like that. I mean . . . first, you're ungodly smart, but you hate school. Then you told me you were gay. Now, you like being tied up and whipped . . ." "No whips," Torrie muttered. "They're a little too dangerous, and they leave these marks . . ." "NOT the point," Rachel said. "And I've seen you together, but I've never seen her ordering you around like that." "We have rules now. She wanted us to be a normal couple sometimes, so we came up with times and places that she can't command me. And she wanted me to start spending more time with you guys again. I wanted to spend more time with you guys. I hate saying this," Torrie said, her eyes teary, "but I can't do this all on my own. I'm scared of what might happen if I start to slip again . . ." "That won't happen," Rachel said vehemently. "We won't let it." "But I want you guys in my life, but I want Isabel too, and I want what she and I have now. And I want you to understand that." Rachel shrugged then smirked. "Torrie, I'm NEVER going to understand you. That's what makes you so fuckin' fun. You don't need my permission to be a freak. Hell, I'm the LAST one who should be bein' critical of someone else for stuff like that. So where is your 'mistress' anyway?" Torrie smiled, pouncing down the sofa and hugging her friend. "She's STILL mending bridges with an old friend. Her name is Janine. She and Isabel had a thing back in high-school." "Doesn't that make you jealous?" "Not really. Both of them are sort of ostracized from their old friends now that their secrets are out. Besides, Janine's cute and Isabel may give me to her for a while as a peace offering . . ." "Get OUT! You do that shit?" "Outside of this room and under a few other circumstances, I'll do ANYTHING she tells me to." "God, I can only fuckin' IMAGINE what Jeremy would do if he knew." Torrie blushed. "Actually, there's something else I need to tell you. You probably won't like it, but it's something you should know . . ." ------------ -------------- Across town . . . ------------ -------------- "You want me to what?!" Janine Carpenter almost shouted before getting her voice in check. "Fuck my girlfriend. I thought I'd made that clear." Isabel was smiling. She had been having the same conversation with Janine that Torrie had been having with Rachel. Isabel was happier than she'd imagined she would be having Janine back in her life. Janine had been Isabel's only REAL friend in a world phonies and facades. Janine's father had gone to jail for tax evasion and her parents had divorced, leaving the once affluent young woman as an "average" person. That meant she was no longer in Isabel's social stratosphere, meaning the two weren't able to socialize as much as they would have liked. A chance encounter just over a month earlier had put them back in touch, and Isabel was determined not to let her friend slip away again. She and Janine had hung out a couple of times a week, sometimes with Torrie around and sometimes without. Isabel had been trying to think of a way to take her sexual domination of Torrie to the next level, and what better way than to use her to provide pleasure to someone that Isabel had to some degree wronged? It seemed like a perfectly sensible idea to her. She and Torrie had discussed the idea of sharing the submissive's body . . . actually, Isabel had discussed it and had spanked Torrie until she agreed. But she had been smiling when she said "yes." And the fact that Janine had arranged for a job interview for Torrie at the Victoria's Secrets she worked at for Torrie sealed the deal. "But . . . listen, I told you I understand about what happened. I know the rules of the social elite. You don't have to . . . do . . . this." "I . . . I know. And I need you to know that I am . . . with . . . Torrie. I just thought it might be fun, and maybe you could understand what I do and why. She . . . and this . . . are big parts of my life now." "Do you love her?" Isabel blushed. "I think I do. Don't tell her!" she said, realizing what she had admitted. "I want to, but in my own time." "So you love her, but you also tie her up and make her into a sex slave, and you want to share your cute slave/girlfriend with me." "She gives good head!" Isabel said. She knew Janine had a bit of a wild streak anyway, and she could tell she had her on the ropes. "C'mon! I need to further her 'education,' and I want her first couple forays into that area to be with people I know and trust. People like you. Did I mention she gives REALLY good head?" Janine was blushing from ear to ear, but she was smiling as well. "Okay, what do I do?" ---------- ------------- The next day . . . ---------- ------------- "Have you taken your medicine? Did you have something to eat when you took it?" Isabel asked. "Yes ma'am." "Good. Now, I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. This is the first time we've had company here, and Janine was nice enough to get you a job interview where she works. So I expect you to show your gratitude." Isabel was quite pleased with her pet's appearance. Torrie was wearing a PVC French Maid outfit with a skirt that barely covered her ass, a top that left her toned midsection exposed and pushed her cleavage up. She also had on fishnet stockings, a black g-string and heels, and her make-up would have been the pride of streetwalkers everywhere. With Isabel's new job as a mall manager, she was still able to live the life to which she had been accustomed. It wasn't as profitable as things would have been if she and her father were still amiable, but it was something Isabel had gotten on her own. And having an influx of money again allowed her to buy new toys and outfits for her serving girl. Isabel herself was wearing a beautiful evening dress, but the pretty wrapping didn't fool Torrie for a minute. She knew that her mistress had something else on under it, and she couldn't wait to see it. Isabel stopped when she was standing behind Torrie, admiring her girlfriend's taut body. She felt her heart racing in anticipation of the evening's activities. She ran her tongue from Torrie's shoulder up her neck until it reached the girl's ear. She sucked on that cute little earlobe, then whispered, "You look so completely fuckable, you little bitch!" And she meant it. Torrie had been working hard to get into the finest shape of her life. Once Torrie's mental state was on solid ground again, she had started going back to an aerobics class she was taking where the women were taught to move like exotic dancers. It was apparently quite a workout! Little did Torrie know that her mistress was planning on putting that training to the test. Isabel had already found out when all the local strip clubs had their amateur nights, and she was going to take her slave to each and every single one. The doorbell rang, and Isabel straightened her back. It was show time. "Get the door," she ordered. Torrie obediently went and let Janine in. She had met Janine a couple of times, but it was clear that the newcomer hadn't anticipated Torrie looking like she was. Torrie kept her eyes pointed slightly down as she took Janine's purse and placed it Isabel's bedroom. "Okay, she's hot!" Janine whispered heatedly to Isabel. But Isabel remained composed. "She's of suitable stock," she replied. "Hurry up," she snapped at the bedroom. "Dinner is getting cold." Torrie hurried out of the bedroom and began setting the table. Janine noticed that the girl's skirt often flared up and exposed that cute little ass. She wondered if Torrie was doing it on purpose. At one point, the girl made a little too much noise as she put Janine's plate on the table. "Good help is hard to find these days," Isabel growled. "Grab the table you worthless whore!" Janine was shocked to hear her friend say such things to the woman she cared so much about, even though she had been trying to prepare herself for this. She watched as Torrie firmly grabbed the edge of the table. Isabel grabbed a wooden spoon out of a drawer and lifted up the edge of Torrie's skirt. Then she laid a sharp, loud "thwack" across those taut buns, and the skin turned slight red under the blow. Janine looked at Torrie's face, and the girl was biting her bottom lip. While not exactly a loose woman, Janine had been with enough girls to know that while the blow may have stung, Torrie had enjoyed it. Isabel gave two more swats with the spoon, then put it next to her own plate. "You need to have the right utensils for dinner," Isabel said with a smirk. She got another wooden spoon out and put next to Janine's place setting. Torrie wandered over and pulled their guest's chair out. After Janine was seated, she did the same for Isabel. "See," her mistress said. "A little bit of discipline, and she actually gets something right." She patted Torrie on the ass. "Now, pour the wine," she ordered. Dinner was pleasant, if a little odd. Janine and Isabel chatted along like normal friends, being waited on hand and foot by Isabel's sex slave / girlfriend. If Torrie was late pouring a refill or clearing something off the table, she received more swats to the behind. Janine was instructed to deliver some of these blows herself, particularly if Isabel felt the "help" had slighted her guest in some way. After Torrie had cleared the table after dinner, it was time for dessert. "French silk pie," Isabel said smugly. She knew that was Janine's favorite. "Oh, my diet is never going to forgive you," Janine said. "Well actually, dessert is going to be a two-fold event," Isabel informed her as Torrie placed a slice of pie in front of the guest. When Janine looked confused, the host continued. "Well, you will be eating something French, and something French will be eating you. On your knees," she barked at Torrie. "Now I want you to show our guest why it is that I keep you around," she finished. Torrie crawled under the table, and Janine quickly lost sight of her. But she soon felt hands on the outsides of her legs, pushing her loose skirt up to her hips. 'Shit,' she thought, 'she's actually going to . . .' Her train of thought was cut off as she felt a tongue licking a long swathe across her panties, causing her to shudder. "Don't forget to eat your dessert," Isabel reminded her, smiling evilly. Janine picked up her fork and sank it into her dessert. Just then, she felt her underwear being pulled down to her ankles, and her chair pulled forward. Her stomach was almost directly against the table and her butt was on the edge of her seat, but these were minor discomforts compared to the pleasurable shudders that started running through her body as Torrie's lips encircled Janine's clit and sucked on it gently. Isabel was loving the expressions crossing her friend's face. They ranged from confusion to lust, with the latter taking almost complete control. She slipped off one of her high heels and started rubbing the top of her foot against Torrie's crotch under the table, inciting her slave to do a good job. Torrie needed no such incentive, but she certainly was enjoying it. She was bound and determined to please her mistress by pleasing Janine. She released the girl's clit and started darting her tongue around the girl's mound, then tracing the route in a long, slow motion. Then up the middle she went, lapping like a child with an ice cream cone. Janine was struggling to devour her dessert. Isabel hadn't been lying about Torrie's ability. She felt the girl's tongue slide deeper into her sexual crevice while her nose bumped against Janine's clitoral hood ever so lightly. Isabel had hiked up her own dress and was pleasuring herself between bites, and she had inserted her big toe into Torrie's box. She almost laughed when she thought about how concerned she had been that Torrie's return to psychological normalcy might mean an end to their games. In fact it had turned out that Torrie had experienced a passionate and sexual awakening, and this was just the first stop on their new journey together. Isabel made a mental note to give her girlfriend a good solid fucking the next time she got a chance to be "normal" with her. Janine had the last bite of pie on her fork when she felt a familiar stirring deep in her pleasure center. Her eyes were wide and bright as her pussy twitched and she started to cum. She let out a series of quick gasps directly onto her fork. She had lost the ability to bring that morsel the few remaining inches to her mouth as the woman under the table ate her through the entire orgasm. When she was finally able to move again, she took that last bite into her mouth, and it was the most exquisite morsel of food she had ever consumed. "Yummy," she practically purred. "I'm sure it was," Isabel replied a bit smugly. She drug her foot away from Torrie's crotch, wiping it on the inside of the girl's legs before putting her foot back in her shoe. "Come out from under the table you little slut," she said to the invisible girl. "I think we'll retire to the living area and watch some television. Home movies are the order of the evening, I should think." Torrie was blushing under the table. If these were the movies she thought they were, then Janine would be getting an eyeful indeed. Torrie was instructed to take her "place," which meant kneeling in front of Isabel, eyes pointing downward and awaiting her mistress's next wish. Isabel picked up the remote control and Torrie heard the movie begin behind her. Indeed, Isabel had put in a composite tape of domination sessions the two had experienced. Just from listening, Torrie recognized a couple of strip-tease sessions, several dinner sessions that involved her being strapped to the dining room table and used as a serving dish, and a number of bondage sessions. It was apparent that Janine was enamored with what she saw, and was rubbing her legs together quietly in attempt to achieve some relief. Isabel saw it. "I think my guest would like to make use of your services," she told Torrie. "Janine, if you wouldn't mind turning sideways so that your back is against the arm of the sofa. Thank you." She grabbed a small back from under the coffee table, and Torrie instantly wondered what was in it. "On my lap whore," she ordered, "and keep that face pointing towards our guest." Torrie slowly, almost cat-like, crawled onto the couch and kept moving until her face was once again directly in front of Janine's crotch. She felt Isabel grabbing her wrists and holding them behind her back. Her mistress reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of velvet-lined handcuffs and secured Torrie's wrists, leaving the girl helpless. Without her hands to support her, Torrie's face fell into Janine's skirt. Isabel looked at Janine and smiled. "Feel free to make use of her face," she said. While Janine thought the entire situation was still a bit awkward, she had also become incredibly aroused. She hiked up her skirt (and wondered where her panties had been left) and held Torrie's mouth against her pussy. Janine felt the tongue start to move into her box, causing her to groan. "I don't recall her telling you to begin," Isabel scolded. "Always wait until they are ready," she added, pulled a wooden paddle covered in rubber out of the bag. "I'm afraid that means its time for your punishment. But don't you DARE stop pleasing our guest. She shouldn't be forced to suffer due to your incompetence." Then Isabel lifted Torrie's skirt, raised the paddle and brought it down swiftly onto Torrie's perfect ass. When Janine heard the loud SMACK, she noticed a distinct increase in tongue movement. "That lit a fire under the little slut," Janine said, trying to get a little more into the game. "Could you do that again?" Isabel was enormously pleased at Janine's willingness to participate. "Absolutely. Tell me when she gets to just the right level for you," she finished, then swatted Torrie's ass again, this time on the other cheek. Janine's eyes clouded over as the ends of her mouth crept upward in a wonderful smile. But since she hadn't said to stop . . . SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Torrie's ass was turning beet red, so Isabel decided to giver her a break. She placed the paddle on those stinging cheeks and grabbed a smooth, slim-line vibrator out of the bag. She had packed it for a number of contingencies! She activated the device, pushed Torrie's g-string aside and pushed the toy into her girlfriend's dripping sex. She began thrusting with it, watching Torrie's twat as it spread for the invader. Torrie was licking frantically in order to please Janine and, in turn, please Isabel. The vibrating sensations emanating from her crotch were delicious torment. She sucked directly on Janine's clit, flicking her tongue against the sensitive nub. Janine's hips raised up, pressing harder against Torrie's face. Janine braced herself on the arm of the couch with her shoulders so she could reach underneath and spread her own ass cheeks. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 03 "Eat my ass too!" she barked, then blushed when she realized she had almost sounded like Isabel for a moment. But her aggressive attitude was quickly rewarded as Torrie began an equally aggressive rim job. Janine rubbed her crotch up and down, making Torrie alternate between licking pussy and licking asshole. Isabel turned the vibrator in Torrie's opening up a notch, then pushed it in until only the tip was visible outside of the girl's pussy. Then she slid Torrie's panties back into place, leaving the device buried inside. Isabel picked up the paddle one more time . . . SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Torrie latched onto to Janine's clit like a leech and refused to relinquish it, applying a gently sucking action. She felt the girl's body beginning to tremble and felt relief. Torrie was close to release herself, and Isabel would NOT look kindly on Torrie achieving it before their guest did. And as Janine started cumming, Torrie licked up her juices as quickly as she could. "Good girl," Isabel said soothingly. "At least we seem to have found ONE thing that you're good for." Isabel knew that Torrie had to be close. Her hips were shifting gently side to side, her tender backside was covered in sweat and she was breathing incredibly heavily into Janine's recovering pussy. "I can't believe how 'in heat' you are. A stray dog would be ashamed of behaving they way you are!" She snuck a finger under Torrie's underwear and pushed it into the girl's tight sphincter. She wiggled it around, while raising the paddle again and giving her pet another two swats, one on each cheek. She watched as Torrie's back arched and the muscles of her legs were straining under her tanned skin. It was a beautiful sight to the girl's mistress. Torrie loved being spanked. The vibrator and anal fingering had just fueled the fire, but it was the spanking that lit Torrie up. And as she climaxed on Isabel's lap, Isabel let the paddle fall just a few more times. When Torrie fell limp with her head in Janine's lap and her ass in Isabel's lap, just was breathing as if she had just given birth. "I think she's done," Janine said, lifting up Torrie's cum covered face and noticing the exhausted look that resided there. "Oh, she's not done. Not by a long shot," Isabel responded. "On the floor bitch," she growled at Torrie. On your knees." Torrie slid tiredly off the couch, the vibrator still humming contentedly inside her pussy. She watched as Isabel stood and let her evening dress slide off, revealing a pink leather bra and matching thong. "You like what you see, don't you?" Isabel asked. "Of course you do." Isabel took off the bra, letting her sizeable tits swing free. She sat back down and drew Torrie's face to her breast, indicating for her to suckle. Torrie did as was demanded with a song in her heart. All the pink-haired girl could do was pray that Isabel allowed her servant to orally please her in some form or another. In the meantime, she allowed her head to be cradled by Isabel's suddenly gentle hands as she sucked on her mistress's soft nipples. Isabel looked at Janine. "I have . . . another bag on the pillow in the bedroom. Go look in it. I'm sure you'll figure out what I want you to do with its contents. Actually, Janine knew EXACTLY what to do, as this was something she and Isabel had discussed the previous day. As she headed to the bedroom, Isabel was drawing her captive to her feet and reaching between her legs to withdraw the weakening vibrator from the depths of Torrie's being. Isabel then bent her girlfriend over the arm of the couch while she herself lay down on it. Torrie knew what to do from there. Here shoulders were getting a bit sore since her wrists had been secured behind her back for a while, but the pain was all part of the game. Isabel grabbed a handful of Torrie's hair and directed her head to Isabel's crotch. "Start eating," her mistress growled. Torrie was quick to obey, licking her lover around the leather thong, teasing the fleshy outer labia. Then Isabel removed the thong so Torrie could be more effective in her desire to please. Janine came out of the bedroom, unbeknownst to Torrie. She carried a small bottle of lubricant and was completely naked except for the strap-on harness she had found. Attached to the harness was a twelve-inch, flesh-like dildo that was as thick as her wrist. She lubed it up well before approaching Torrie's hapless form and awaiting instructions. Isabel held Torrie's head in place and nodded, so Janine put the head of the toy squarely against Torrie's nether opening and pushed in. Torrie gasped. It wasn't as if she hadn't had anything in that hole before. Besides the vibrator used on her earlier, Isabel had used a number of devices, including a fairly large cucumber, on Torrie. But as her vaginal opening stretched and she felt more and more slide into her body, she realized that she had never had anything quite so long. Janine was going to stuff her pussy with it, and there wasn't much she could do about it. So she concentrated on pleasuring Isabel and just let other things happen. Once Janine had the entire thing inside Torrie's body, she stretched to reach the paddle. She picked it up, pulled the entire length out, then spanked Torrie hard on the ass and drove the dildo home again. All the air seemed to be driving from Torrie's body, and she struggled to keep her lips moving. Isabel's cunt was perfect and she would hate to neglect it. She buried her mouth in its juicy cleft, moving her tongue up and down rapidly while growling like an animal. Meanwhile, Janine started up a tempo of long fast strokes, each emphasized by a quick swat on the behind. The spankings weren't as hard as they had been. Rather, they were just to keep that beautiful behind nice and sensitive. But then the dildo started coming harder and faster, as did the slaps on her ass. It was stinging enough that Torrie's eyes started to water, but she wouldn't complain. She just kept licking Isabel's pussy. Janine was hammering into Torrie with great fervor. She put the paddle down and grabbed the lube, coating her fingers. Then she shoved to fingers into Torrie's asshole while the enormous fake cock filled her pussy. She stretched that little opening as much as she could, then inserted a third finger. Isabel finally lost control and began to orgasm. Torrie had become so adept at making her mistress cum that Isabel was slightly surprised it had taken as long as it had. But Torrie had never been forced to do it while being bent over a sofa and getting fucked with an enormous dildo before, so Isabel was willing to cut her some slack. 'But she'd better get used to it,' she thought, 'because I have other plans for her.' But even after Isabel's climax had come and gone, she ordered Torrie to keep going. Torrie's make-up was running down her face due to sweat and some tears, and she was rapidly becoming exhausted. And Janine's constant and incessant pounding was causing a dull ache in her vaginal area. The multiple fingers in her ass was more pleasing than she thought it would be, and actually added to the pleasure the dildo was delivering. With her one free hand, Janine delivered one more stroke to Torrie's cherry-red ass, sending the girl into the throes of ecstasy. She practically screamed in pleasure into Isabel's box as a mind-blowing orgasm rocked through her body, leaving no muscles or neurons unaffected. Her back arched and tightened, her pussy clenched and her ass tried to capture Janine's fingers. By the time her body relaxed, there was a sizeable wet spot on the arm of the couch. "Did I give you permission to stop?" Isabel asked shortly. Torrie mustered up her almost completely depleted strength and tried as hard as she could to get Isabel off again. Isabel seemed to move her hips periodically to bring her clitoris just out of reach of Torrie's tongue. She was going to make her slave work for the privilege of tasting her cum again. And Torrie was trying anything she could think of, and finally she was able to do it. Isabel's second orgasm was as delectable as the first, and finally Torrie was allowed to rest. Isabel asked Janine to stay right where she was. The lady of the house (or apartment) crawled out from under her servant and went to her computer desk and grabbed her electronic camera. She took several pictures of the massive device buried in Torrie's pussy, then got a few shots of the girl's disheveled face. Then she had Janine pull the toy out of Torrie's snatch and push the head of it between Torrie's lips, then Isabel took a few more pictures. With Torrie's mouth stretched to the limit just to fit the head inside, Isabel had Janine disconnect the dildo and leave it on the sofa, still partially filling Torrie's mouth. Isabel and Janine sat nearby. "So now you've seen what she is capable of," Isabel started. "Come by tomorrow morning and pick her up. She'll be yours for the day. Feel free to use her for whatever you would like. Just remember to make sure she is properly dressed for her interview. Oh, and she is supposed to meet with her friends for dinner, so if you could drop her off for that, I will pick her up afterward. I'll take care of her medication in the evening, so don't worry about that. Did you have any questions?" "No, I think I've got it." Janine and Isabel had actually talked a great deal the day before about what Isabel wanted her friend to do with Torrie, and Janine was actually beginning to look forward to it. She got dressed and Isabel escorted her outside. "Your girlfriend is a freak!" she whispered excitedly as the door closed. Isabel cracked a smile. "You have no idea how long I've been looking for someone like her. She's perfect for me! She's hot, she's beautiful, she's smart . . ." "And she's a sexual dynamo," Janine finished. "Are you really okay with her . . . being with me without you being around?" "I set this whole thing up, didn't I? As long as with other people it is just sex and as long as she actually . . . cares . . . I guess . . . for me, then I'm excited to see what she's willing to endure." Isabel gave Janine a hug. She was happy, because Janine seemed to "get it" now. She was beginning to understand Isabel and Torrie's unique relationship and how serious they both were about it, which could lead to all sorts of possibilities down the road. "Besides, as long as you check in with me, I'll ALWAYS be around. See you tomorrow morning." Isabel went back inside and removed the head of the huge fake cock from Torrie's mouth, causing a reservoir of drool to leak out. Isabel didn't care. She could clean that up easy enough. But Torrie looked exhausted, so she uncuffed the poor girl and led her the bedroom where she helped Torrie onto the bed. She got a warm washcloth and scrubbed the girl's body down. "Okay," Isabel said, "I need you to be my girlfriend now." Torrie turned her head and smiled. "I'm always that," she said. "You know what I mean you silly goose. How are you feeling?" Isabel asked. Torrie was lying face first, her behind being almost too well abused for her to sleep on her back. So Isabel straddled Torrie's lower back and began massaging her shoulders. Torrie winced at first, but slowly began to relax. "Okay. I think my butt is more sore than it's ever been, and my shoulder hurts. But I figured you already guessed that part," she murmured as Isabel massaged that particular body part. Isabel kissed her lover on the back of the neck, getting a slight coo for a response. "Are you sure you're going to be okay with tomorrow?" "I'm a little nervous, but I'm okay. Are you going to be okay? I won't do it if you think . . . you know, if you think it might come . . . between us . . . somehow." Isabel smiled. She flipped Torrie over onto her back, and the pink-haired girl winced when her tender backside encountered the bed. Isabel straddled the girl's stomach, grabbed her nipples and tugged hard. Torrie was grinning as she gasped, pulling back and applying extra pressure on those sensitive nubs. "Nothing can come between us if I don't allow it," Isabel pointed out. She pulled on Torrie's tits a little harder. "You're mine. Don't ever forget that," she crooned, then leaned in and kissed Torrie on the lips, releasing her grip on her girlfriend's nipples. "But it's next week I'm worried about. Are you going to be okay with THAT?" Torrie bit her bottom lip a bit seductively. "Do you want me to be?" "Good answer," Isabel snickered and then tugged on Torrie's nipples again. Apparently, it would be a little while longer before either of them got any sleep. ---------- --------------------- The next afternoon . . . ---------- --------------------- All in all, it had been a good day for Torrie. Though her posterior was still aching from its treatment the night before, she had actually enjoyed spending the day with Janine. She had gone shopping with the girl, and Janine had Torrie carry all the bags. Then Torrie had gone to her interview, and she had actually gotten along pretty well with the manager. Mrs. Abercrombie was a cynical old broad, so she and Torrie hit it off right away. Torrie was under the distinct impression she would be getting called with a job offer in the near future. 'Me, selling thongs and perfume,' she thought to herself. 'What's the world coming to?' Then Janine had taken her lingerie shopping. Her temporary caretaker had been given strict instructions on what to look for. He had to provide minimal covering (particularly, nothing could cover her washboard abs), and had to look good against the pink skin of a well-spanked ass. So Janine had brought a paddle she had borrowed from Isabel and gave Torrie's already sore behind a few "thwacks" to give it color, then took pictures of it while in the changing room of Victoria's Secrets. Janine knew the girl at the counter would have her hands full and probably wouldn't be able to check in for a while, so Janine sat down on the bench, hiked up her skirt and got ready for another dose of the pleasure that Torrie's mouth could provide. Torrie was on her knees and eating pussy with a snap of Janine's fingers. And Janine wasn't satisfied with just one orgasm, and Torrie obeyed this woman just like her mistress had ordered her to do. It was a good fifteen minutes before they emerged from the dressing room and both girls were quite pleased. Over lunch, they talked like normal friends on an outing. Janine asked Torrie about her psychological health and tried to understand the deterioration that had led up to her recent hospitalization. Torrie had become more comfortable talking about it since she had come to understand that her particular type of clinical depression had a neurophysiological nature and wasn't due to some weakness of personality on her part. Torrie in turn asked about Janine's prior relationship with Isabel and how she had adjusted going from a life of privilege to a life "more ordinary." Then there was some more shopping, and Torrie was again called upon to sexually service Janine in a stall of the ladies bathroom. By the time Torrie was dropped off at the restaurant to have dinner with her other friends, Torrie actually asked Janine to join them. Torrie noticed her friend Rachel rolling her eyes every now and then, because she knew what the two girls had probably been up to. Rachel was a bit out of sorts concerning her conversation with Torrie the day before. She appreciated Torrie's honesty and trust, but there were some things even the best friend shouldn't know. Finally, Janine dropped Torrie (and her bag of lingerie) off at Isabel's for some quality "one on one" time. Isabel was happy with her slave's new attire and insisted on Torrie modeling each peace, including doing an erotic strip tease before changing into the next piece. For the second night in a row, sleep didn't come quickly for the young couple. ---------- -------------------- That same evening . . . ---------- -------------------- Rachel was sitting on the hood of her car, waiting in a secluded area of a large public park for a couple of people to arrive. Dinner had been fun, but she was still trying to wrap her head around some of the things Torrie had told her. "My best friend is . . . weird," she muttered. She could scarcely believe what her best friend had been up to, and it was even harder to comprehend what she was planning on doing. She knew that the two would survive as friends . . . "Man, you look like someone just ran over your dog. Then stopped, got out of the car, insulted your dog, then got back in the car and backed up." "Shut up Frank," Rachel said, trying vainly to suppress her grin. The Hawaiian native always managed to cheer her up. She couldn't tell him about her conversation with Torrie, as her friend had said she wanted to talk to all her friends individually about her new life. But Frank might help her out in another way. "Sorry it took me so long. Your brother was talking my head off. I finally managed to direct his attention towards a girl roller-skating on the boardwalk just to get rid of him. Then I had to park halfway across the park and . . ." "S'okay baby," she murmured, grabbing Frank's shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. "I know just what you can do to make it all better." "I'm not too late am I?" came a new voice. Rachel looked over and saw Charlie, her hunkie white part-time lover. He was a friend of her father and a construction worker with a killer body, and was incredibly well endowed to boot. She had thought she might need some extra attention after the last couple of days. She turned back to her boyfriend, happy she had found someone who encouraged her to fuck as many guys as she wanted, as long as she told him all about it. She kissed him, then hopped down off the car. "You two boys drop 'em and have a seat. I'm needin' to blow off some steam, and I thought I'd start by blowin' somethin' else." Both men smiled and dropped their pants to their ankles. "This is a bit awkward," Frank said, offering his hand to the man next to him. "I've never shaken hands with a half-naked guys before . . . when the bottom half was naked anyway . . . but I'm Frank." Charlie shook that hand. "Charlie. You the boyfriend?" "Yeah." "Your girlfriend sucks a mean dick." "Tell me about it!" "Rather than tell you about it," Rachel interrupted, then leaned over and sucked on Frank's cock, going down to the root after just a few strokes. She reached out and took Charlie's massive ten-inch tool, wrapping her hand around it and stroking it. Then she switched, sucking on Charlie's meat-pole and jerking off Frank's. "That's it baby," Frank said when it was his turn again to fill his girlfriend's mouth with meat. "Shit, you suck like a vacuum." That earned him a gentle squeeze of his balls. When she switched back to Charlie, she went over halfway down before she started to gag. She relaxed her throat and was able to squeeze another inch in, but that was it. He reached down and pulled her shirt up over her head, wanting to get a look at those large tits of hers. She released her grip on Frank's shaft for a moment so she could unhook her bra, then started jerking him off again. She loved sucking on Charlie's intimidating shaft and dragging her tongue along the fleshy underside as she slowly let it slide out of her mouth. But her favorite cock was still Frank's. It was smaller but still big enough for some fun and she was able to deepthroat him, which was one of her favorite things to do. She made sure to get lots of spit on both shafts. They would need to be well lubricated for future use. "She has the hottest mouth," Charlie growled. "I could get used to getting sucked off by you." "You already are," she replied, kissing the mushroom-like head of his penis. "Remember when I sucked you off in the bathroom." Twenty Years to Life Ch. 03 "God yeah," he grinned. "Your dad was right down the hall . . . oh shit!" She had engulfed the head of his cock again, stroking the shaft underneath with her hand. The she pulled up and quickly placed her tits around Charlie's dick and squeezed them tightly together. The head was sticking out above her cleavage, so she took it in her mouth and sucked as hard as she could. Frank got off the hood of the car and went around behind her, pulling her pants and panties down to her ankles. He grabbed her by the hips and plunged into her pink cunt, making her groan with excitement. She just stood there as Charlie humped her flesh-melons and Frank filled her pussy over and over again. "How did I get so lucky?" she said. "Two big studs to fuck me at the same time!" "Two? Isn't that a slow night for you?" Charlie joked. "Hey, I only fucked more than one person at a time, and that was that once when your wife was out of town. That was one hell of a poker game!" Rachel's mouth watered when she thought about how she had sexually satisfied four guys in the same night. She had planned a repeat performance, but that was when Torrie's breakdown had occurred, and her own sex life had been put on hold for a while. As she talked about that night, Frank started hammering her harder. His balls were slapping against her crotch like nobody's business. He loved hearing all the dirty things that Rachel did. Then he pulled out and crouched down, burying his face in her pussy and licking like there was no tomorrow as Rachel released Charlie's member from its fleshy cage so she could suck on it some more. Frank snaked a couple of fingers into Rachel's box and spread those inner labia wide open, marveling at the contrast between pink inner flesh and dark outer flesh. He got one of his thumbs wet by plunging it into her honeypot and then pushed that thumb into her ass. Then he went back to teasing her slit and clit with his tongue. "That's it baby," Rachel said when she came up for air. "Get that asshole ready!" "You get to fuck her in the ass?" Charlie said with surprise. "You lucky bastard! She doesn't let anyone else do that!" "That's why I'M the boyfriend," Frank said. He stood up, grabbed Rachel around the waist and lifted her off the ground until her knees were level with the hood of the car. Then he deposited Rachel in Charlie's lap, directly on top of his aching member. She reached a hand back and guided that stiff shaft into her waiting pussy and sank all the way down onto it. "Oh, that's so fuckin' good!" she said as she started to bounce. Her cunt was stretched as Charlie's stick filled her up right. She didn't have much time to revel in that sensation as she soon felt another one. It was the sensation of Frank's beautiful dick pushing against her backdoor. Nice and slick from its trip up Rachel's vaginal canal, it was ready for some backdoor loving. "Wait," she whispered to Charlie as she settled down and waited for Frank to push all the way inside. She had never taken two guys at the same time in that way before, and she didn't want to rush it. Her asshole started to expand and that familiar dull pain arrived. She knew it would be gone soon and be replaced with pleasure, but what kind of pleasure remained to be seen. More and more of Frank's shaft eased into her veteran sphincter until he finally bottomed out. Rachel felt as full as she had ever felt in her life. "Oh sweet Christ, how come I never tried this before?" she asked of the full moon shining over her head. Charlie began pumping his hips a little and Frank followed suit. The two of them could sense the other through the thin wall that separated their cocks, and both had to admit they liked the feeling. Both of Rachel's tunnels were tighter than they had ever been, and both of them wanted to take advantage of the situation. The two developed a rhythm of sliding in and out of Rachel. Frank had reached around and was mauling his girlfriend's tits, occasionally moving his hands so that Charlie could suck on those massive melons. Rachel's brain was exploding with pleasure, and her body soon followed. "Don't stop! I'm gonna fuckin' cum!" she shouted as both men kept thrusting into her. True to her word, her body arched and her orifices clamped down and her pussy expelled cum down onto Charlie's powerful hips. Wave after wave of sexual passion flowed through her and onto her lovers. When her sphincter and vaginal opening loosened up, both men started going again, fucking her like madmen. Frank was blasting a load deep in her bowels, filling her anal passage with his own man-juice. "Stay in her," Charlie said as he approached his own orgasm. The pressure of her climax and the added pressure of having a still semi-rigid shaft in her backdoor was all he needed, and he filled her womb with his seed. The three of them stayed locked in that position for a moment. Rachel felt their cum trying to leak out of her respective orifices and was content. She knew she had to do this more often. Double-penetration was definitely one of her NEW favorite things. What Rachel, Frank and Charlie DIDN'T know was that they weren't alone. If they had peered into the darkness of some nearby trees, they might have seen a little green light and a sleazy looking man before both vanished to the other side of the park. ------------ ------------------- A few days later . . . ------------ ------------------- Rachel was humming happily to herself as she headed home from an afternoon out with her friends. She pulled into the driveway and noticed a familiar looking car. It was Charlie's car. She wondered what he was doing there. There wasn't a game on today, and he hadn't mentioned anything during their tryst that weekend. She walked in the door and instantly felt her blood start to chill. Her father was sitting in the living room, staring angrily into space. And there was a woman sitting in the seat next to him. Rachel recognized the woman from pictures . . . from family pictures on Charlie's mantle. It was his wife. And when she saw Rachel walk in, her already hostile countenance was enveloped in hatred . . . pure, unadulterated hatred. And that scared Rachel, but not as much as the anger in her own father's face when he turned to her. She didn't remember ever seeing her father like that. "Thank you Mrs. Anderson," her father whispered, his voice failing him. "I apologize for my own . . . failures . . . in this matter." Mrs. Abigail Anderson was still shooting spears from her eyes at Rachel, who was suddenly afraid for her safety. The woman picked a videotape up off the coffee table and stood up to leave. As she passed Rachel, the young woman could see Mrs. Anderson's skin tighten and her fist clench. "What comes around goes around, you little slut!" she growled, then stormed out of the room. 'Oh God!' Rachel thought. It finally dawned on her what had happened. Somehow, she knew . . . and now Rachel's father knew as well. "Dad . . ." "Shut up," he said in a tone that would accept no defiance. "I . . . I've always done my best to provide for you, you know that? I did my best to raise you right. I took you to church, I tried to teach about 'wrong' and 'right.' I tried to teach you about respect. You never wanted for anything in your life, and I never raised my hand to you, even in anger. So what the hell did I do to deserve you embarrassing me like this?" "I'm so sorry . . ." "Really? Well 'sorry' doesn't even begin to cut it. You . . . you . . . you committed adultery, with a man I trusted, in this house. And in his own house. And who knows how many other places," he said, standing up and glaring at her. "I couldn't watch . . . but I heard . . . I heard all the things you've done and where you did them. Mrs. Anderson suspected her husband . . .," he said, gritting his teeth. He couldn't stand to say the man's name. ". . . was cheating on her. So she hired a private detective to follow him. He caught everything you said and did this weekend at the park. You . . . doing those things . . . with a married man and that punk-ass kid you've been hanging out with. And the complete lack of shame . . . You think it was fun, violating the laws of man and God, and sometimes even under this very roof? You think it was fun to wreck that poor woman's home just for thrills? I've known her for years. I was there when she married that piece of shit . . ." John (Rachel's father) was trembling with anger. "She's a good woman. She didn't deserve this." Rachel felt something she hadn't felt in a long time . . . guilt. Her father was right. Charlie had never said that his wife was untrue to him or mean or anything bad. He had just wanted a hot young girl to fuck on the side, and Rachel had been willing to be just that. And her father had been right about doing it just for the thrills. "I didn't want to believe her," John continued. "But the camera doesn't lie. I've never been disappointed in you until now. Maybe it's my fault . . ." he started. "No Dad, it . . ." "I said SHUT UP! You've done enough already. Maybe I just never made you take enough responsibility for your life. I let you live here because that's what a family is supposed to do. And you took that hospitality and that trust and that love and spit on it. No more," he said meaningfully. "I'm going to go pick up your mother from work, take her to dinner and try and explain all this to her in a way that won't break her heart. By the time we get back, I want you out of this house. If you take anything that isn't yours, I WILL call the police. You want to make a mockery out of your life, then fine. But you won't ever do it here again. Do you understand me? EVER!" Rachel's father grabbed his keys and stormed out of the house. Rachel was in shock. She was being kicked out of the only place she had ever lived, and she couldn't think of anyone to blame but herself. She knew she had to call Frank and warn him. If her father or Jeremy . . . especially Jeremy . . . ever caught up with him, there wouldn't be enough left of the boy to fill a thimble. She didn't have any idea where she was going to go or what she was going to do. She was still a semester away from graduating, and she was in no position to support herself. She hurried to her room and started to pack. There was so much history in that room, from her stuffed animals to her family pictures, that she didn't know where to start. She needed help, so she called the one person she knew she could count on. And when she found that Torrie wasn't at home, she called over to Isabel's place. She was in tears when Isabel picked up and quickly passed the phone to Torrie. She was babbling and crying, trying to get the words out. Torrie promised she would be over in a moment. ------------ --------------------- At Isabel's apartment . . . ------------ --------------------- "I'm sorry ma'am," Torrie apologized after her phone call was over. Isabel had just finished tying her to the dining room table in preparation for an early dinner. Her mistress began untying her. "Is she okay?" "No. I don't know what's wrong. Something about getting kicked out her house and that her father was going to kill Frank." Torrie realized that she was speaking with Isabel as an equal and bowed her head once she had been completely freed and was off the table. But Isabel grabbed her by the chin, raised her face and kissed her. "If you were the sort of person you would abandon her friends in their hour of need, you wouldn't be the slave . . . the woman I fell in love with." Torrie's heart caught in her throat. Isabel loved her? She couldn't bring herself to believe that she had just heard those words. Torrie had been in love with her beautiful mistress for a while, but had never thought it was her place to say anything. "I love you too," she whispered, kissing Isabel back as hard as she could. "I'll be back," she promised. "I'll always come back to you." Isabel basked in the glow of the moment. She felt a bit guilty at feeling such joy in Rachel's time of need, but she had finally found the right moment to say what she truly felt. She watched Torrie get dressed and walk out the door. Then Torrie walked back in. Isabel suppressed a grin as she handed Torrie her keys. "I don't have a car," the pink-haired girl mumbled as she headed off to Rachel's house. ---------- -------------------- Later that evening . . . ---------- -------------------- Rachel was still caught between panicking and crying hours later as she sat on Isabel's sofa. Torrie had been trying vainly to comfort her friend and convince her everything would be okay. She reminded her how much her father loved her and that her mother might be able to talk some sense into the man. But Torrie was finding it harder and harder to believe her own arguments. Isabel watched from nearby. She was torn between the desire to help this person who meant so much to Torrie and irritation. After a while, she had heard enough. "Torrie, would you go to the store and get what's on the grocery list? If Rachel's going to be staying here tonight, we'll need some more stuff for breakfast in the morning." "No," Rachel sniffed, "I'll be alright with . . ." "I'd really rather not . . ." Torrie started. "Ahem!" Isabel cleared her throat. "Let me make myself clear. "Torrie . . . GO . . . to the store and get what's on the grocery list. Get the money out of my purse. I'd like to talk to Rachel alone." "Yes ma'am," Torrie said, blushing with embarrassment. She knew when she was talking to her girlfriend versus when she was talking to her mistress, and things had suddenly slipped into the latter category. A hard slap on her posterior when she went to get Isabel's purse confirmed her observation. "What the . . ." Rachel started. "Just a moment," Isabel said, waiting for Torrie to get the money and leave the apartment. "Okay," Rachel sniffed, "what's the deal?" Isabel sat there, staring at the door before turning to her guest. "She's happy now. I can't tell you how much the fact that you stood by her for the last several years means to her. Left to her own devices, she'd probably drop everything to help you out." "That's what friends are for," Rachel murmured, a little unclear where this was going. Isabel cocked her head and stared at Rachel for a moment. "I want you to know that what I'm about to say isn't about being a bitch. Actually, I can sympathize with you probably better than anyone can right now. You weren't who your dad expected you to be or wanted you to be. Now he's mad at you. I can relate. My father hasn't spoken to me for two months now. I don't know if he ever will again." She paused, took a deep breath, then continued. "But there is a difference. I'm gay, and I can't change that. My father is pissed at me because of something I can't control. You CAN control why your father is pissed at you. That's probably why it hurt him so much. But from what you've said and what Torrie has told me, he'll probably forgive you. Mind you, this is worse than taking his car for a joyride and getting a ding in the bumper, but he'll forgive you. The question becomes, what will YOU do next?" Rachel was horribly confused. "I . . . I don't know. Get a job . . . finish school . . . I've only got one more semester . . ." "And where were you planning on living?" "Is that what this is about?" Rachel started angrily. "You think I'm gonna wanna move in with Torrie and screw up your little master-bitch sessions? I just fuckin' got kicked out of my house you fucking . . ." "Shut up right now," Isabel said steadily, "or not only will I not help you, but I'll make sure Torrie doesn't either." Rachel stopped. Did this woman really have that kind of power over Torrie? "But I don't want to do that. Actually, I WANT to help you. If you're serious about working your way, then that's a good start. But are you going to keep doing what got you into this predicament in the first place? Running around with married men without the consent of their wives? Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with you fucking as many men as you like . . ." "What, you think I'm a bad example . . ." "No, that's not it. I know this will sound paranoid, but I'm worried about this happening again. Rachel, you know what Torrie's been through, and she's just getting her life back on track. Her welding classes start next week, she may have a new job next week, she's reading again, and she's as healthy as she's ever been. I don't want to see her drop everything to help you if you aren't serious about turning things around." Rachel sat back down. "I would never do anything to hurt her," she whispered. "I just don't know what the hell to do. I . . . I'm not sure . . . I like sex, but I don't want to fuck up anyone else's life. I didn't mean to . . . I just never really saw her face before," she added, picturing the angry Mrs. Anderson. "Then I'll help you," Rachel said in a comforting tone. "You can stay here until you get back on your feet. I know you'd rather stay with Torrie, but she needs her own space and besides, Jeremy doesn't know where I live, and he's going to be ultra-pissed when he finds out about this." Rachel swallowed. Isabel was dead-on with that point. "So . . ." "Yes," Isabel said, "we're cool. I know it may seem like an overreaction, but I could see how this could mess with her recovery. If it were just about interfering with our relationship, I wouldn't have been so worried. We can survive time apart. I just don't think she could handle any setbacks right now. She's going to be worried sick about you as it is." "I fucked up," Rachel said. "I really fucked up." She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Isabel felt like a bit of an ass. She hadn't meant to come off as so heartless. Rachel was a good person who had made some VERY stupid mistakes, and she needed a friend more than an inquisitor. But Isabel also realized that Torrie would never have asked some of the tougher questions. She would have just coddled Rachel, and Rachel needed a bit of a wake up call. --------- ------------------ The next week . . . --------- ------------------ "Great, me working at 'The Java Hut.' I'm sure my life could sink a LITTLE lower, but I'll really have to try," Rachel muttered. "You could be the girl with the mop who cleans out the video booths in the back at 'Uncle Pete's XXX Emporium.' That would be worse." Frank was trying vainly to make the girl at the other end of Isabel's couch feel a bit better, but didn't seem to be succeeding. Things had been strained between the two of them since Rachel's expulsion from her childhood home. He wondered if she blamed him for his role in what had transpired, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she was justified in doing so. "Hey, at least you're safe. I haven't been home in the last couple of days. I called and my roommates say that Jeremy has been by SEVERAL times." The Hawaiian native was happy he had just graduated and didn't have classes anymore, because Jeremy would have found him and beaten the snot out of him by now. He wished that Jeremy hadn't put off graduating for an extra year. He could have entered the NFL draft and been gone by then. "How did we let it get this far out of control?" Frank sighed. "I don't think we were ever in control. Living out your fantasies is all well and good until someone loses and eye . . . or a family, in this case." They were interrupted as Isabel and Torrie emerged from the bedroom. Isabel, whose couch Rachel had been sleeping on for a while, was dressed in some kind of dress suit that made her look very official. Of course, it was snug on the hips and chest, emphasizing her incredible figure, and her hair was immaculate. Torrie was dressing in skin-tight spandex pants and an equally tight half-shirt and had her make-up done. Rachel was surprised out how much sexier her friend dressed those days. Even Rachel herself wasn't as daring as her previously-somewhat-conservative friend was those days. She assumed that the couple was going out to play some of their "games" that had been put on hold due to Rachel's intrusion. But Torrie also looked a bit nervous. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 03 Torrie was more than nervous . . . she was terrified. She had been informed that she would be performing at the Pretty Kitty strip club's amateur night, and there was no way she would be getting out of it. Isabel had decided that her slave needed to learn to display her body more. She needed to learn to be touched by strangers. Isabel wanted to take Torrie to Dark Eden (the fetish and bondage club run by Mr. X) soon and wanted her pet to be ready. Of course, she hadn't bothered to tell either Frank or Rachel where they were going or what they were doing. She was more than a little annoyed at the setback in the two girls' plans instigated by Rachel's continued presence, but there wasn't much to be done about it at that point. Helping Rachel made Torrie happy, and making Torrie happy was one of the primary goals of Isabel's life. "Don't wait up," Isabel said, a wry smile playing across her lips. ---------- ------------------ At the Pretty Kitty . . . ---------- ------------------ Within an hour, Torrie was sweating like a racehorse. During the amateur competition itself, she had done well, taking second place behind a smoking-hot Hispanic girl with a well-rounded figure including a pretty nice rack. And the girl could dance to, so Torrie's only regret was that she had failed Isabel. She wondered how she would be punished, and thinking about THAT made her feel warm and tingly inside. Afterwards, Isabel had insisted that Torrie give lap dances. A number of the girls from the competition who had impressed the management of the relatively swanky club had been asked to stick around (if they wanted), and Isabel decided what Torrie wanted. And Isabel had informed Torrie that she WOULD dance for any patron that requested her and that she would allow them to fondle her breasts or ass to their heart's desire. Torrie had been blushing when she made her first round through the club. She had been a patron of this facility herself a time or two in the past, so she knew the basics of lap dancing. It turned out that if you wiggled your ass on someone's lap, then the patron was going to be pretty happy. And a number of customers took full advantage of her "hands on" policy. Much to even her own surprise, she found herself excited as she was fondled and groped by all these men (and some women). At one point, Isabel sent a waitress to request Torrie's presence. When Torrie arrived, her mistress had a conniving grin on her face. "Do you see those two young men sitting over there in the corner?" she asked. "I recognize them from school. Very rich, very eligible young men. Handsome too, if you're into guys." Torrie looked over. She agreed that they were handsome, and both were dressed casually in shorts and Hawaiian shirts. "I see them. Do you think it's wise for us to stay here ma'am? Should you be seen here?" "While I appreciate your concern," Isabel said, grabbing Torrie's ass firmly, "I decide what's best," she uttered. Torrie had been wearing nothing but a thong and a smile for hours, and Isabel was getting increasingly excited. Just a few more acts, then she would take the girl home, tie her up and fuck her brains out. "I want you to dance for them. They are . . . nice, and I want you to be EXTRA special to them." Isabel went on to explain what "extra special" meant, then sent the blushing Torrie on her way. "I am going to be in so much trouble if I get caught," Torrie said quietly as she approached the two men. "Would either of you like a table dance?" she asked, trying to sound as brain-dead as possible." "Sure," one of them said. He was a blonde guy with a pretty impressive build. 'At least he isn't some fat plumber,' she thought. She started with a normal dance, but soon things started getting REALLY friendly. She would grab his large, stiff dick through his shorts, rub her ass against it, or press her breasts into his face, freely allowing him to suck or bite on them. His friend was becoming increasingly interested as he saw what a "friendly" girl they had. And the blonde guy's hands were everywhere, pinching and squeezing her feminine parts. He requested several dances as she became increasingly bold with her hand placement. Finally, she got to her knees and made sure there were no bouncers anywhere near by. Much to his surprise, she slid her hand up the leg of the man's shorts and found he wasn't wearing underwear. 'No big surprise,' she thought. 'If I were a guy, I wouldn't wear any if I were here.' She softly grabbed his meat in one hand and began to stroke it under his shorts. It was the first time she had ever touched a man's private part in such a way. But knowing Isabel's plans for her, it wouldn't be the last time. The man looked pleasantly surprised, making no effort to stop her. She began stroking faster and lowered her head to the area where the end of his penis was straining against the fabric. She wrapped her mouth around the head and blew a gust of hot breath through the fabric. She felt him shudder. She picked up the tempo and continued to blow on him through his shorts. By the end of the song, she felt his hard member twitch and pulse, and she felt the front of his shorts grow wet and her hand became covered in his warm, sticky goo. She kept pumping her fist, milking his cock for every drop. The man was actually gasping as Torrie extracted all of his seed. She pulled her hand out, looking at the faint white stains on her hand and wrist. She grabbed a napkin off the table and wiped off her hand. Then she looked at the other young man sitting there. "Would YOU like a lap dance?" she asked coyly. A few songs later and she had another man's cum on her hand, and another satisfied customer. Then she headed back over to Isabel, a few curls of white stuff in her palm. She held it out to prove that she had done as her mistress had asked. "Very good," Isabel crooned, kissing Torrie full on the lips while groping her still bare breast. "Just like a common street walker might have done. But I have another surprise for you." She motioned with her hand and "Salsa" came over, which was the new stage name for the girl who had beaten Torrie in the contest. "You see, you came in second and that means you need to improve. You will dance for this woman, and she will advise you on how you can improve." With the next song, Torrie stood and began to sway, and the sight attracted several onlookers. Salsa looked a little confused, so Torrie slid down her body and whispered, "What all did she tell you?" The Latin lovely smiled. "Only to sit back, make any suggestions I could and to fondle you a lot." She grabbed Torrie's ass and pinched it, making the pink-haired girl gasp. "The things I'll do for money." Apparently Isabel had been a little more specific in her instructions, as Salsa was poking and pulling on some very sensitive areas, driving Torrie insane with desire. She wanted Isabel to take her home and spank her into oblivion. She wanted to be tied to the kitchen table and stuffed like a turkey. She wanted . . . 'Damn it,' she thought, 'Rachel's there. Maybe I could get her to go hang out at my place . . .' TWACK! "Pay attention," Isabel said after noticing that Torrie's mind had drifted and giving her a swift swat on the behind. Torrie ground her crotch against Salsa's midsection as she let a pleasurable blast of hot breath escape her lips. She LOVED the feel of a hard hand against her ass! Salsa noticed the look of pleasure and grabbed the still-tingling area of flesh and grabbed it. Isabel was smiling. If she didn't have plans for Torrie tonight, she'd probably invite this brown-skinned beauty home with them. So instead, she left Salsa her number and an open invitation to call. Then they picked up Torrie's sizeable earnings from the manager and headed for home. ---------- ------------------------------ Back at Isabel's apartment . . . ---------- ------------------------------ Frank had gone and Rachel was asleep on the couch by the time Torrie and Isabel got back. Torrie almost instinctively went to cover her friend up with a blanket, making sure the girl was comfortable. Isabel smiled softly. For a cynic, Torrie could be awfully compassionate. The two of them made their way into the bedroom. Guest aside, Isabel was in desperate need of some release. Torrie knew that her night wasn't over when she was ordered to stuff a towel under the door to "help block the noise." A few minutes later, Torrie was on her back, naked and spread-eagled, tied to the four corners of the bed by her wrists and ankles. Isabel slowly removed her own clothes, then straddled Torrie's stomach for some rough breast play. She tugged on those sensitive nubs until she had stretched them out as far as they would go and Torrie gasped in pleasure and pain. Then she lightly started slapping the pink-haired girl's tit-flesh until both small mounds had turned pinkish on the sides. Torrie was biting her bottom-lip to keep from screaming. This was something new for her, and she was hoping it might become a normal part of their lovemaking. Isabel grabbed the nipples again and pulled on them. "You know, we really need to do something about Rachel's situation. She seems to be holding up all right, but she can't stay her forever. We might not be able to do much about her father, but we can probably do something about Jeremy." She leaned in and gently sucked on Torrie's tortured breasts, one at a time. Torrie was amazed by her mistress's ability to go from rough to soft so quickly. But it was that contrast that helped make Isabel so attractive to her. She found herself thinking forward to all the things that Isabel had said she wanted to do to Torrie, and to have Torrie participate in. They were the things that both scared and excited the young woman. Isabel kissed her way up from Torrie's chest to her neck, ear and finally lips. She took Torrie's bottom lip in her teeth and pulled on it. "You know, I think we should go forward with our plans," she whispered. "We might even be able to use this whole situation to our advantage." She reached back and slid her hand into Torrie's crotch and several fingers found their way into the girl's warm and waiting sex. She alternated for a moment between moving her fingers up and down versus in and out, rubbing Torrie's clit with her thumb. And her lover's body strained underneath her, aching for more of what only Isabel could give her. "Are you still willing to go through with this?" Isabel asked, suddenly nervous that she might be pushing too hard on her girlfriend's limits. Torrie blushed. "Do you want me to?" she asked. "Do you want to see me like that?" "Torrie, I need you to answer me as yourself this time, not as my slave. This is one of those things we won't be able to take back once it's done. And . . . and it's not worth losing you over." As badly as Isabel wanted to "expand" Torrie's horizons, she had become increasingly sensitive to the idea of driving the girl away. Torrie smiled and shook her head. "I can do it. It won't mean anything to me except that it was something you wanted. This . . ." she started looking at her bound hands and feet, "is what I want . . . what I need, and I knew the rules that very first night you took me." Isabel returned the smile and moved forward until she was sitting on Torrie's face. "Then start licking! If you're 'bound' and determined to be a whore, then start acting like it. I need to . . . oh sweetness . . . think of how we're going to do this!" Isabel sat on Torrie's face for two orgasms. Actually, she already knew what she was going to do, but she didn't want to deny her girlfriend the honor of pleasing her mistress. She fingered Torrie to climax and then untied her and the two curled up together. They had a long day ahead of them. ------------ --------------------- The next evening . . . ------------ --------------------- Jeremy was still in a foul mood that he had been suffering from for a week. He had received an earful from his dad about not keeping a closer eye on his sister, and he HATED feeling guilty about it. He was also plotting the extreme pain he intended to put Frank through. What kind of guy goes behind his best friend's back and fucks his sister? "The dead kind," he muttered. And he was worried about his baby sister. Despite everything, he still wanted to protect her and felt as if he had failed her somehow. Then he had gotten an odd call from Isabel of all people, saying that she and Torrie wanted to talk to him about what was going on. He liked Isabel pretty well, but he wasn't sure he wanted to talk to Torrie. He had a semi-secret crush on the girl for a long time, and she might actually be able to talk him out of the mayhem he planned on instigating if she put her mind to it. He parked in the visitor's area and went looking for Isabel's apartment. Isabel was standing outside her door, dressed in a short, black, billowy soft skirt and a low cut white blouse with nothing on underneath either piece of clothing. She wanted to set the right mood from the word "go", and she was under the impression that this outfit would do the trick. She was still a little worried. Torrie had already had a long day. Between her classes and job, she had been on her feet all day. Then Isabel grinned. 'She's not on her feet now,' she thought. But Torrie had insisted she was up to it, so thing progressed as scheduled. Finally she saw Jeremy's head pop over the stairs. "Hello," she said demurely, noticing that she had already caught an appreciative glance. "I was wondering if you'd come." "Anything for a lady," he said, almost instinctively slipping into "lady's man" mode. He just couldn't help himself. Isabel tried not to grin. 'We will have to see if you still think I'm a lady by the time this evening is done.' "First of all," she said, getting down to business, "Rachel isn't here. And no, neither is Frank. I thought we might have a more civilized conversation," she added looking over his tall form. 'Is she checking me out?' he wondered. "Listen, I really don't have time . . ." "Oh, I think you'll make time," she interrupted, her voice stern. "I'm new to this little circle of friends of yours," she added. "Sometimes I feel like an outsider. But I can tell that when you all are angry, Torrie gets distressed. And THAT is something I won't tolerate. I'm responsible for her well-being now, and I intend on keeping her happy." Jeremy was growing increasingly confused. When did this become about Torrie? "I appreciate you're concern, but you ARE new to this group and I think I know what I'm doing." "Do you?" Isabel cocked her head. "Rachel fucked your best friend and that pisses you off. You want to beat up Frank for his involvement. But Rachel was just as involved in it as he was. And how many sisters or daughters have YOU taken to bed? Did you ever care if your conquests might have had someone more regular in their lives and that you were just an attractive diversion? You're mad at them. I suppose that's natural. But are you any better than them?" Jeremy already hated feeling guilty about not protecting his sister the way a brother should, and now he was feeling guilty about his own behavior. His day was going from bad to worse. "No, I don't think you're a bad person," Isabel continued. "You're a young person experiencing life. We all are. Trust me, I've done more than a few wicked things as of late," she added through half-closed eyelids, "as Torrie could attest to." She noticed a stirring in Jeremy's shorts. She had him right where she wanted him. "She and I have developed a very . . . special . . . relationship." She looked directly into Jeremy's eyes. "Do you know what a 'submissive' is?" Jeremy was stunned. This was NOT the conversation he was expecting to have. "I . . . sort of. What does . . ." "Well," Isabel said, "Torrie is MY submissive. That means that she obeys my commands, particularly when it comes to sexual activity. She does whatever I tell her to do, regardless of whether it is something she ever would have done on her own. And she does it whenever or wherever I choose." Jeremy was shaking his head. "Bullshit! Torrie's way too smart and independent to get into shit like that! There's no way!" Isabel smiled. "Really?" She looked at her apartment door. "Why don't you go inside and see for yourself?" Jeremy looked like he had just been smacked between the eyes with a club. His world had just been altered in a big way. Could Torrie actually be capable of being someone's slave? His hand reached for the doorknob and turned it. He opened the door and stepped inside. All the furniture had been moved to the sides of the living room. In the center of the room, naked and on her hands and knees, was Torrie. Her wrists were bound together with leather cuffs, separated by a single link of chain. Her ankles were tied together with some kind of black rope. The rope crisscrossed its way up her calves, thighs, hips, abdomen and chest, then down her arms. It was a fairly intricate pattern, looking much like a spider's web made of nylon. Her legs were pressed tightly together, and the rope was tight enough that it was leaving slight indentations in her skin. Her face was towards the door, and Jeremy could see that she was wearing very pronounced makeup. Torrie never wore makeup! Her head and face were also bound by strands of rope, though these were obviously entirely for decoration and didn't get in the way of her mouth or eyes. And there was a video camera on a tripod nearby, trained on Torrie's body. "What the fuck . . ." Jeremy started. But he stopped as his cock began to swell involuntarily in his pants. He turned around, but Isabel quickly stepped inside and closed the door. "What's your hurry?" she asked. "Don't you like what you see?" "What's going on?!? Why the hell is she tied up?" "Isn't it obvious?" Isabel asked, tracing a finger over his shorts and along his hardening shaft, enjoying the increasingly shocked expressions on his face. "We want to make a bargain with you. You talk to your father on your sister's behalf and promise not to injure Frank, and I will allow you to pleasure yourself with Torrie's body!" Jeremy didn't think things could get any more surreal. He was wrong. "You can't be fuckin' serious, can you?" "I'm VERY serious about 'fucking.' And so is she," Isabel said, motioning towards Torrie with her chin. "Don't tell me you haven't fantasized about this," she cooed. "The opportunity to show your lesbian friend what she's been missing . . . the opportunity to have her on all fours as you pound your big cock into her body . . . cumming inside her." Jeremy was sweating like a pig. He had indeed allowed himself to fantasize about everything that Isabel had just said. Of course, Torrie had never been tied up in his dreams, but the idea had some appeal . . . "Wait a minute," he said, regaining some composure, "you can't do this! She's gay! She would never allow this! She's under your control!" "Yes, I know she is. That's what I was trying to explain earlier. As far as the rest . . . maybe she should explain it. I'll be out on the back porch," Isabel finished, then strolled out to her balcony and slid the glass door closed behind her. Jeremy looked down at the object of so many of his desires for so many years. "Torrie . . . I can't do this. I've wanted you so bad, but not as a pawn in her sick game!" Then he heard something he never would have expected. Torrie was chuckling! "You big goof," she said at last, looking up at him through the rope around her face. "Jeremy, you are a weird guy. You think that I'm really THAT much of a 'pawn'?" Her face softened. "As long as she and I have been together, I knew that our relationship wasn't exactly going to be normal. But we sat down and talked about what each of us was willing to endure. And we made these decisions as a couple. Jeremy, I love her, and she loves me. This is the relationship that both of us chose, not just her." Twenty Years to Life Ch. 03 "But . . . how . . . how can you do this? I thought you were smart." "What does 'smart' have to do with it? Sometimes doctors smoke or physicists jump off bridges with bungee cords tied to their ankles. Sometimes, the reward is worth the risk, even when you understand how weird it is. I understand exactly what she wants of me and I participate in it. Willingly . . . even eagerly. This doesn't mean that I like guys," Torrie continued. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not suddenly in love with you or anything. This is a one-time offer that expires when you walk out that door." She smiled at him and he had to acknowledge that he was more turned on than he had ever been. Torrie continued. "When she and I talked about what we each expected, she told me that she would someday want to see me pleasuring other women and sometimes even men. Emotionally, a man is no more than a vibrator with the capacity to buy me dinner sometime." Jeremy actually allowed a laugh to escape. That was the Torrie that he had known for so long. "Isabel's been planning on having me be 'taken' by a guy for a while. When all this shit hit the fan, she saw an opportunity to go through with a plan that's been in place for a while. Namely, having you be my first real sexual encounter with a man. So we kill three birds with one stone. You finally get something you've wanted for years," she added, wiggling her ass a little, "while you promise to help Rachel reconcile with your dad and promise not to kill Frank. And Isabel and I get to . . . further . . . our relationship." "But . . . why me? You said she'd been planning this for a long time, but all this other shit is new. So why pick me? Doesn't she know how . . . how I've felt about you?" "Of course she does," Torrie said, actually blushing. "But she didn't pick you. She told me she wanted me to be taken by a man, but she let me decide who that man would be. It was ME who picked you." "What? You . . . why?" "Because I'm scared," Torrie admitted. "If I was going to go through with this, I wanted it to be someone I actually trust doing the honors. You know, someone who couldn't possibly go through with it unless he was sure I would be okay with it. You're the only guy I've ever known that I could trust this much. It's the only reason why Isabel trusts you enough. So what do you say? You can either stay mad at your best friend and your sister, or you can fuck me in whatever way Isabel tells you to. And I should inform you that she has quite an imagination." Jeremy was, at heart, a man-whore. He walked over and knocked on the sliding glass door. Isabel poked her head through. "I think we're ready," he said, finally able to smile. "That's good to hear," she purred, looking at the bound woman in the middle of the living room. "Why don't you strip and we can get this little slut's education started." Jeremy quickly removed his clothes, and his thick eight-inches was standing at full mast. Isabel led him until he was in front of Torrie. Then she had him get on his knees as she straddled Torrie's back and had a seat on the girl's hips. Torrie strained under her girlfriend's weight and stared at Jeremy's cock. She had heard him talk about its size, but she still hadn't been prepared for it. It wasn't as long as some of the toys that Isabel had used on her, but it was certainly thicker. She felt Isabel's hand grab Torrie's hair and pulled her head up. "The first thing you need to do is familiarize yourself with the male instrument. Jeremy, please press it against her face." As Jeremy did as asked, Isabel continued. "Notice its heat and its texture. Normally, they won't be quite this large, but once you've learned how to accept it into you, then the rest will seem like child's play. Now open your mouth," she ordered of her slave. "In an 'O' shape, just like we practiced." Torrie did as asked. "Now Jeremy, please push your . . . thing . . . into this little harlot's face. Take your time at first. I want her to get used to it." Jeremy positioned the bulbous head of his prick at the entrance to Torrie's mouth. He looked down and noticed no hesitation in his friend's eyes . . . only heated excitement. He savored the moment of his victory . . . a moment he thought would never happen . . . then pushed his cock into Torrie's mouth. He moved slowly, watching as her lips and mouth spread almost grotesquely wide as they attempted to engulf his manhood. He pushed until half of his member had disappeared. That was when she started to gag and her eyes watered up. But as he started to pull back, Isabel ordered him to stay right where he was. "She needs to become accustomed to the sensation," Isabel said. She reached down and began fingering Torrie's wet snatch with one finger. She just wanted to tease the girl, not provide real release. At least not yet. She stroked Torrie's back with the other hand. "Now my little bitch, you will remember that you are an object . . . a thing to be used. You will keep your mouth in that position. You will apply maximum pressure all the time. You will use your tongue to drag along the underside of his shaft. And he will fuck your face. You aren't giving 'head' or a blowjob, because that's something that his equal might do. Right now, you are just a place for him to deposit his seed. Now Jeremy, please fuck her mouth. And don't you dare hold back, or I'll know and we I WILL put a stop to everything!" Jeremy was more than a little intimidated by Isabel's sudden command of the situation, but not so intimidated that it was going to stop him. He grabbed the sides of Torrie's head and began thrusting his meat into her mouth. He would got until she started to gag, then go a little further. After that, he would repeat the whole process, slowly increasing in speed. Isabel was captivated. She couldn't see Torrie's mouth from where she was sitting, but she could see that massive tool pumping into her lover's face. Isabel kept fingering Torrie's pussy with one hand while the other hand slipped into her blouse to play with her own breast. She was giving Jeremy and eyeful, and he increased his tempo. Every muscle in Torrie's body was straining against her bonds. Her mouth was already grown sore as it was mercilessly invaded by her friend's thick beef-stick. Isabel's fingers were doing a pleasant dance in Torrie's warm sex, making the pink-haired girl want to cum. There was a time she never could have imagined having sex with a man, now she was getting her face fucked by one of her best friends, and she knew that Isabel wasn't going to let it end there. Jeremy felt a tightening in his balls that was arriving all too soon. He had wanted this to last, but Torrie's mouth was too hot and the situation too intoxicating. "I'm gonna blow," he grunted as he plunged into Torrie's mouth a few more times. Isabel stood up and positioned herself behind Jeremy's kneeling form. "Pull out," she ordered. After he did, she shocked him by wrapping her arm around him and taking his cock in her hand. She firmly pumped it several more times before he began to spray. He didn't think he'd ever expended as much jizz as he did at that moment. And Isabel was directing it everywhere, as spurt after spurt landed on Torrie's face and in her still-open mouth. There were trails of white gunk everywhere, dripping off his friend's lips and the ropes that bound her face. "Now lick my hand clean, you whore!" Isabel growled. "But don't swallow any of it. Yet." Torrie gingerly stuck her tongue out, trying to keep the stuff already in her mouth from spilling out. She was only partially successful as a small stream leaked out and town Torrie's chin. But she managed to lick up the droplets that had landed on her mistress's hand. Then Isabel went over and grabbed her digital camera off the counter. She pushed Jeremy away, then took a series of shots of Torrie's cum-covered faced, including the pool of man-juice that had accumulated in the girl's mouth. Torrie was blushing furiously. Isabel had several computer disks containing images of Torrie in various states of bondage, but these would probably actually get printed out and put in a scrapbook. "Okay, now swallow. I want you to get used to the taste of a man." Isabel held her hand against Torrie's throat, waiting until she could actually feel the girl swallow it all down. "Good girl," she said, stroking her lover's face. "You're doing well." She looked over at Jeremy. He appeared exhausted, but Isabel wasn't done with him. There were other things she wanted him to do, but she had to get him erect again first. "It looks like your friend is done. Your naughty little mouth sucked him dry. I'm sure he'll be able to get hard again, but what-EVER will I do with you until then?" She was still glancing at Jeremy when she leaned in and kissed Torrie on the lips, letting her tongue slip into the girl's mouth and taste the remnants of Jeremy's sizeable load. Even with her mouth sore, Torrie would never refuse a kiss from Isabel. She would never refuse ANYTHING from Isabel. Isabel stood back up and went into the bedroom, returning shortly with a bottle of lubricant and a sizeable vibrator. It was about seven inches long and heavily ridged. She applied some lube to the device, sat on Torrie's hips again (facing forward), reached behind her and pushed the vibrating toy into Torrie's pussy, leaving it there for the time being. "It is AWFULLY hot in here," she said, removing her blouse. She caught Jeremy staring at her bountiful bosom out of the corner of her eye. She hadn't planned on getting naked in front of him, but he had been such a good sport and so well behaved that she felt he deserved a treat. With her bare breasts swinging in the air, she reached back and started fucking Torrie with the vibrator. She used her other hand to grab one of the ropes crisscrossing Torrie's back, gripping it for leverage as she plunged her toy into her girlfriend's willing box. "It's kind of like riding bareback isn't it?" she asked of Jeremy as her hips started to "buck in the saddle." She plunged the dildo all the way in and then let go of it so she could slap Torrie's ass as hard as she could. "C'mon. You can do better than that, my little 'bitch' of burden." Torrie began rocking back and forth as much as she could, like an electronic horse out in front of a grocery store after a child stuck their coins in. After another sharp slap, Isabel grabbed the vibrator again and started it in motion. It wasn't long before her faithful steed was shuddering underneath her. "You're cumming aren't you?" she scolded as Torrie's muscles strained against the rope and her back arched. "What a naughty horse you are!" She lifted up with her legs to take some of the pressure of her weight away from Torrie's back. "And all I did was this," she added plunging the vibrator home a few more times, "and you go and make a mess on the rug." True enough, Torrie's juices had trickled down her legs and a few drops had made it onto the carpet. Isabel pushed Torrie around until the girl's head was over the spot her crotch was. She pushed that pink-haired head down until Torrie was sniffing the carpet. "Bad girl," Isabel chastised. She left the vibrator in Torrie's box, then went and got the paddle. "Bad, bad girl!" she said, spanking Torrie hard and swift. Torrie's head was swimming. She had been hoping for a bit of a spanking all evening. "I'm sorry mistress." "Of course you are," Isabel said with a final spank. She knelt behind Torrie's quivering body and placed a kiss between those delicious inner pussy lips. "But you still needed to be punished." She flicked her tongue into her lover's pussy, then looked at Jeremy. Jeremy was already hard as a rock again. He had seen lesbian porn before. He had dreamed of being in a threesome with a couple of girls, but there he was, watching a smoking-hot Isabel lay her tongue into a tied-up-Torrie's juicy snatch. How could he not get hard?!? Isabel reluctantly decided to stop eating Torrie out after only a few minutes. She could take care of that the next day. "Well, it seems your friend has a fast recovery period," she murmured, removing the vibrator. "Jeremy, would you mind coming over here? Good, now on your knees." She grabbed his cock again, moving the head between Torrie's slick inner labia. "Stay," she ordered. She moved around and knelt in front of her girlfriend, lifting Torrie's face. "I want to be staring in her eyes as she experiences her first man. Now go ahead and fuck her!" Jeremy had to savor the moment, but he knew he couldn't take too long. Isabel might just end things. As he slowly entered Torrie, he realized that the wait had been worth it. She was so hot and so tight that it took a conscious effort not to ball her head off right away. He kept going until his balls were pressing against her mound. Isabel watched as Torrie's eyes changed. At first they were nervous, then outright scared. Isabel kissed her, trying to comfort the girl. As much as they had talked about this, Torrie was still unnerved at being taken like this by a man, even one she trusted. But as her box filled to capacity, pleasure swept through her and she kissed Isabel as passionately as she could. "It's so big," she whispered. "It's got me all filled up." "Yes," Isabel replied. "You're being filled by a big, black man-dick. You're taking it all inside your little pussy," she added, licking the side of Torrie's face. She sat down on the ground and spread her legs wide, letting her skirt ride up. "And you can thank me by making me cum." Torrie was more than happy to oblige. She leaned her head down and buried her mouth in Isabel's cleft. Meanwhile, Jeremy had grabbed one of the ropes on Torrie's back like Isabel had done, then started hammering her with his meat. Torrie was grunt, gasping and groaning into Isabel's cunt as she licked up and down its length or sucked on that cute little clit. Jeremy had already decided that Torrie had the tightest pussy he ever fucked. He was grasping a rope for leverage as he gave his friend all he could, filling her tight hole all the way on every stroke. And the view of the pink-haired girl's head between Isabel's delectable thighs wasn't exactly a sight to scoff at. And whatever Torrie was doing with that tongue seemed to be working, because Isabel's eyes had glazed over and she was breathing hard, her sizeable tits expanding outward with every breath. "What's he doing?" Isabel asked of her girlfriend. "Tell me what he's doing to you." "He's fucking me," Torrie grunted. "With what?" "His big black cock!" "And how is he fucking you?" "Good and hard!" "Where?" "In my pussy!" Torrie almost squealed as Jeremy drove his dick home. "In your pussy?" Isabel looked up at Jeremy. "And where hasn't he fucked you yet? Where do you think he should stick his cock next?" Torrie was blushing furiously. "In my ass?" she asked. "Should he fuck me in the ass?" Jeremy was all the way buried in Torrie's box when he heard that, and it took all his willpower to keep from cumming on the spot. He was going to get to ass-fuck Torrie! "I think he should. You need all the experience you can get," Isabel said matter-of-factly. "Very well," she said. "Jeremy, grease your pole up and split this bitch in half!" Jeremy didn't need to be told twice. He had his pecker well greased and poised at the on-ramp to Torrie's dirt highway in record time. And Isabel held her lover's face against her crotch, just in case she needed to muffle any noise as Torrie's backdoor was violated. As Torrie felt her sphincter expand, things went all right at first. Janine has stretched Torrie's butthole with her fingers and she had actually found it to be a pleasant experience. But the pink-haired slave girl quickly found that this was an entirely different beast. Those powerful muscles kept stretching and alarms started going off in her head. Soon, the pain became very real and she almost passed out. But she didn't want to disappoint Isabel. She'd allow herself to be ripped into two pieces before she would let her mistress down. Through the incredible pressure and pain, she continued to lick at Isabel's crotch. She was more constrained than she ever remembered being, and the only thing that kept her from toppling over was Isabel's legs and Jeremy's hands. Jeremy had ropes in both hands as he pressed onward, his mighty tool sinking deep into his friend's behind. When he was all the way inside and every inch of his rod had disappeared into her brown tunnel, he stopped and let out a sigh. He could have died right then and there and considered his life well lived. "How is she?" Isabel asked. "Incredible!" he said. "Did you hear that?" she asked Torrie, who was keeping her tongue and lips moving just to try and forget about the pain. "I think your ass is pleasing to him. You're doing so well." Torrie looked up, real tears in her eyes. "It's too big," she whispered. "I have faith in you," Isabel said, secretly worried that she may have pushed her lover beyond her limits. As Torrie's head drifted down and she started sucking on Isabel's inner labia, the mistress watched Jeremy slowly extract all but the head of his penis from the young woman's ass. He was incredibly gentle at first, trying to let Torrie adjust to this previously unimaginable penetration. Torrie was on the verge of panic. The pain was supposed to go away. That's the way it was supposed to work. But it wasn't going away. She remembered that pain was all part of what she and Isabel did, and that provided some comfort. She attacked Isabel's warm sex with renewed vigor, licking and almost snarling deep into her mistress's depths. She was a caged animal, and she wouldn't give up without a fight. But the pain did start to dissipate, fading into a glorious, mind-blowing pressure exerted on her sphincter. As her asshole relaxed, Jeremy's speed increased. As Jeremy's speed increased, so did the motion of Torrie's tongue. "I think . . . she's . . . getting it!" Isabel gasped as her lover's tongue became a blur between her thighs. She heard Jeremy's balls slapping against Torrie's body as he slammed into her repeatedly. He stopped sometimes to re-grease his shaft, but he never kept Torrie waiting for long. "Tell me," she ordered Torrie. "Tell me how it feels!" "It's so fucking big!" Torrie groaned. "His big black dick is filling my little pink ass!" "Spank her!" Isabel almost shouted. Jeremy slapped one of those firm ass cheeks. He realized that for as long as he had dreamt about this ass, he hadn't spent much time fondling it. So he let his hands feel those taut, firm cheeks, occasionally spanking them as Isabel dictated. Soon they were almost burning hot to the touch, so he gripped them hard and was rewarded by a gasp of pleasure. 'This girl is an absolute freak!' And he thanked whatever gods might be listening for the opportunity he had been granted. He was temporarily distracted as Isabel began to orgasm. She was a jiggler all right, her entire body caught up in the throes of ecstasy. Her breasts were shivering like jello in an earthquake, and her back and neck arched backwards as the orgasm overcame her. And all the while, her dutiful slave kept her tongue moving, drinking her mistress's nectar and making her mistress proud. "Did I please you?" Torrie asked. "More than you can imagine," Isabel said, kissing the girl and tasting her own fluids. She then moved around and began to lightly spank Torrie's tortured ass cheeks with every thrust of Jeremy's hips. She actually got up a good tempo and Jeremy was happy to pound away in rhythm. But he wasn't able to last much longer. In living out his fantasy, he had fucked two of the tightest orifices he had ever encountered. Some of it was probable his mind playing tricks on him, but for the moment he didn't care. "Where did you want this load?" he asked of Isabel. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 04 This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. ------------- ----------------------- The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author's permission. This story takes place in the entirely fictional city of Springfield, California, so don't go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD's, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex. Also, although this story (and subsequent chapters) are placed in the "Novels and Novellas" category, that is primarily because no other single category made any more sense. This overall storyline has some aspects of group sex, interracial sex, lesbian sex, heterosexual sex, anal sex, as well as BDSM sexual activity. If any of these types of activities bother you, you might want to stop reading now. -------------- ------------------------ "So, you haven't been feeling particularly apathetic lately? Have you been taking your medicine regularly?" "No and yes, respectively," Torrie responded. She was having a conversation with her psychiatrist regarding her mental state. It had been five months since she had succumbed to an unusual type of depression that had almost gotten her killed. She had met with Dr. Smythe a number of times, but none as odd as this. Torrie was a sexual submissive, obeying the every whim of her mistress Isabel. Isabel had been a member of a club called Dark Eden, a bondage and fetish club on the outskirts of Springfield, for a few years. She had brought her new slave to the club for the first time a few weeks earlier, which was when Torrie had discovered that the club's owner (Mr. X) was also her psychiatrist (Dr. Smythe). Isabel had known for while, but wanted Mr. X to explain the rules. The two of them were not allowed to play any "reindeer games", as that would be a severe breach of ethics on his part. Torrie was literally one of the only submissives in the club that was completely off limits to official personnel, but she didn't mind. There were other guests, and Isabel wasn't above letting them have a look at her "property." The previous week, Dr. Smythe had been forced to cancel an appointment for personal reasons, so he had asked if they could make it up when Isabel had brought her to the club that night. So while her mistress was out mingling, Torrie was undergoing therapy. Admittedly, it was the first time she had undergone therapy wearing that particular outfit. She was Isabel's "chauffeur" whenever they went to Dark Eden. That meant that Torrie wore tight spandex pants with a fine black zipper that went from the front, through the legs and onto the back. The pants were hip-huggers that barely made it up past her crotch, leaving the sides of her thong and the top of her butt crack exposed. She also had on stiletto-heel knee-high boots and a black, long-sleeved half shirt that left her midriff exposed. Isabel liked her slave's taut abdomen and insisted she show it off. The whole ensemble was topped off with dark lipstick and eye shadow, combined with a chauffeur's hat on top of her pink hair. "What about your home life?" Dr. Smythe was asking. "How are your friends? And I understand you have new living arrangements?" "Yep," Torrie said happily. "I'm living with Isabel now. She got a two-bedroom place, with the second bedroom being . . . well, it's my 'safe' room. Isabel agreed that I could go there if I need some time off from . . . I guess from our relationship." "Have you used it?" "Not really," Torrie said. "Mostly I just go in there to read because it's quiet. She's gotten really good at giving me some space when I need it, so I don't ever have to use the room. It bothers me sometimes . . . I wish her dad wasn't such a prick. They're still not talking and . . . sorry, I guess it isn't appropriate for me to . . ." Dr. Smythe waived off her concern. "You aren't her submissive right now. You're my patient, and you can talk about whatever you want." "I found her crying the other night," Torrie said, leaning forward and putting her face in her hands. "Her father cut her out of his will. And . . . it's weird. As many times as I've been tied up or whatever, that was the first time I felt helpless. I wanted to comfort her, but I couldn't. I . . . I was afraid that maybe I'd become too dependent on her being in control." "Did you talk to her about that? About feeling helpless?" "Not yet. We've sort of been 'on' for the last couple days. And I'm worried. She's been a bit . . . sloppy . . . recently." Dr. Smythe looked her over. He was beginning to understand Isabel's fascination with this girl. She was smart, attractive, but wasn't full of herself. She was honest with him, and not just because he was her shrink. "You might want to take some 'off' time then. Go into your safe room and ask her to go with you. Ask her what you can do to help. Your particular relationship could actually become dangerous if SHE starts feeling helpless. I doubt she would ever intentionally harm you, but she could get carried away. Now tell me about your friend . . . Rachel. How is that going?" Torrie sighed. She explained that after her big fight with her father, Rachel had moved in with Isabel for a while but was now living in Torrie's old apartment over her parent's garage. Things had quieted down though, due in great part to Rachel's older brother Jeremy. Ever since Isabel had given Jeremy a chance to fuck Torrie's brains out in exchange for helping Rachel and NOT killing her boyfriend Frank, he had actually showed considerable restraint and negotiating skills. Rachel and her father had actually reconciled somewhat, though both agreed it would be best if she continued to live on her own. She and Frank were still at odds with each other, and both wanted to take the blame for Rachel's "errant" behavior while still secretly blaming each other. It was a mess. But strangely, Torrie and Jeremy were actually probably better friends than they had been before. He had not-so-secretly been craving a shot at Torrie's lithe body and now that he had gotten it, he was finally able to move on. "How does that make you feel?" Dr. Smythe asked. "Being 'used' like that?" "I don't see it as being 'used' at all," Torrie said. "When she gives me to someone like Jeremy or her friend Janine . . . I mean, it's fun, but no more than masturbation is fun. They're just tools in the game we play. Not that I don't like them as people . . . I actually do, but what really makes me happy is knowing that I did all right by Isabel." "Good. This is definitely not a lifestyle for someone who doesn't have a firm grasp on the rules of the game. You seem to understand what you want, what she wants and as long as you agree to what is expected of you, I think you have a good chance at a long and healthy relationship." Dr. Smythe put his clipboard down. "Torrie, I'm feeling pretty happy about your recovery. So much so in fact that I don't think we need to meet every month anymore. If you feel that you NEED an appointment or if your family or friends indicate a desire for you to return, then we can set something up. But you're getting plenty of exercise, you're taking your medicine and you're apparently quite focused. I would like to see you again in about six months for a quick checkup, but that will probably be the last scheduled meeting. Are you okay with that?" "Absolutely!" Torrie started. "Not that I don't appreciate the help, but I hate to keep asking for my folks to help pay for these sessions." She stood up and stretched out, noticing that the good doctor's eyes drifted across her taut abdomen. She had discovered something about herself that she had never known before her mental breakdown: she enjoyed being a tease. She knew Mr. X couldn't satisfy any "urges" he might have, regardless of whether or not he got Isabel's permission. "I guess I'd better go find Isabel before I get in trouble," she said. "She told me she'd be waiting for you in the Lounge," Mr. X said, standing up and shaking the young woman's hand. He knew she had been giving him a bit of a show, and he didn't mind at all. If it weren't for the rules regarding interaction with patients, he wouldn't have minded ask Isabel for permission to chain this young woman over his desk and fuck her senseless, but he had to maintain professional etiquette. So he sat back down and buzzed his "nurse," to come in. She would "suffer" the brunt of his arousal once Torrie had left. "I'm sure I'll see you around," he said as Torrie walked towards the door with a definite sway in her hips, "but I'll send you a reminder about your next appointment a few weeks in advance." Torrie thanked him and headed downstairs from Mr. X's office and walked down a dark corridor to the lounge. Dark Eden was a seemingly endless maze of such hallways, all leading to rooms where various experiences could be partaken in. Torrie hadn't visited any of them except the Lounge yet. She strolled into through the beaded curtain into a decent sized room with a number of tables, a bar against one side and a round stage in the middle of the room. There was a pole on the stage that reached all the way into the darkness of the ceiling, and there was a series of rings embedded in it. Torrie had actually performed stripteases on that stage a few times already, much to her mistress's glee. She had apparently received several compliments, or so Isabel had told her. Isabel was sitting near the stage and waved Torrie over. She had her slave lay across her lap, stomach down and ass sticking provocatively in the air. Isabel had been chatting with another club member: a man in his late forties who had an attractive blonde woman in her early forties kneeling at his side with a horse-bit in her mouth. "So this is your 'chauffeur'?" the man asked. "Very impressive," he said, drinking in the view of that tight ass sticking up in the air. "Will she be performing tonight?" "Absolutely," Isabel said, proud of any compliments directing towards Torrie. "The slut loves being put on display. Don't you dear?" she added, spanking Torrie hard on her spandex-covered butt and causing the girl to moan through her teeth. "Of course you do," Isabel said, stroking that perfect ass before spanking it again. "Actually, why wait?" She waived to a waitress who came over and Isabel whispered something in her ear. The waitress went over to a dark booth. Then a voice came over the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have some additional entertainment this evening. Ms. Isabel Turner's chauffeur will be dancing for your enjoyment on the center stage." "Don't you dare disappoint me," Isabel said sternly. Secretly she wasn't worried. Her girlfriend and slave had become quite an adept stripper in the last few months. She gave Torrie's buns another squeeze and slap, then sent her up to the stage. Torrie strolled up and got up onto the platform just as the music started to pump through the speakers. She clambered halfway up the pole, then hung upside down just using her legs and started to remove her top. Isabel was licking her lips and noticed that Mr. Terrance, the man she had been conversing with, was doing the same. Bob Terrance was a restaurant entrepreneur who owned a series of mid-priced American restaurants in the area, and Isabel had been trying to convince him to open up one in an empty space in the mall that she managed. She was trying to make it a little more upscale and thought that his business practices would work well with her own. The slave at his feet was his wife Samantha, and they had been in the dom/sub scene for almost fifteen years. "She moves well," Mr. Terrance said as he watched Torrie stripping and gyrating on stage. "How long have you had her?" "Less than a year," Isabel said. "But she serves her purpose quite well," she added proudly. "I see. Her buttocks seem especially firm," he replied. "One might say they were solid enough to . . . oh, say, build a deal on?" Isabel smiled. She knew exactly what Mr. Terrance was proposing. "I should think so," she said. She waited until Torrie was done with her dance and fort the applause to end (which there was a great deal of) to signal Torrie to return to her. As the still-naked woman approached the table, Isabel stood and pushed her slave onto the table with Torrie's back facing downward. "You seem to have impressed Mister Terrance," she cooed. "He asked to see if your 'assets' were as well developed as your dance routine. Now spread your legs." Torrie slowly spread her legs until they formed a wide v-shape. She knew that certain activities took place out at the open in Dark Eden, but this was the first time it had happened to her. She wanted to please her mistress and if that meant pleasing this strange man, then so be it. As several other patrons looked on, Bob Terrance unzipped his pants and sank his rigid six-inches into Torrie's tight box and started to pump away at her pleasantly snug pussy. Isabel traced Torrie's taut abdominal muscles with one finger. That such a smart and cynical girl would descend into depravity at the snap of her fingers gave Isabel a feeling of power, and that power was like a drug. "You know, your slave has been well behaved this evening. I would be willing to help reward her if that might sweeten our deal," she told Mr. Terrance. Bob was smiling. He always liked it when someone brought in a new, fresh sub like the one he was fucking, and greatly appreciated the dom's willingness to use her slave as a bartering chip. And since he had never actually seen his wife pleasured by another woman before . . . "Absolutely. Samantha, stand at attention!" he growled. "Move down there. That's a good girl. Now pull your pants down to your knees. Excellent." His wife was in pretty good shape. She had a look of nervousness as she slowly lowered herself towards the table, bracing herself with her hands as she lowered her plump pussy to the young woman's face. After all those years together, why did her husband choose this woman to be the first semi-lesbian experience for . . . 'Oh God!' she thought as Torrie's tongue went to work in her cunt. 'That feels incredible!' Isabel watched as Mr. Terrance's wife basically sat on Torrie's face while her husband fucked the young woman's pussy. She watched Mr. Terrance pull his slick dick out and place the head against Torrie's sphincter and slowly push his way inside her asshole. Much to Torrie's credit, she didn't even miss a lick. After having her friend Jeremy's thick cock back there, Mr. Terrance's member wasn't all that much of a deal. But Bob Terrance seemed to be enjoying it as he closed his eyes in pleasure as that tight orifice clamped down on his dick. Isabel was getting turned on herself as she watched her girlfriend getting fucked. She reached out and grabbed Torrie's nipples, pinching them hard enough to cause the pink haired slut to groan into Mrs. Terrance's well-ravaged snatch. She pulled harder on the nipples and noticed Torrie's tongue moving more rapidly. "Hurry up you ungrateful little bitch," she said. "How often do you get an opportunity like this? Make them cum!" Torrie was a bit worried that Mrs. Terrance was going to sit all the way back and smother her, but it turned out not to be the case. She was licking and sucking for all she was worth, taking little notice of the prick that was violating her asshole. She wrapped her arms around Mrs. Terrance's legs and started rubbing the woman's mound. She was obviously trying not to make any noise as she was eaten out by the hot young woman on the table, but an occasional whimper escaped. Mr. Terrance made a motion with his head, and Isabel slapped the man's wife sharply across her behind. "This is a treat," he said shortly. "I expect you to appreciate it." Then he buried himself in Torrie's backdoor and emptied his balls, depositing a reasonable amount of seed in her bowels. He couldn't help but admit that seeing his wife getting eaten out was pretty hot. He pulled out and zipped up as his seed leaked out of Torrie's asshole. Isabel stood up and grabbed Torrie's pants from off the chair. She proceeded to dress her slave even as Torrie brought Samantha Terrance to orgasm. The older woman's body shook almost violently as Torrie's rapidly moving tongue licked up her fluids as they dripped from her shivering snatch. 'Bob NEVER got me off that quickly,' she thought. It wasn't as if she was thinking bad thoughts about her husband. Actually, he was a good man and a considerate lover. But this girl had abilities that Bob didn't. "Get dressed," Bob ordered her after she had recovered from her climax. "Don't just stand there like a common street walker," he added. Secretly, he wanted to get his wife home and fuck her brains out. He was pretty sure he'd be able to get it up again by then. He turned to Isabel. "I'll be by your office on say . . . Wednesday? About nine-ish?" "How about nine-thirty?" Isabel countered. "I have to do morning checks until then." "Nine-thirty it is," Mr. Terrance said, leading his wife out the door. "Finish getting dressed," she said, enjoying the idea of Torrie driving her home with a strange man's seed trapped in that wonderful ass. ------------ ----------------- A little while later . . . ------------ ----------------- Torrie opened the front door of the apartment Isabel shared with her with a trembling hand. Isabel had been talking the entire trip home about the great deal she was about to make and how it would really show her (insert random expletive) father that she was just as good of a business manager as he was and that she'd make him rue the day that narrow-minded (insert random expletive) cast out his own daughter. She went into the bedroom to toss her purse aside, then looked around for Torrie. Usually, she had her slave undress her and give her a quick massage before bed, but the pink-haired servant was nowhere to be seen. "Torrie? Torrie, get in here right now!" she barked. There was no response. She wandered back into the living area and noticed that the door to the second bedroom was open and that the light was on. "Torrie?" she said again, but a little less loud. The pink-haired girl was sitting on the daybed in the safe room, her chauffeur's hat cast aside. She looked incredible sexy. She also looked annoyed. "What's the matter?" Isabel asked. Torrie had never used the safe room to avoid Isabel's commands before, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out what she might have done to warrant this. "My appointment went fine, in case you were wondering," Torrie grumbled. "What are you . . . Oh yeah, your appointment with Mr. X. I just figured . . ." For one of the few times in the almost half-year they had been together, Torrie interrupted her mistress. "You didn't 'figure' anything," she said. Then more quietly, "All you've been thinking about recently is how much you hate your dad and how much you want to get back at him. I think . . . it's affecting your judgement a bit." "What do you mean, 'affecting my judgement'? I'm making good business decisions and . . ." "It's not your business decisions I'm worried about. Do you realize that this is the first time you didn't bother to find out how I was doing after an appointment? And did you realize you've actually left some bruises recently?" "No I haven't!" Isabel shouted. Then she saw some feint purple-and-yellow marks around Torrie's calves when she pulled her spandex pants up. She didn't remember seeing those at the club, but they could have been disguised by the low lighting. "So what?" she said. "Bruising is always a possibility. You know that!" Twenty Years to Life Ch. 04 "I got them the night after you heard about what your dad did. You haven't done something like that since we first got together." Torrie bowed her head. She hated to say this next part but realized she needed to. "It was the first time I was actually afraid to be in your power, because you weren't thinking about me when you did it. You were thinking about your father." Isabel was shocked. From the moment she had first taken Torrie as her own in the cooler of the convenience store where her lover had worked, the pink-haired sex-bomb had NEVER shown any reservation about being under Isabel's thumb. "I am always thinking about you," Isabel said, still feeling a bit defensive. "I screwed up! Once! And now all of a sudden, you can't trust me?" Torrie looked her girlfriend right in the eye. "No, I can't. Not as long as what you do isn't about you or me. Not as long as it's about you and your father." "Fine!" said and exasperated Isabel. "Just sleep in here tonight then!" She stormed back into her own room and slammed the door. Torrie felt like shit. She had wanted to tell Isabel how much she wanted to support her through this fight with her dad, but she hadn't been able to get to that part. She was still in love with the woman, but she wasn't sure Isabel loved her back at the moment. She curled up on the daybed and tried to get some sleep. In the next room, Isabel was standing with her back against the door, trying not to cry. 'How could I let this happen?' she thought. 'Is Torrie right? Have I really lost that much control?' She stripped down and crawled under her covers. Like the woman in the room next to her, sleep didn't come easily. ------------- ------------------ The next afternoon . . . ------------- ------------------ Torrie was taking a leisurely walk to the bus stop after her welding class let out. It sucked, seeing as she was the only one of her friends taking a course over the summer, but she was also about four years behind all of them. Of course, she'd be able to get all the certifications she'd need in less than half the time it took them to get a degree, but it meant she didn't get to see them as often as she'd like. When she'd woken up that morning, Isabel had already been gone. There had been some money on the counter and note saying it was for a taxi to get to school, but that had been it. Torrie didn't know how mad her mistress was, but she had her own things to do. She was working the closing shift at Victoria's Secret, which was at the same mall where her pissed-off dominatrix girlfriend was the manager. She got to the mall and slunk in one of the employee entrances. Much to her surprise and delight, her best friend Rachel was standing up at the counter talking to Janine. Janine was one of Isabel's best friends from years ago, and they had recently been reunited due to Isabel's newfound (thought not necessarily appreciated) independence. The two women had even had a night where they shared Torrie's body, much to the delight of all involved. "Hey Torrie," the ebony goddess said happily. "Hey babe," Torrie said, giving her friend a hug. "Since you're early, wanna grab a coffee? My treat!" "Don't you get free coffee at all the Java Hut stores in town?" "Don't go stealin' my thunder, bee-atch!" Rachel laughed. Her sizeable chest jiggled when she laughed, and both Janine and Torrie appreciated the view. "Where's your woman?" Torrie felt the wind taken out of her sales. "She's probably in her office." Rachel knew her friend well enough to know something was wrong. The two of them walked to the food court and Torrie explained the fight she had with Isabel the night before. "Are you two . . ." "Breaking up?" Torrie finished. "No, at least I hope not. I love her Rachel. I don't want to leave her. I'm just going to take some 'safe' time until she calms down a bit." "Believe it or not, I'm glad. She's good people Torrie, and she's been good for you." Torrie was happy with Rachel's response. Rachel had been a bit suspicious of Isabel at first but had warmed to her when she found out that Torrie was a more-than-willing participant in their somewhat odd relationship. "I know," Torrie said. "I wish I could help her with her problems, but I don't know how. I hate not having all the answers." "Hey, you know I'm there for you if you need it. If it hadn't been for your 'intervention,' my life would suck A LOT more than it does," she said, referencing Torrie giving her body to Rachel's brother Jeremy to keep him from killing Rachel and her then-boyfriend Frank. Now, she was living in the apartment in Torrie's old apartment above the pink-haired girl's parent's garage, working, getting ready for her (hopefully) last semester and working at another Java Hut. And things between her and her father were on the mend. "Jeremy was great about that," Torrie said almost absently, then blushed. She probably shouldn't go telling Rachel about how big her brother's dick was. That tended to make conversations awkward. So she switched topics as the two drank their lattes and waited for Torrie's shift to begin. Rachel gave her buddy a hug and headed out for the car. 'Strange,' she thought as she climbed into the car her that father was thankfully letting her borrow. 'I used to think she needed to open up and get crazy sometimes. Now she's getting all the action and I have to go home and go to bed so I can get up and go to work.' She had to admit that Torrie was looking good. Even when she wasn't dressed like a hooker, Torrie was exuding a sexuality that hadn't been there before. It was as if Torrie finally realized how hot she was, and she wasn't going to let anyone else forget it. Rachel was still a little dumfounded that Torrie had been willing to let Jeremy fuck her just to help get Rachel off the hook, but she decided it was best not to think about it too much. --------------- ------------- That evening . . . --------------- ------------- Torrie's feet were hurting by the time she got done with work. She had been unfortunate enough to get stuck trying to find a very overweight woman something that "made her look sexy." All Torrie could think was that it would be easier to gouge her husband's eyes out, but she had been told on her first day of work that such a thing was NOT an acceptable suggestion. She was nervous about going home. She wasn't sure what kind of mood Isabel was going to be in. Torrie walked down the deserted mall to the ATM machine. Luckily, Torrie actually had a decent amount of money in her checking account for the first time in her life. Between her job, the money she made when Isabel took her to strip at topless bars and the fact that she didn't have to pay rent, Torrie was about as financially stable as she had ever been. She reached into her purse to grab her wallet. "Hey good looking," came a voice behind her. Isabel wrapped her arms around Torrie's waist from behind and kissed the girl on her neck. "Where have you been all my life?" "Chained up in a tower somewhere," Torrie said, gasping in spite of herself. "Now that's an enticing mental image," Isabel said. She spun Torrie around by her shoulders and pushed her back against the ATM and kissed her hard. She pushed her tongue into Torrie's mouth as she continued the kiss. Finally, she broke it before both women passed out due to lack of air. "Wait," Torrie mumbled. "Aren't I mad at you? Or is it that you're mad at me?" "I'm not mad at you. Not anymore." Isabel pushed her weight against Torrie, pinning the girl to the ATM. "I was mad at you. I was actually sitting in my office, trying to figure out how I was going to punish you for standing up to me. Then I got it. I wasn't going to do it for sexual satisfaction or for fun. I was going to do it for revenge. Just like I wanted revenge on my dad. Just like you said." She pushed a compliant Torrie's legs apart and lifted the girl's skirt, then looked in Torrie's eyes. "Do you trust me?" she asked quietly. Torrie nodded. Then she watched as the mall manager hiked her own skirt up. She had put on a strap-on harness, and Isabel pulled a dildo out from her bag. "I think I need to show you how sorry I am," Isabel said, clicking the dildo into place. Torrie was looking up and down the mall. Even though the mall was already pretty much abandoned, she knew that security could be by any time. 'But isn't that the fun part?' she thought. "Spread your legs," Isabel said, a smile creeping onto her face. When Torrie complied, Isabel pushed her girlfriend's thong aside and shoved the dildo straight into the girl's pussy. "Wrap your legs around me," she ordered. Torrie did just that, clinging to her mistress as Isabel slowly began to fuck her. Torrie felt her ass pressing against the keypad and almost laughed when she thought of some bank security personnel looking at this tape someday. Isabel's lips met Torrie's again as she fucked the girl hard against the machine. She didn't care about her own pleasure. She just wanted to provide some to her slave. There was a primal urgency to the act as she plunged the toy into Torrie's box over and over again, increasing in tempo and power. Within a few minutes, Torrie was arching her back and gasping as she experienced a pleasant orgasm. She actually came directly on to the ATM machine interface as Isabel slowed her penetrations before stopping all together. She withdrew the toy, unsnapped it and put it back in her bag. "Apology accepted?" she asked nervously. Torrie smiled and took the initiative, kissing Isabel softly on the lips. "Silly question, my mistress." Isabel grinned and just hugged the girl. Then the both adjusted their skirts and headed out to the parking lot. Isabel drove them both home, then led Torrie directly into the safe room. She put her head on her lover's lap and just vented . . . all her concerns and all her frustrations poured out from her mouth. She complained about her father's ignorance and narrow-mindedness and her mother's inability to stand up for her. She complained about feeling that she was in over her head sometime. And then she talked about some of her petty insecurities, from the way she thought the storeowners at the mall viewed her to how she felt she was the "new kid on the block" at Dark Eden. And Torrie just listened until they both fell asleep on the safe room daybed. -------------- -------------- Across town . . . -------------- -------------- Jeremy pulled into the theatre parking lot. He was bored out of his mind, so he'd decided to catch whatever was playing at the two-dollar theatre. He walked up and noticed that there was a showing of "Taking Lives" starting soon. Things used to be so much simpler. He would go cruising, usually with his buddy Frank at his side. He'd pick up some chick's number, swing by her place, fuck her until she had a religious experience while he himself was fantasizing about Torrie, then move on. Sometimes he'd find two women. But things had changed. Even though he was no longer trying to kill Frank for fucking his sister, the two old friends had drifted apart. He didn't fantasize about Torrie anymore, because he lived out that fantasy. He still remembered that moment fondly, but he finally had accepted that she would never REALLY be his. He had lost a bit of his desire to play the field. And with his baby sister working and with he himself having no steady companionship, Jeremy often found himself starved for entertainment. He grabbed his ticket at the front and decided to splurge, heading for the concession counter. There was a cute girl standing behind the counter. She was thin but not emaciated and fiery red hair was poking out from beneath her stocking cap, just over her emerald-green eyes. Her almost impish face was covered in freckles, but the rest of her was covered with a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of drab, olive-green overalls. When she asked if he wanted anything, he could have sworn there was some kind of accent there, but he couldn't place it. Based on her appearance, he would've bet it was Irish. She was wearing a nametag that read, "Dawn." "Sir?" the girl asked quietly. "Can I get you something?" "Sorry," he apologized, instinctively flashing his most seductive smile. "I'm just a little out of it. Could I have a Diet Pepsi and a Jumbo Dog?" The girl smiled and started the soda pouring. She had just an aura of "cuteness" about her that Jeremy found appealing. "Watcha gonna see?" the girl asked. "'Taking Lives.' I like Angelina Jolie," he said, raising his eyebrows rapidly up and down. She giggled. "Don't we all," she said as she put the top on his drink. 'That sounded promising,' he said. 'I may not be wanting to bone Torrie anymore (much), but there's something about a cute woman appreciating another woman . . .' "So, have you seen it?" "Yeah, a couple of times. I'm big into thrillers," she said, averting her gaze. Then she glanced at him almost knowingly. "You play football?" "Yeah," he said, a little impressed. Most girls didn't recognize him in his civies, though he had a pretty good national reputation. "UC Springfield." "Shit, you're Jeremy Borash?" she said. "You kicked ASS against Iowa last year!" Then she looked a little sheepish. "Sorry. I used to hate football. Then I started hanging with my friend Vic when I was going to school on the East Coast . . . he played high school ball out here apparently . . . well, he got me hooked on the game, so I started watching all the college games when I moved out here." "He played out here? What was his name?" "Vic Peterson." Jeremy's eyes widened? "Vic Peterson? Shit, I was his backup until he graduated at Springfield High School!" "You're shitting me?!?" Dawn said, then looked around and lowered her voice. Jeremy could tell that she wasn't used to drawing much attention to herself. "I'll have to tell Vic next time I call him." "What's he up to?" Jeremy asked. "I heard there was some weird stuff going on and he almost got kicked off the team, then he didn't enter the draft." Dawn looked nervous again. "I . . . Yeah, he almost got kicked off. Turned out that some guys on the team didn't want a quarterback who might be staring at their asses." Jeremy was almost shocked. "You're shitting me? Vic? Gay?" "Well, bisexual actually. But he's been dating another friend of mine for a couple of years now and they're pretty happy together. But it caused a whole lotta shit to hit the fan when he was playing." Jeremy rolled his eyes. "It's total bullshit. I don't care what he does with his dick," he said, "as long as he does his job on the field. Vic was a class player all the way." Dawn was looking Jeremy over, apparently pleased. Just from talking to this man for a few minutes, she realized he reminded her a lot of Vic. The two of them started chatting away until the movie was ready to begin. She let him have his drink and hotdog for free, but he insisted on taking her out for dinner sometime that week. She normally wasn't as open with people as she had been with Jeremy, so it had been a LONG time since she had gone out with anyone. So she accepted. Jeremy went inside feeling strangely elated. He wasn't going on a fuck-outing. He was going on an actual date. --------------- ------------ The next day . . . --------------- ------------ When Torrie awoke, the sun was pouring in through the window and she felt a gentle hand stroking her hair. Isabel was cradling the Torrie's head in her lap. "I thought you'd sleep forever," she said softly. "What time is it?" Torrie asked, trying to move only to have Isabel hold her in place. "You've still got an hour and a half until class, and I called the office and told them I was running a bit late." "Are you . . . okay?" "No," Isabel said, "but at least now I've accepted that I'm not okay. I'm mad at my parents. At least now that I've admitted it, I know I won't take it out on you," she said with a kiss. "You did the right thing, standing up to me when you did. I'm sorry things got so bad." "They weren't that bad," Torrie countered, "but I realized that they were getting worse. I love you, and I needed to say something before you did something we'd both regret." "Could you BE any more perfect for me?" Isabel asked. "I think we deserve a night out on the town." She turned Torrie over onto her stomach and spanked her ass through her clothes. "Wear something naughty underneath all this today," she ordered. "I want you to be ready to go as soon as your work is over." "Hey," Torrie said, "we're in the safe room, remember? You can't do anything in here without my permission." She stood up, pulled down her skirt and exposed her taut ass. Then she bent over and put her hands on the bed. "May I have another?" she asked wickedly. --------------- --------------- That evening . . . --------------- --------------- Torrie was dressed to the nines as she locked the gate outside the store. She had on one of her shorter black mini-skirts with a tiny g-string underneath. She had gone without a bra underneath her snug, sleeveless silk shirt. Janine was still hanging around, chatting away. Apparently, Isabel had called her and invited her to accompany them on her night out. Torrie had been smiling all evening at the idea. The last time Janine had been involved in an outing with Torrie and Isabel, Torrie had been tied up, spanked and then fucked silly. 'Good times,' the pink-haired girl thought. As they were waiting for Isabel to finish up in her office (the mall manager had decided to work all afternoon just so she could take a little time off the next day), Torrie saw Rachel wandering down the mall. "Hey!" Torrie said, giving her friend a quick hug. "What'cha doing here?" "I got a call from the local Java Hut manager. They needed someone to fill the evening shift, and I was available. I got some good overtime. I was gonna come visit but we got slammed all evening." "If I'd known you were here, I could have swung by. We were dead starting at seven," Torrie said. "Hey, you remember Janine, right?" she asked, bringing her coworker over. The three of them chatted for a bit until Isabel put in an appearance. Torrie's mistress had changed out of her work clothes and into her party clothes. It was one of those short-skirted, low-slung-top outfits that had captured Torrie's imagination over seven months earlier. Her black hair was falling wildly around her shoulders and her green eyes were sparkling. And she was carrying her "bag of goodies." "Man, you girls are all looking good! What's the plan?" Rachel asked. "Torrie did a good thing yesterday, so tonight she's being rewarded," Isabel said, kissing her submissive while grabbing her ass under her skirt. She didn't care who was around to watch. Rachel let out an involuntary gasp. Torrie had tried to explain this whole thing to her, but she hadn't ever seen it in action before. Isabel had a death-grip on Torrie's half-exposed ass while cutting off her air supply with a long and forceful kiss. Isabel noticed the gasp, but she also noticed that Rachel actually seemed to be breathing a bit harder than usual. 'Hmm, fascinating,' she thought. "I'm taking this whore to one of her favorite clubs," Isabel said, grabbing Torrie by the back of her hair. "You're welcome to come along," she said, looking at Rachel. "You can see just what a freaky little slut your friend really is." Rachel was torn for a moment. On one hand, she wasn't sure if she was ready to see this side of her friend's life. On the other hand, she was tired of NOT totally getting it. She knew what Isabel, Janine and Torrie had done together, but she just couldn't picture Torrie like that. Rachel decided that she hated being the only one in Torrie's life who didn't get it. "Sure. Sounds like fun. Where we goin'?" Twenty Years to Life Ch. 04 -------- ---------------- An hour later . . . -------- ---------------- The girls had swung by Rachel's apartment and let her change into some more comfortable clothes, then showed up at the Pretty Kitty strip club where Torrie had made her debut as a stripper. Rachel was amazed at the number of dances that Isabel bought for her slave, and each dancer was apparently told ahead of time to "keep it rough." Girl after girl pinched, prodded and poked at Torrie's body in full view of everyone. Torrie had been told to keep her hands to herself. She was to be fondled, not to do any fondling herself. With every moment Rachel was confirming the idea she had been toying around with for a while . . . Torrie was a VERY sexual being. That didn't make her less intelligent . . . quite the contrary, it made her actions more erotic. Torrie knew EXACTLY what she wanted, and Rachel envied that clarity. Isabel got up and went over to talk to another dancer who she had seen earlier. It appeared as if they knew each other. Isabel sent the girl over to where Torrie was obediently sitting, then Isabel fished out her cell phone and went to make a phone call. "Hello sexy," the girl said, straddling Torrie's lap as she sat down facing the girl. "Hello Salsa," Torrie said smiling. When she had first been taken to this club on amateur night, Salsa had been the winner. Since then, she had been working there. Torrie held no ill will towards the Latin hottie for beating her. Quite the contrary, she admired the woman's . . . skills. Salsa put a finger on Torrie's lips. "Your woman told me that you weren't to speak," she said, then grabbed one of Torrie's tits through her blouse and squeezed it. She, Isabel and Torrie had played this game before. But from what Isabel said, the game was going to a whole new level later on. "So shut your pretty mouth and let me dance," she finished, standing up and beginning her routine. Rachel found herself licking her lips a bit. She recognized "sexy" when she saw it, and there were two sexy women pressed together right in front of her. Janine was busy getting a dance from another girl, so all Rachel could do is watch her best friend get treated to a very intimate table dance. This Salsa chick was pulling on Torrie's hair, pinching her nipples through her shirt, and reaching her hand under Torrie's skirt and rubbing her mound through her soaked panties. Rachel had never watched two girls together and was finding herself strangely aroused by the view. Isabel came back. "I just booked us a 'specialty' room at Dark Eden. We should be there in about an hour. You should be pleased, you fucking slut," she told Torrie as Salsa ground against her body. "You're going up on the block." Rachel had no idea what that meant, but she couldn't deny that she was curious. "What are you talking about?" she asked. Isabel glanced over the attractive young black woman. She could clearly see the beginning of sweat decorating her expansive cleavage and a certain hunger in her eye. Isabel wondered if she could make one of Torrie's fantasies come true that very night . . . a fantasy that only she and Torrie knew about. She knew she had to try. "I can't tell you," Isabel crooned. "I could only show you." Torrie heard this, even through the pulsing music and around Salsa's red-hot body. Torrie wasn't sure if she wanted Rachel to see what was in store for her. But while her mind was unsure, her body had no reservations. Her heart was beating, her pussy was moistening and her breath was escaping in ragged gasps. Salsa's hand was rubbing quick small circles over Torrie's panties, pushing them into the cleft as she went. Her body blocked any views the bouncers might have, but a couple of other customers got an eyeful as Salsa made Torrie cum, right there in the club. Torrie's quiet climax wasn't lost on Isabel. "You dirty slut," she whispered. "Cumming in public? Right in front of your mistress, your friends and a bunch of strangers? You're a nasty little girl," she added. Then she looked over at Rachel. "So, do you REALLY want to see what this is all about. She watched as the dark-skinned girl nodded. "Torrie," she said, pulling her keys out, "pull the car around. Janine, would you mind giving the other girls a ride? Just follow me. I've taken care of everything." ------------ ----------------- A little while later . . . ------------ ----------------- "I appreciate you looking over my comrade," Isabel said as she dropped off Rachel at Mr. X's office. Like Torrie, Rachel had been surprised to see that the club's owner and Torrie's psychiatrist were one and the same. "Not a problem," Mr. X said soothingly. "I was wondering how long it would take before you and your charge started . . . experimenting . . . in such a way. There are number of high-stakes rollers ready to make their bids," he said. Isabel flushed with pride. "And having two . . . assistants . . . is alright? Even though they're not members?" "As long as they keep their activities confined to you and YOUR slave, everything will be fine. Now hurry along. You have a crowd waiting." As Isabel disappeared down the stairs, Mr. X escorted Rachel to one of two large, comfortable leather chairs in front of a wall of televisions. He reached for his remote and turned on several of the sets. All Rachel saw was a bare room with a pair of stocks in the center, much like she had seen witches and prisoners don in old movies. The stocks were even made of solid-looking wood, with the holes for the neck and wrists about waist height on a normal person. "So what is this all about?" she asked nervously. "This is the Auction Block. Isabel, as the dominatrix, is putting her slave up for auction. The winner of the auction will be allowed to used right there in that room after bidding is over, abiding by whatever rules Isabel sets forth of course." "Will the . . . will the other . . . bidders . . . be allowed to watch?" Rachel asked. "Of course! If Isabel likes, there might even be a second round of bidding after the first winner is finished." Rachel was captivated, even though nothing had happened yet. "How . . ." "How does it work?" Mr. X finished, smiling all the while. As Rachel stared at the screen, he stared at her chest. He loved a well-endowed woman. "Isabel will start by displaying Torrie's wares and capabilities." "What the hell does that mean?" "In layman's terms, Isabel is going to spank, fuck, and generally abuse Torrie for the delight of the crowd. She asked for permission to have her two other friends assist in said actions. During Torrie's humiliation, Isabel will start taking bids. The winning bid gets to 'join in,' so to speak. Sometimes the winning bidder offers the auctioneer his or her own slave to use in the meantime. But regardless, half the money goes to charity, the other half to the club. Slaves can be offered up no more than once a month. The biggest money maker over the course of the year gets free membership for the following year for both the slave and his or her master or mistress." Mr. X sank back into his own chair, wishing he could make a bid. "So you're not involved in this?" Rachel asked. "I can't be. Torrie is a patient of mine, and it would be highly unethical for me to interact with her in a sexual manner. By the way, I think Torrie is lucky to have a friend like you," he added smoothly. "She speaks of you highly and often. She attributes a great deal of her successful recovery to your support." Rachel felt very pleased about that. "She's my best friend. How can I not help? I mean, we were there for each other through so much shit . . . I was the first person she came out to when she was admitting she was gay." Rachel stopped. "Isn't it weird?" she asked, looking at her host. "Torrie IS gay, isn't she? So why does she like making love with guys now?" "She doesn't, or at least not in the traditional sense. A man to her isn't really a sex partner. Instead, he is a sexual tool, much like any number of sex toys. They provide her pleasure when wielded by her mistress. Torrie has a keen mind. She has made a clear divide in her mind between what sex is and what love is. I truly believe that she loves Isabel. Anything else or anyone else who gets involved is just there for physical gratification." "There they are!" Rachel exclaimed, pointing at the screen. Torrie had been escorted into the room, completely naked. Isabel was wearing a tight, hot-pink tube top, a pink thong and strap-on harness, pink fishnet stocks and pink high-heels. Both Janine and Salsa were dressed in similar outfits that were black in color. Isabel grabbed Torrie by the hair and held her in front of the camera, making her turn slowly. "The bidding takes place remotely by people in other rooms in the complex," Mr. X explained. "Torrie will have no idea who won her until that person comes to claim her." In the room, Salsa and Janine had both been chomping at the bit to get a taste of Torrie, and Isabel basically turned them loose on the helpless girl once she was locked in the stocks. With Torrie being bent at a ninety-degree angle at the waist and her head and hands being held at hip level, both Salsa and Janine forced their crotches into the captive's face, one at a time. It was obvious that it was an uncomfortable angle to try and perform her oral skills from, but Torrie was made to do it anyway. Isabel had strapped a dildo into place on her harness and positioned herself behind Torrie, plunging the seven-inch toy into Torrie's snatch quickly and mercilessly. As she started fucking her slave vigorously, she began raising her hand and bringing it town on Torrie's ass cheeks with resounding "thwacks." Even on the color monitor, the pink-ness of the skin on Torrie's behind was quite evident. Janine moved away from the front of the stock while Salsa bent over at the waits and back up to Torrie's waiting mouth. Torrie was licking and nibbling much faster, with Salsa's new position being much more amenable to her being eaten out. Janine knelt next to Torrie's chest, reaching her head under and sucking on the girl's tits and pinching those sensitive nipples with her teeth. Mr. X wandered over to his desk and looked at his computer monitor for a moment, a smile playing across his face. "She's getting some impressive bids," he told Rachel. "An attractive, fit, healthy young woman who can take some punishment generally gets peoples' attention." Rachel was mesmerized. Suddenly, her own activities seemed tame. She watched Torrie slowly . . . agonizingly slowly . . . bring Salsa to orgasm with her tongue while Isabel spanked and fucked her captive. Rachel saw the pink tinge around Torrie's nipples as Janine twisted them and tugged on them. And she definitely noticed that Torrie wasn't struggling. Rachel began to feel very warm, to the point that perspiration was gathering on her cleavage. Mr. X noticed the young woman's arousal, and he felt a stirring in his own slacks. According to Torrie, Rachel had a taste for well-endowed white men and for nasty sex. Mr. X could provide her with both, and intended to do just that. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked somewhat coyly, making no effort to hide the huge bulge in his pants. Rachel looked over to answer but her eyes were caught by the tent in his slacks. She tore her eyes away, albeit reluctantly. "I'm . . . it's just a little bit much to take in," she said. "I've heard that before," he responded smugly, shifting his weight in the chair and causing his dick to shift positions under the cloth until it was pointing right at her. "Well, I'd better check on the bidding," he added, standing up and walking over to his desk. "Impressive," he said. "The high bid was quite substantial. The winner should be showing up as soon as his credit clears." Mr. X hit a button on his desk and spoke into the intercom. "Nurse, could you come in here please?" He looked up from the desk. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked of his guest. "Water, please." "Nurse, bring a water and an iced tea. And your pillow," he finished, then sat back down next to Rachel. "Things are about to pick up." ----------- ------------------ Down in the room . . . ----------- ------------------ Isabel continued to fuck Torrie with her strap-on as the bidding finished up. After successfully bringing Salsa to climax, the stripper and Janine switched places. Janine removed her underwear and backed her ass up to Torrie's face and felt that wonderful tongue slide into her box. "Isabel, could you get her to do a thorough licking?" Janine asked. Isabel spanked her girlfriend hard on the right butt cheek. "Get in deep, you useless whore. Get her asshole." Torrie immediately began rimming Janine's brown eye, teasing it until she was told to lick the girl's pussy some more. Salsa was mercilessly tugging on Torrie's nipples the entire time. The pink-haired slave's breasts had become incredibly sensitive and were fluctuating between "tingling" and "aching." It made Torrie want to come so bad! Her ass felt much the same way under the constant stream of blows it had received. She felt her own juices dripping down her legs as her mistress hammered her to orgasm just as the door to the room opening and the winner of the auction walked in. There were two men who entered the room, both dress in "business casual" attire. The both appeared to be in their thirties and seemed to be in pretty good shape. One of them wandered over to talk to Isabel, who had reluctantly pulled her dildo out of Torrie's greedy pussy. He was about six foot two and appeared to be no stranger to physical labor (or at the very least the gym). "Nice to meet you," she said cordially. "Pleasure meeting you. My name is Peter Hyde. That is one HOT slave," he added, licking his lips. "I would offer you my own, but she wasn't feeling well. This is a business associate of mine who was thinking of getting into the lifestyle. First, I assure you he has taken all the necessary blood tests and is free of any communicable diseases." "I appreciate that," Isabel said. Members of Dark Eden were required to regularly update their medical history to minimize the chances of STD's being transferred at the club, so she appreciated Peter taking the extra precaution with his guest. "This is Tom Billings." Peter added, motioning his friend to join them. Tom could barely take his eyes off the attractive, bound woman in the middle of the room. He was an ass-man at heart, and the pink-haired girl had a perfect, firm little behind. "I'll be doing most of the work," Peter said. "I wouldn't feel comfortable letting him practice on someone else's slave." "I appreciate that," Isabel said. "Well, she's all yours. My only rules are try to avoid bruising or cutting . . . obviously . . . and no blows to the face, no matter how light." "Understandable," Peter said. He watched as Isabel's hourglass figure walked away, wishing his girlfriend and slave had been feeling better. The thought of her being used by Isabel was almost as appealing as getting to use Torrie himself. He walked over to a wall that had a number of toys on it and grabbed a leather-adorned cricket paddle. "Now Tom, the first thing to keep in mind is that slaves are valuable, so you need to learn how to swing so that you don't break anything." Peter pulled his arm back and leveled a clean shot at Torrie's behind, hitting her with the flat of the paddle and sending a loud "thwack" reverberating through the air. Torrie's ass stung like never before. Isabel tended to use smaller paddles or her hand when spanking, so the force and size of this man's swat was new to her. Her ass felt like it was on fire, and she waited anxiously for the next blow. She looked over towards where Isabel was sitting. There was a couch against the far wall where the master or mistress of the "sold" slave could watch and possibly entertain him or herself during the proceedings. Isabel had leaned back against the arm and was enjoying the oral attentions of both Janine and Salsa. The two women were taking turns pushing Isabel's harness out of the way and licking her pussy. Torrie felt a momentary pang of jealousy. She wasn't jealous that Isabel was being pleased. Torrie just wanted to be there as well, pleasing her mistress. Then she felt a second shot against her tender backside, and the delicious mix of pain and pleasure returned. Peter took several more swipes at Torrie, then handed the paddle to Tom. "Don't 'swing' so much as let the paddle fall," he said. He stood back and watched his friend lower the boom. Torrie gasped just a bit. "That was good but a little too hard," Peter said. "Try one without putting your arm into it. Again, just let it fall." Tom tried again, and this time the slave just bit her bottom lip. 'She's really into this!' Peter thought. He took the paddle back and lay several more "smacks" of his own. And he could tell that the young woman was into it! Across the room, Isabel was enjoying a full-out oral assault by Salsa, who in turn was getting eaten out by Janine. Isabel was so proud of Torrie! Of course she realized that Torrie was almost addicted to getting spanked, so what was happening to her constituted more of an award than a punishment, but she had still taken some pretty stiff swings. It was more than a bit arousing. She positioned Salsa on the sofa and had Janine stand over the girl and push Janine's crotch into Salsa's face. As Salsa began to send her talented tongue repeatedly in Janine's box, Isabel knelt on the floor, pushed the head of the dildo into the stripper's cunt and went to town. Isabel hadn't actually fucked anyone besides Torrie in a long time, but she needed to vent some excess energy. Salsa's cunt was gripping at the sex toy like a vice, and Isabel was enjoying forcing her dildo home. She reached forward and grabbed Salsa's tits and squeezed them as she fucked the girl. Salsa was thoroughly enjoying her evening. She hadn't been expecting to be involved in something like this, but it had been a blast so far. She had her own hands latched onto Janine's ass cheeks as she spread her tongue wide and licked at Janine's juicy box. She buried her mouth in the girl's opening, giving her tongue as much penetration as possible. Janine was just holding on for dear life. Like Salsa, she hadn't been expecting anything quite so . . . naughty . . . as what she was participating in. Janine hadn't felt that alive since her first time with Isabel. While she didn't harbor a crush or a grudge against her friend, she was glad they got to enjoy each other again. When they had tag-teamed Torrie that one time back at Isabel's old apartment, the two women hadn't touched each other but rather had concentrated on Isabel's slave. Tonight, Janine was going to get herself a piece of the mistress. Meanwhile, Torrie was about to reach a milestone in her sexual career. Peter had reddened her behind like never before and after one last hit, she actually began to orgasm. It was the first time she had ever been spanked to climax! She felt her pussy twitch and she felt the familiar trickle of her own juices on the inside of her legs. She maintained her posture, resisting the desire to let her legs buckle as pleasure ran through her. Peter watched the slave climax with a little bit of awe. He had NEVER gotten his girlfriend, or any previous girlfriends, to experience the "little death" by spanking alone. The time for paddling was over, and he positioned himself in front of her face, unzipping his fly and letting his seven-inch rod spring forward. "Open your fucking mouth," he growled, waiting for Torrie's lips to part in that perfect "O" shape. She was looking right in his eyes when she obeyed him, but quickly glanced over towards Isabel. Her mistress was humping away at Salsa, but she had turned her head when Peter had issued his command. Isabel shot her slave an approving look and a nod of her head, so Torrie turned her gaze back to her temporary captor. He plunged his rod into her mouth and down her throat, waiting until she gagged and then holding himself in place until she began to tear up. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 04 "Oh, that's nice," he muttered. "Go ahead Tom," he said to his friend, "do whatever you want. You have to keep in mind that the slave is there for you to use. When borrowing another person's slave, just obey the ground rules. Tom was only half-paying attention to his buddy. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go THIS far or just find a chick that was interested in bondage, but he also wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to tap this fine piece of ass. He unbuttoned his jeans and quickly sank his own seven-inch stick into the girl's pussy. "That's fuckin' tight!" he grunted. "You gotta try this." Peter grinned. He had every intention of trying that end, but for the moment he was satisfied with Torrie's throat and lips. "Apply some pressure bitch," he told the girl, and he waited until her lips made more direct contact with his shaft and he felt some actual suction. "That's a good slut," he added as he continued fucking her face. This was Torrie's first time with two guys, and she hoped she didn't inadvertently bite something. She also felt a little weird about being used as an instructional device, but she would do what Isabel wanted, and that was to do what this "Peter" guy wanted. But she had to admit that it was a little bit of a turn on to get drilled from both ends like this. ---------- ------------------- Up in the office . . . ---------- ------------------- Rachel was caught between staring at the screen and staring at her host. The screen was enticing because it showed her best friend in a position that Rachel wanted to be in, namely getting fucked from both ends by two hot studs. And she realized something . . . something she had never thought of before. 'Torrie's kind of sexy,' she thought. She had accepted recently that her friend was a genuinely sexual being, but this was different. Rachel found herself . . . turned on by Torrie. 'What the hell is going on?' she mumbled internally. Then she glanced over at Mr. X, who was sipping on his iced tea and getting a foot rub from an attractive woman in her thirties wearing a low-cut, high-rise nurse's uniform. And that cock . . . that enormous cock was still straining against his slacks. "Impressive," he said, noticing his guest staring. "She's quite the vixen." "Aren't you . . . not supposed to be watching?" Rachel asked, her eyes darting between the man and the screen. "It would probably be considered a bit unethical, but as long as no one tells, I'll probably be all right. I have a policy of always watching the proceedings to make sure things don't get out of hand. I could get scolded for watching, but I could get sued out my ass if someone got seriously hurt." Mr. X was tired of waiting. "You don't seem to mind watching either. Your best friend is getting fucked senseless by strangers, and you seem to be quite aroused." Rachel was going to deny it, but what was the point? A blind man could see she was turned on. "It's just so . . . animalistic," she said, her gaze falling again on his crotch. Mr. X stood up, telling his nurse to stay where she was. He walked over next to Rachel's chair. "I don't think it's healthy to repress your feelings he said. Without any further adieu, he unzipped his own pants and let it all hang out. Rachel wasn't sure which shocked her more, the audacity of his action or the size of his equipment. It was even bigger than Charlie's had been. If she had to guess, she would say it was a good twelve inches of man-meat, crowned with a beautiful mushroom head. "What . . ." "You've been staring at it all night. Don't try and tell me you haven't been wondering about it," he said, waving his wang just inches from her face. He was encouraged that she didn't shy away. "I was under the impression that sex wasn't exactly something that bothered you." "Of course it isn't," she replied, following the movement of his cock like a cobra following the snake-charmer's flute. "All you have to do is ask for it," he told her, "and tell me you'll do anything to get it." Rachel knew she should back down. She had gotten a glimpse of this man's world already. But she was SO horny and his dick was so beautiful. "I . . . I need to know . . ." She took a deep breath. "Are you married?" Mr. X thought the question was strange until he remembered that, according to Torrie, Rachel's family problems had stemmed from her sexual involvement with a married man. "Yes, I'm married," he said. He looked at his nurse. "Hold up your hand Laura," he told her. The woman held up her hand and showed Rachel her diamond ring. "Now tell Rachel that it's okay for her to give in." "It's okay for you to give in," Laura said. "That's your wife?!?" Rachel said. "Of course. As much time as I spend here, I like having her around," Mr. X said, amused at her guest's surprise. "Now, are you going to play the game, or shall I put it away?" he asked, reaching for his zipper. "NO!" she shouted. "I . . . I want it," Rachel said. Then she looked up into Mr. X's eyes. "And I'll do anything to get it." Mr. X didn't waste any more time. He stepped forward and pushed his cock between Rachel's lips and into her throat. "Nurse, get the handcuffs out of my desk." His nurse/wife hurried to the desk and got the cuffs. Mr. X grabbed Rachel and pushed her to her knees on the ground. He sat down in the chair, grabbed her head and brought it back to his cock, using her head like he might use his fist when masturbating. He instructed his nurse to secure Rachel's hands behind her back. Rachel's mouth had never been so stretched. Mr. X's cock was huge, and she couldn't get enough of it. He wasn't being exactly gently, but Rachel didn't exactly mind. She was pressing her legs together, trying to exert enough pressure on her mound to afford her some relief. As her host's foot-long beef stick violated her mouth, she heard him ordering his nurse to undress Rachel. Rachel heard a "snipping" noise. The nurse was actually CUTTING her clothes off! Soon, she was naked and handcuffed with a mouthful of cock. She drug her tongue along the skin of his member as he shoved it in and out of her craw, hoping to entice some of his man-candy to spurt into her mouth. But Mr. X wasn't going to let her have what she craved . . . at least, not yet. He had been admiring her tits all evening, so he pushed her onto her back with her arms still trapped behind her. He straddled her waist and put his massive rod between her massive melons. As he pushed those wonderful, warm globes together around his flesh, he realized it was a perfect fit. He thrust his hips, causing his cock to erupt from her cleavage and smack her in the bottom of her chin. Her ordered her to tilt her head and open her mouth so that he could enter it on the upstrokes. She was more than happy to oblige. Her tits were heavy and the pressure they exerted on his meat was delightful. He looked over at his wife, looking quite delectable in her uniform. She was obviously aroused and wanted a piece of her husband or her husband's conquest. But she would have to wait her turn. He needed to finish up with Rachel. Then he had other plans for the dark-skinned beauty. He stopped fucking her tits long enough to pull her nipples out from the breast by almost an inch. That got a brief squeal of pain (and a little of pleasure) from the girl, and it made Mr. X smile. Then he pumped her breasts for another few minutes. --------------- ------------------------ Down in the auction room . . . --------------- ------------------------ Torrie's lips were getting sore from the almost constant pounding. Peter and Tom had switched positions several times, pulling out before they came and taking breathers as they went. They wanted to prolong this experience. Then Peter, who was in front of her, stopped fucking her face and stepped back. He was smiling and seemed to be waiting for something. Suddenly, the dick that had been in her pussy not-so-slowly pushed its way into her asshole, and she almost let out a scream. He settled all the way in and then waited while his balls were resting against her opening. Once she had apparently adjusted enough so that she wasn't going to bite anything, Peter shoved his beef-stick back down her throat. There were actually some tears leaking out of her eyes from the various torments asserted against her and her eye shadow was running. Her face was flushed, her ass was still as red as a fire hydrant, and the sound of gagging still emanated from her throat. She was, in the world of submissives, a beautiful specimen. Over on the couch, Isabel had both Salsa and Janine bent over the back of the sofa. She had been fucking one of them while fingering the other. She had already made Salsa cum and at the moment she was working on Janine. Janine and Salsa were leaning over and kissing quite a bit as the dark haired mistress had her way with them. Isabel hoped that something might develop between the two, but she would worry more about that later. There was sex to be had. She stuck both her thumbs into Janine's perky posterior and pulled on the entrance to her backdoor. Janine gasped. Isabel wasn't sure if it was a sensitive spot or just coincidence, but the brown-haired girl started to have the mother of all climaxes. She was shaking like train-tracks as Amtrak ran over them, and the back of the leather couch was soon dripping with her cum. "Well, that takes care of that," Isabel said casually. She strolled around to the front of the couch and sat down, unhooking her harness and spreading her legs. "Now who wants to thank me first?" she asked. Janine and Salsa were both grinning as they knelt before Isabel and started fighting for a slice of her pie like two dogs trying to eat from the same dish. But quickly, they began to cooperate, each taking a section of her pussy and attacking it with their tongues. Salsa was rubbing Isabel's clit with the wide section of her tongue while Janine was peppering the lower part of the slot. They had Isabel squirming in no time. Even through the mind-blowing pleasure, Isabel kept her eyes on Torrie. The pink-haired slave had been more physically "used" than ever before, and she was showing she could take it. Peter was burying most of his rod in the girl's throat while his friend sodomized her. Tom was fucking her up the ass so hard and so fast that her feet occasionally left the floor, and the sound of his balls slapping against her could be heard throughout the room and, thanks to the intercom, throughout the club. To Isabel, it was a beautiful sight, though she realized Torrie would need a few days off after that night. Isabel had come to the conclusion that she needed to give her girlfriend more time to process some of the things that happened to her so she could physically and psychologically cope. And Isabel wanted to spend some time with Torrie as opposed to Isabel's slave. "Umph," she moaned as Salsa's tongue tickled her asshole. "Naughty girl," she added, holding Salsa's head in place. This was a quite pleasing experience for her. And when Janine started sucking on Isabel's clit, the dark-haired mistress had taken as much as she could. Janine and Salsa were both licking up her copious quantity of girl-cum as quickly as they could. As Isabel was enjoying sexual release, so was Peter. He pulled his cock out, aimed it at Torrie's face and let the spray fly. Pulse after pulse of his cock sent streams of hot, white goo splattering onto the girl's face until it was covered. Torrie felt the sticky stuff all over her countenance and felt it dripping off her cheeks, nose and eyebrows. Isabel saw this also and quickly got up from the couch. She hurried over to her back of tricks and pulled out her digital camera. She strode over to Torrie and got a close-up picture of her cum-drenched face. "Beautiful," she muttered as Torrie blushed. Then she noticed that Tom had quickened his pace even more, signaling the onset that last bit of desperation leading to climax. She whispered something in his ear. He smiled, pulled out of Torrie's asshole and spurt onto the girl's glowing-red buns. And he had a lot of baby batter to go around! Even Isabel was impressed by the quantity of it. Torrie's butt cheeks were so heavily iced they almost resembled cinnamon rolls, and a thick stream was dribbling down Torrie's ass cracks. Once Tom backed finished and backed away, Isabel snapped another couple of pictures. "I think I found my Christmas card photo," she said. 'At least, the ones I'll send to non-family,' she mentally added. She ran her finger in a swirl through the cum decorating her lover's ass, then took one sticky finger and rammed it into Torrie's sore sphincter and felt those muscles squeeze. Even after all she had taken, Isabel's slave was ready for more. ----------------- ---------- Up in the office . . . ----------------- ---------- Rachel was grunting and groaning like a bitch in heat. She was bent over Mr. X's desk with his nurse sitting on her back. Meanwhile, Mr. X himself was laying his twelve-inch pipe down her pussy with incredible power. Her swollen cunt was stretch to the utmost as it tried to accommodate his monster. He was grabbed her full, round ass cheeks and squeezing them as he pounded away at her helpless body. Mr. X was tempted to split this little black slut's ass in half, but he didn't want to ruin her. Just the feeling of her velvet tunneling compressing his shaft was heavenly enough, so he fucked away. He liked the way it looked . . . his wife dressed in her tight uniform astride Rachel's dark skinned back. He suddenly had an idea of what to get her for an anniversary present. He filed that bit of information away as he fucked Rachel long and hard. He began fingering her asshole, and the response was favorable. He loved little girls like this . . . so eager to take anything in any orifice you wanted . . . so eager to please . . . so eager to cum. Rachel began to do just that, shaking like a leaf and climaxing on his desk. Taking that as his cue, Mr. X finally allowed himself to cum as well, filling the girl's pie-hole with his fresh cream. He blasted a load so big that it was beginning to drip out of her worn snatch. He pulled out, tucked himself in and casually walked around to the front of the desk. He grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and wrote something down. "Nurse, take this bitch down to the auction room and give this to Ms. Isabel as soon as the winners of the auction have left. I'll turn off the video cameras. Make sure Isabel is aware of this." Mr. X's wife got off Rachel's back and helped the girl stand up. Rachel was still woozy and reeling from the fucking she had just received, but still was nervous about what was going to happen next. She had agreed to do whatever Mr. X asked, so why was he sending her down to the auction room? ---------------- ------------------------ Down in the auction room . . . ---------------- ------------------------ Isabel pulled Peter and Tom aside and thanked them for their participation and their bid. Both men were smiling and said the pleasure was all theirs. Peter even asked if Torrie was going to be put up for auction next month. Isabel gave him a coy smile and said, "Maybe." Then they left and Isabel wandered over to the monitor that was connected to the club's main computer. Much to many people's disappointment, there would be no further "play time" with Torrie that evening. Isabel was surprised when the door that led to the stairs and to Mr. X's office opened and the nurse came in, leading a naked and dazed-looking Rachel. Janine and Salsa were both wide-eyed as the nurse led Rachel to a slightly less confused Isabel and handed the girl a note. The nurse took a last longing glance at Rachel's curvaceous body before returning to her master's office. "It would seem," started Isabel with a smile, "that the club's owner has shown our lovely Rachel a VERY good time, and he has given her to . . . well, to me for the remainder of the evening." Torrie was shocked. Her best friend of many years was standing in front of her, completely naked. When Torrie had first outed herself to Rachel, she had secretly hoped that there might be some bisexual tendencies buried somewhere in the girl, but nothing had surfaced. While she hadn't held the kind of crush for Rachel that Jeremy had held for Torrie, the pink-haired girl had sometimes wondered just how good Rachel would be in the sack. "So Rachel," Isabel cooed, wandering around behind the girl and admiring her body, "what did he do to you? Where did he fuck you?" she asked, reaching around Rachel's body and feeling those large, sweat-covered breasts. Then she pinched the girl's nipples. "Tell me . . . tell her," she added, directing Rachel's gaze towards Torrie. "He fucked my mouth and my pussy," Rachel replied, enjoying Isabel's touch. 'God, I'm getting turned on by another woman,' she thought. 'Just like I was turned on by looking at Torrie earlier. Kind of like the way she's looking at me now.' And for the first time, Rachel wondered if Torrie might actually want to fuck her best friend. "Where did he cum?" Isabel asked. "My pussy." "Don't you feel dirty . . . walking around with his stuff in you?" Isabel signaled Janine and Salsa to come over. "Grab her arms," she said. Her two guests grabbed Rachel's arms while Isabel bent the girl in half. Then she had her cohorts push Rachel back until her crotch was right in front of Torrie's stunned face. "Lick her clean," Isabel told her slave. She knew that Torrie had a sweet spot for her best friend that had been dormant during Torrie's psychological problems. Torrie wanted to do it, but she began to understand Jeremy's hesitation when he had been offered something he had always wanted. Torrie had to know . . . "Rachel," she whispered hoarsely, glancing nervously over that beautiful round ass at her mistress. Rachel didn't wait for another word. She bit her bottom lip and shoved her hips backwards, impaling cunt on Torrie's face. She had gone too far to back out. Torrie began licking like a woman possessed. While Rachel's outer labia were dark, her insides were perfectly pink. She wasn't sure if she was getting any of Mr. X's cum out of her best friend's pussy, and she actually didn't care. She reached down into herself and summoned up her second wind as she tried to give Rachel the best head she had ever received. Rachel may have had her brains fucked out by Mr. X, but Torrie's oral skills had every neuron up and firing again. Another woman was eating her pussy, and it was indeed the best she had ever gotten. Isabel wandered over and picked up her dildo, snapping it back on to the harness. Then she walked back to Rachel, grabbed the girl's head, and shoved the plastic toy into Rachel's mouth. She looked down at Torrie, but her slave was completely overcome with lust and was concentrating on Rachel's sweet box. Rachel looked confused for a moment, but quickly gave in and began sucking on Isabel's cock. Rachel lost track of how long she was held like that, but it didn't take long before Torrie's incredible tongue had her cumming. And it felt perfect! And Torrie didn't stop like guys tended to do. She lapped up as much of Rachel's juices as she could. Isabel's heart was going a mile a minute. She hadn't really imagined this would happen, but she was glad it did. She pulled her dildo out of Rachel's mouth and removed the harness. "Well, she cleaned the cum out of you," Isabel said. "Notice all that stuff on her face? It's time to return the favor." She told Salsa and Janine to let go. Rachel looked at her friend. Torrie had the cum of two men and several woman stuck to her face. She got on her knees and looked at her friend. They both smiled and blushed. Rachel stuck her tongue out and licked Torrie's face. It was such an odd concoction for her. She determined she didn't much like the taste, but she loved the act of tasting. She started licking all the residual mixture up. Without a warning, she found herself kissing her best friend. It was a heated and passionate exchange. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 04 Isabel looked on with love. "Stand up," she told Rachel. She walked the girl around to Torrie's back end. Torrie strained her neck but couldn't see what was going on behind her do to the stocks. Her neck and wrists were incredibly sore, but she didn't want to be let go . . . at least not yet. "You know what you need to do," Isabel whispered into Rachel's ear. Rachel was suddenly terrified. This was the biggest step of her sexual life. But even if her brain was confused, her body knew what to do. It knelt behind Torrie's helpless body and positioned Rachel's mouth at the entrance to Torrie's paradise. And ever so slowly, she extended her tongue into her friend's sweetness. Then she ran her tongue up the slot. 'This isn't so bad,' she thought. 'Actually . . .' She licked Torrie like she was an ice cream cone, and she actually felt her shudder. Isabel slowly walked back towards Torrie's head, tracing the girl's spine until she reached the stocks. Then she knelt in front of her lover's face, watching her expressions change as Rachel's pie-eating-cherry was busted. Torrie had gone glassy-eyed, but not so much that she didn't see the incredible woman who had made all this possible. Rachel may have licking pussy for the first time, but it still felt heavenly! Isabel moved in until her lips almost touched Torrie's, but held back just a little. Not waiting for permission from her mistress, Torrie strained to try and get the kiss she so desperately wanted. Isabel smiled and held back just a little while longer. She moved in, but dodged her head to the right and whispered into Torrie's ear. "I love you," Isabel said. And she meant it. Her girlfriend was secured in stocks, had been sexually manhandled for well over an hour and was getting eaten out by her best friend, but her eyes still gleamed a little brighter when they were focused on Isabel. And when Torrie started to respond, Isabel finally kissed her. The kiss could have lasted for seconds or days . . . neither woman could have said. They only broke because of the moaning coming off from the side. When Janine and Salsa realized that Rachel no longer needed to be held, they had broken off and locked themselves in a sixty-nine, and they had just brought each other to orgasm. Both of them were covered in sweat, their hair and makeup were a mess, and they both looked incredibly happy to be alive. Isabel grinned. She turned back and locked lips with Torrie again, just in time for the pink-haired girl to moan into her mouth. She was having an orgasm. Rachel had never seen a female climax up close and personal before. She had experienced many of them, but hadn't really seen one. It wasn't quite as . . . obvious . . . as she thought it would be. A little bit of trembling, but that was it. Just for the heck of it, she stuck a finger in and felt the power of Torrie's box as it constricted. Rachel was more than a bit impressed that her buddy still had it in her after all she had endured that evening. Isabel kissed her beautiful slave/girlfriend one more time, then stood up and unlocked the stocks. Torrie needed help from her girlfriend and best friend just to remain standing. Every part of her body was sore and her ass still stung like a son of a bitch. Mr. X's nurse brought down a couple of soft, terrycloth robes for Rachel (whose clothes had been destroyed) and Torrie (whose tender rear-end made wearing her normal tight pants quite out of the question), along with "compliments from the owner" for a wonderful show and a successful auction. The nurse glanced longingly at Rachel's generous tits again, then wandered back up the stairs. The group was silent but content as they made their way out to their cars. Rachel was going to catch a ride home with Salsa and Janine, and Isabel was going to take Torrie home for some much-needed rest. Before they went their separate ways for the night, Torrie and Rachel faced off. Torrie was still struggling to stand on her own, so Rachel reached out and grabbed her friend's shoulders, supporting her like they had done for each other for years. Rachel was a bit freaked out by everything that had happened, but she knew . . . she knew that Torrie was still her best friend. She and Torrie exchanged a powerful hug. "Take care," Torrie said. "You too. See you tomorrow?" Rachel asked. She knew that the two of them had some things to discuss. "I'll be done with class by nine," Torrie said, "and I don't have to work. Come on by," she finished, then Isabel escorted the exhausted girl back to the car. ------------- --------------------- At Isabel's apartment . . . ------------- --------------------- Isabel was a nervous wreck. There were already bruises forming around Torrie's neck and wrists, as well as on her buttocks and upper thighs. She realized that it had been Torrie's first time in that kind of situation, and Isabel had let things get out of control. She was putting ice in a compress, getting a bottle of Aleve and a glass of water, and trying about a billion different things to make Torrie comfortable. Her girlfriend was lying face-first on the bed because rolling onto her back was quite painful to the girl. "Calm down," Torrie said as she amusedly watched Isabel run around like a chicken with its head cut off. "I'm okay," she muttered. Isabel was going to say something about Torrie speaking to her mistress out of turn, but she nixed the idea. She had been planning on giving the girl the rest of the week off from her "duties" anyway. "I didn't think it would be this bad," she said, looking at the purple marks developing everywhere on Torrie's body. "God, I suck at this," she muttered. She felt like such a horrible dominatrix. She let her charge take more than she should have tried to handle, left her in the stocks too long, and now Isabel was breaking down like a common . . . like a peasant girl. "No, you don't," Torrie reassured her, breaking again from her role as slave. "We're just working our way through it for the first time, that's all." "Maybe. But I should've been more careful. And you should've stopped me when things got too much!" Torrie grinned. "Too much? I was ready for a second auction! I had more and better orgasms than ever before," she said honestly. "And I owe it all to you. Were you in on it? With Rachel I mean?" Isabel shrugged. "I might have mentioned it to Mr. X at some point, but I left it up to him as to actually making it happen. I was pretty surprised he managed it so quickly!" Torrie looked at her girlfriend with bemused eyes. "I'm a little surprised," she said. "That you'd let it happen with Rachel. I mean, she actually means something to me." Isabel smiled. "Wondering if I was jealous? I'm ALWAYS jealous when I let someone else touch you. That's MY part of the torture. But you told me once that you'd always come back to me. I believed you then and I believe you now. Tonight was about your fantasy. Call it arrogance," she said, kissing Torrie on the cheek, "but I think its going to take more than Rachel to take you away from me. She's your friend. I'd like to think I'm a little more than that." "And you said that you sucked at this," Torrie said happily. She let Isabel feed her a painkiller or three and sipped some water. Then she felt the cold compress being applied to the back of her neck and a cool washcloth being draped over her red posterior. "You're everything to me," she said as Isabel cuddled up next to her. -------------- -------------- The next day . . . -------------- -------------- Torrie was lying face-first on the daybed in the safe room while in excruciating agony when Rachel dropped by the next afternoon. She couldn't work up the energy to answer the door, so she just yelled for whomever it was that was knocking to come in. "Hey toots," Rachel said when she found Torrie's carcass. "Hey," Torrie said, straining to move her head. Her neck hurt, her wrists hurt, her ass was killing her, her shoulders hurt, and her upper thighs felt like they were made of brick. "I'd get up, but I think that would actually kill me. I actually had to skip class today." "Don't worry about it," Rachel said, laughing nervously. "Is that enough small talk?" Torrie asked. "What do you mean." "I mean, should we exchange our typical banter for a while, or do you want to just get to the part where we talk about last night?" Torrie smiled. She didn't have the energy for conversational foreplay. "Am I that obvious?" Rachel asked, pulling up a chair. She grimaced a bit when she saw the bruising on her friend's neck and wrists. Somehow Torrie had managed to squeeze into some incredibly loose fitting shorts, so Rachel could only imagine what that shapely rear-end looked like. "No, I just figured that since I was nervous about it that you would be too. I sort of get tired of this question after a while, but are you okay?" Rachel sighed. "Physically, yeah. Spiritually, I'm a little fucked up. Torrie . . . I never thought that would happen. I never imagined being with another chick like that. I never thought . . . Shit, just when I thought I had all my weird impulses under control, I'm getting banged by a club owner while his wife was sitting on my back, then I'm having sex with my best friend, who happens to be a girl." "It was kind of a slow night, wasn't it?" Torrie said. THAT got a laugh out of Rachel. "Wait, his wife?" "Yeah, the nurse." "That's his WIFE?" Torrie was honestly shocked. "You didn't know?" "Not really, but that explains why she's around so much," Torrie muttered. "But anyway, I want you know that I'm cool with it. Strangely enough, I'm actually even MORE in love with Isabel because of it." Torrie actually blushed. "When I first realized I was gay . . . it was because I realized that I was attracted . . . to you." Rachel's eyes shot open. "Get out of here!" "That would be physically impossible. But it's true. Once I accept that I was gay and that you weren't . . . apparently, at least that you weren't COMPLETELY . . . I moved on. It wasn't until I was going through therapy that it came up again. Not with Mr. X . . . I mean Dr. Smythe . . . but with Isabel. We talked about all our fantasies, past and present, and about all the naughty things we had done. So she knew that once upon a time, I had wanted to do what we wound up doing last night." "But like I said, I'd never even thought of doin' it with a chick until last night. Then . . . I don't know. It just didn't seem like such a big deal." Rachel leaned back. "Rachel, you are one of the hottest, most sexually active girls I know. It's okay just to fuck for fun, as long as you understand it for what it is and are honest about it. The sex doesn't make you gay. It's the feelings you have about the person that determine that. And for me, Isabel trusted that my feelings for her were strong enough to let me be with you. That showed REAL power." Rachel looked amused. "Torrie, I'm NOT worried about being gay. I still LOVE the cock," she said, making Torrie giggle. "But I did notice my own bad self checkin' out some honeys on the way over here and wondering if they was HALF as good as you. I'll have to deal with that shit on my own. The only thing that I'm concerned with is you and me. I don't want to feel weird around you and I don't want you to feel weird around me. I . . . for the first time in my life, I've got NO idea what to do after sex." "You could try what I do." "Which is?" "Just lie around and wait for things to stop hurting." "That's not what I meant." Torrie grinned. "I know. Rachel, being with you did mean more to me than being with most of the people that Isabel has 'shared' me with." Even though Rachel knew about what had happened with Jeremy, Torrie thought it prudent not to bring up his name. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to go all mushy-brained about it. I won't say that the idea of . . . you know, being together . . . with you . . . doesn't have some appeal, but only for fun and only if Isabel wanted it. I love her Rachel. I really do. This doesn't change that. The question is, can you still be my friend?" "Without a doubt," Rachel said, a bit relieved. "You're my girl," Rachel said. "Word," Torrie responded. "Girl, stop trying to talk like a black chick," Rachel said exasperatedly as she shook her head. "I'm black and blue," Torrie pointed out. "Does that count?" "Not even close," Rachel said. "So, when is the old ball and chain coming back?" "Isabel's working until about six, then she's going to rent a couple of movies and try and move me out where I can see the television. She's giving me the rest of the week off, so I'm hoping to be up for a visit to the beach by Friday. We'll see how my body is holding up by then. Anyway, you're welcome to stick around," she added. Rachel looked over her friend. She had only had to work for four hours that morning, so she was free the rest of the day. "Sure, I'll stick around." "Excellent," Torrie replied, pulling the washcloth out from under her shorts. "Then could you make yourself useful and re-wet this?" Rachel laughed as she grabbed the cloth by the corners. "Girl, THAT is just nasty." -------------- ---------- That Friday . . . -------------- ---------- Jeremy pulled up to Dawn's apartment feeling pretty good about himself. He'd had a good week, and the day had started out pretty well already. He had hung out with a number of top-shelf honeys that morning at the beach, including Torrie, Isabel, Janine, Jessie (whose "stage" name was apparently Salsa), as well as his sister. Rachel had been acting kind of weird. Jeremy just figured she was freaked out because she knew he had engaged in "sexual relations" with her best friend. "Oh well," he said to himself. "She'll have to get over it." He knocked on the apartment door. Dawn must not have been making much money because her complex was . . . a bit dilapidated. But when she opened the door, her surroundings didn't seem important. She still had on those drab overalls, but there was a tight green shirt on underneath that accentuated her taut physique. And that stocking cap was there again, but it couldn't hide those delightful freckles, brilliant red hair or sparkling green eyes. "Hey," she said quietly. "I talked with Vic, by the way. I told him about meeting you. He asked if you had figured out how to prevent the ball from smacking you in the face on the snap . . . I'm sure there's a story there." Jeremy grinned. "I was running the line back in high school during scrimmage. I'd been shit-talking all day. Then on one snap, a couple pretty cheerleaders walked by and I was staring at them, but I forgot to slow the snap count. I got nailed in the face, and the coach made me run a couple laps to 'help me concentrate.' Vic NEVER let me forget it." Dawn let out a small giggle. Jeremy couldn't put his finger on it, but he just found the girl adorable. She looked up at him. "He's coming out next month for his brother's birthday. Jack's coming with them. Jack's is Vic's boyfriend, by the way. Anyhow, they'll be crashing out here," she said, looking towards her apartment. "He . . . he and his parents don't talk anymore." Jeremy didn't need to ask why. "I've been hearing that a lot lately. My friend Torrie . . . she's a lesbian . . . her girlfriend just got disowned after telling her parents about . . . well, you know." Dawn shook her head. "Let's go get dinner before I lose my appetite." Jeremy took Dawn to his favorite Italian place. It had low lights and usually set the mood for activities afterward, though Jeremy was trying hard not to think about it. He wanted this date to be different. They started talking about the safe things. Jeremy talked about his football career so far and his studies. He found out that Dawn was a year older than he was and was a graduate student in psychology. She had planned on staying on the east coast at the university where she and Vic had met while doing some charity work one Christmas, but her advisor told her that it looked better on your resume when you get your undergraduate and graduate degrees from different institutions. So she had gotten the University of California at Springfield to waive out of state tuition costs and had skipped across the country. As she talked, Jeremy sized the girl up. While she seemed oddly comfortable with Jeremy, she got quiet and looked downward whenever another customer or one of the staff wandered by. He mentioned that to her. "Sorry, I'm . . . I'm not real good with most people. The only reason I can talk to you is 'cause you remind me a lot of Vic and Jack . . . not that I think you're gay or anything . . . just, that kind of confident but good natured thing." "I'm glad to hear it. I'm not always QUITE so good-natured. Up until recently, I was wanting to kill my best friend." Dawn scrunched her eyebrows. "Do tell?!?" Jeremy grinned and then launched into the entire series of events he and his friends had endured in the last six months or so. At first, he wasn't quite sure why. He had barely met this girl. Then he realized that he NEEDED to talk about it. Torrie had Isabel, Rachel (until recently) had counted on Frank, but Jeremy hadn't really had someone he could vent to. And Dawn proved to be a patient listener as he talked about Torrie's illness and recovery, his sister's fall from grace, and he even talked about the "deal" he had made with Torrie and Isabel to help Rachel out. "God, you must think I'm a total creep," he said at last, breaking a brief silence. "No . . . no I don't," she said, looking at him thoughtfully. He had been a lot more honest with her than she was used to in men, and that very thing had appeal for her. "It sounds like you were this Torrie chick's friend, and the shit with your sister and that Frank guy was just you being a big brother. The other stuff with Torrie . . . well hell, if I had a cute girl tied up like that, then I might . . ." Dawn stopped and her eyes opened a bit wider. "Uhm . . ." Jeremy was staring at her. "Wait, are you . . . do you play offense or defense?" he asked. Dawn was blushing furiously, and her skin was almost as red as her hair. "Uhm, actually I play both sides of the ball." "Oh . . . really?" he asked with a bit of an exaggerated pseudo-southern drawl. Actually, he had suspected as much after their first conversation. "C'mon, spill! Which do you prefer?" Dawn buried her face in her napkin so no one could see how bad she was blushing. She finally started to talk, and Jeremy was amazed by what she said. Apparently, she had not only been romantically involved with Vic AND his boyfriend Jack, but there had been another girl by the name of Angela mixed up in the whole thing. From what Jeremy could gather, the entire group had been one big, roaming orgy. "I . . . I'm not always like that," Dawn said, a bit embarrassed by her confession. "It's just . . . like I said, I'm not good with people so I don't make friends easily. Everyone there was just so . . . decent and honest with me and each other that I felt comfortable just letting loose with them. We all did." She sighed and used her fork to play with her spaghetti. "I think that's why it's been so hard for me out here. I've kind of been afraid that the next person won't be so . . . easy to trust." Jeremy grabbed her hand. "Well, why don't we see what I can do about that?" "You so sweet!" she said, smiling as she pinched his cheek, and that got them both laughing. --------- ------------------- A few hours later . . . --------- ------------------- Dawn had to admit that she had been having a great time with Jeremy. He was handsome, funny, and surprisingly forthright. But except for the time at the restaurant where he had held her hand, he hadn't made a move all night! When she had been on the East Coast, her friends had made her feel attractive for probably the first time in her life. After a long dry spell, she thought maybe they had been right, particularly when she had a guy like Jeremy asking her out. But had he just been looking for a "friend?" Twenty Years to Life Ch. 05 This is a LONG story. If you don't like long stories or stories driven by plot and characters rather than just sex, you might want to skip this one. -------- ---------------- Disclaimer: The following story is a work of (hopefully) erotic fiction. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, please stop reading now. Any resemblance between the characters and any actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy or redistribute this story without the author's permission. This story takes place in the fictional city of Springfield, California. It is also the fifth part in an ongoing series. -------------- ------------------------ "Dawn . . . oh shit, we're gonna be late!" Jeremy wasn't really that worried about it. It was Torrie's birthday, and a bunch of people were getting together for dinner and for a beach party in the girl's honor. Jeremy didn't mind showing up a BIT late for dinner, seeing as his thick, eight-inch cock was buried up to the hilt in his girlfriend's mouth. As soon as he had gotten to Dawn's apartment to pick her up, the small redheaded girl had pulled him inside, dropped his shorts and started sucking his cock. He wasn't too surprised by this sort of behavior anymore. While shy around most people, she was a veritable sex-machine around people she trusted. The two of them had been officially dating for a few weeks, and tonight was going to be the first night she had met all his friends. That made her nervous, and something that made her feel better was a warm cock (or sometimes pussy) in her mouth. Jeremy didn't object. Dawn's tiny-looking mouth was stretched out like a doughnut as it ensnared his sizeable black cock. No one had ever managed to deepthroat Jeremy until this small firecracker of a woman came along, and her oral skills continued to amaze him, as did her appetite. "Okay, it's your turn," he growled. He slowly pulled his dick from between her lips, then pulled her to her feet. He unhooked those overalls that she ALWAYS wore, and let them slide down to her hips. He pushed them past her hips to find she was wearing nothing underneath the denim garment. "You were planning on gettin' some later, weren't you?" Dawn blushed a little, making her skin glow under her beautiful freckles. She had gone so long without getting hot sex that she seemed to want it every chance she could those days. Jeremy spun her around and had her put her hands on the wall, then sank into her tight snatch with a long, smooth stroke. And he started to drill her hard, pounding into her and feeling his balls slap up into her body. It was easier to make her cum from this position, and she loved her sex a little wild. "You're so thick," she muttered, digging her fingers into the cheap plaster of the wall. "Harder! Harder!" He was going as fast and as hard as he could, so he responded by reaching around and grabbing her sensitive pink nipples. He played with them for about a minute as he filled her with meat, then he ran one hand down to her pussy to play with her throbbing clit. After a few more minutes of this, he stopped playing with her tits and wrapped his powerful arm around her waist and pulled her upright, fucking straight up into her body like she was just his fuck-doll. Her feet were dangling, not even touching the floor. "Oh God!" she cried, arching her neck until her head touched his chest. Her body froze up and all her muscles tightened. She even bent her knees until she could hook her feet around the back of his legs. And if Jeremy thought she was tight before, that was NOTHING compared to the pressure her cunt could exert when she was coming onto his shaft and heavy balls. Jeremy found it hard to believe that he had found someone like this working the concession stand at a cheap movie theatre. While shy around most people, Dawn had warmed to him quickly and that "warmth" had quickly escalated to "hot." And Dawn liked to give blowjobs, get fucked silly and she LOVED to cum. He pulled the girl off his dick and set her back on the ground. No sooner than her feet felt earth beneath them, Dawn spun around, bent over and took his meat-pole all the way down her throat again. She cupped his balls, rolling them gently across her palm with one hand while gripping his ass with the other. She let his cock slide out, then agonizingly slowly swallowed it again. Jeremy still couldn't figure out where it all went, but his massive member continued to disappear from view time and time again. At one point, when his cock was only halfway in, he started to groan. Dawn knew what that meant, and withdrew until only the head was in her mouth. She felt the veins of his dick pulse and pump his jizz onto her waiting tongue. And Jeremy always gave her mouthful, which made her happy. She swirled his heavy load around in her mouth as the last squirt trickled in before finally swallowing it down. "NOW are you ready to go?" Jeremy asked with a grin. ----------- ---------------- At the restaurant . . . ----------- ---------------- "So you're this mystery girl we've heard NOTHING about," Torrie said as Dawn pulled up a seat beside her. The party had been going full-swing for about twenty minutes before the couple had arrived, and Torrie had already had a chance to talk to everyone else. Janine and Jessie (who was also known in the exotic dancer circuit as "Salsa") were chatting with Frank, who had put in a rare appearance. Torrie felt bad that he seemed to have been alienated a bit since things had gone south with Rachel, so she had made sure to invite him personally. Jeremy went over and sat down next to them for a bit. The two of them had pretty much reconciled in recent weeks and it was good to see them laughing together. Jeremy's sister and Torrie's best friend Rachel were chatting conspiratorially, glancing at Torrie every now and then. The pink-haired vixen wondered what her girlfriend and friend were up to. Dawn blushed and glanced at her lap. Even though she was now officially dating Jeremy, she couldn't help but feel a bit aroused by Torrie. The pink-haired girl was wearing black spandex pants that rode delightfully low on her hips, exposing the pink straps of her thong. She wore a snug white tube-top over her small but firm breasts, and the garment contrasted nicely with her perfectly tanned skin as well as displaying her washboard abs. This was a woman who knew just how sexy she could be. Dawn tried imagining this fairly confident woman being tied up and sexually dominated. It was an enticing mental image. "Hello. Earth to Dawn, anyone there?" Torrie said, causing the newcomer to blush even harder. "Well, at least I know you're still alive." "Sorry," the redhead whispered. "I was listening." "So, how do you like our Jeremy so far? Not bad is he? For a guy I mean." Dawn grinned. "No, not bad at all." Torrie leaned in. "Jeremy . . . he told me that he and you talked a little bit about what happened . . . with him and me. What all . . . exactly . . . did he say?" "He said you'd been friends for a long time and . . . and that he had kinda had a crush on you. Then he told me about your depression, what almost happened, and then he told me 'bout your 'encounter' after Rachel got in trouble." "Are you gonna be okay with that? I mean, I know you barely know me so you don't have much reason to trust me, but Jeremy's my friend now. That's it." "I know. I think that's why he told me everything before I had a chance to meet you. No secrets. Can I ask you something?" When Torrie nodded, Dawn continued. "I . . . I'm getting my Masters in psychology, so I'm interested in what happened to you. What kind of depression was it?" "I don't think it had a name. My psychiatrist said it was like . . . anti-social personality disorder." "A perpetual state of lowered physiological arousal? I can see how that could manifest itself in depression. What . . . what did it feel like?" "It didn't feel like anything," Torrie said, waxing introspective. "It was like the absence of feeling. It . . . it was almost like when someone lowers the sound on your television just a little each day. At first I didn't notice, then things seemed less and less clear to me. I kind of heard what people were saying, but it had to be something important or psychologically REALLY loud or else I just didn't pay any attention to it. Then . . . " Torrie stopped and took a deep breath. "Then I didn't hear anything. The world around me might have well as not existed. I didn't care about anything anymore." "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drag up bad feelings," Dawn said, afraid she had overstepped her bounds. "One thing I learned is that any feeling, bad or good, is better than feeling nothing. Besides, I'd say things turned out pretty well," Torrie finished as the buxom Isabel snuck up on her from behind and hugged her girlfriend's midsection. "Isabel, have you met Dawn?" "No, because you've been hogging her since she showed up," Isabel said, kissing her girlfriend on the cheek and then shaking Dawn's hand. "Nice to meet you. I hope Torrie hasn't been TOO chatty." "No, she's been a perfect hostess," Dawn said quietly, watching as Isabel ran her hands over that perfect midsection. 'No wonder Jeremy had such a thing for her.' "Well, I've told you about me," Torrie said, pulling up a seat, "now tell me about you." Isabel sat down on the other side of her. "And don't leave out any of the details, no matter how dirty." Dawn smiled as she talked about how she and Jeremy had met and how she had jumped from the East Coast to the West Coast, and she quickly found herself chatting along amiably as if these two women were old friends. She felt a little plain next to them, but they made her feel comfortable. "No hitting on Dawn," Jeremy said, wandering over. "I just found her!" Dawn scrunched her face. "So the all girl orgy is right out?" Jeremy stopped, his mouth hanging open as he contemplated the idea. "Can I . . ." "No," interrupted Torrie, giving Dawn a quick squeeze on the thigh. She looked at Isabel. "Sorry. No fun with Dawn tonight." Isabel pouted as insincerely as she could. Not that she would have minded including the cute redhead in their games, but that wasn't to be. "So you girls aren't . . . on . . . tonight?" Dawn asked. Torrie looked vexed. "No," she said, shooting a dirty look at her full-time girlfriend and part-time mistress. "SOMEONE thought my birthday should count as a safe day." Isabel grinned. While she loved tying her girlfriend up, doing naughty things to her or with her in public, and periodically fucking the girl's brains out, she discovered that the sweetest torture was making Torrie think that she WASN"T going to do those things to her. Isabel had something a little more vanilla planned, but she was pretty sure that Torrie was going to like it. But until then, there was a party to be had. "So, it's time to go dancing!" Isabel said. --------------- -------------- Later that evening . . . --------------- -------------- "C'mon, tell me it was fun," Isabel said as she and the girls stumbled into the apartment she shared with Torrie. "Okay, it was fun," Torrie said, sitting down on the couch and rubbing her calves. They had gone dancing before going down to the beach, sipping drinks and listening to the waves. Isabel knew the sorts of things that her girlfriend liked to do on her downtime. Jeremy and Dawn had bowed out at that point to go "back to her place." Frank and Rachel had gotten to have a long talk, which had been good for both of them. Then Rachel, Isabel, Janine, Jessie and Torrie had all headed back to the apartment for "a night cap." "Don't get too comfortable," Isabel said, wandering into the master bedroom. Torrie grinned. She knew her night wasn't over. It was her birthday and she hadn't gotten laid yet, and Isabel would NEVER let that happen. "Girls, why don't you help Torrie get comfortable?" came Isabel's request. Suddenly, the other three girls descended on Torrie. Jessie and Janine grabbed her arms while Rachel started to undress her friend. Rachel's black hands were trembling a bit, and Torrie wondered how she had gotten talked into this. True, Torrie had given her best friend a touch of lesbian love a few weeks earlier and the girl seemed to have dug it, but that had been a spur of the moment thing. This was premeditated. Isabel had to have set this up. "Rachel, are you cool with this?" "Am I that obvious?" Rachel responded. "Yeah. I'm cool." "Actually, I think you're hot!" Jessie said, reaching out one hand and grabbing one of Rachel's large tits through her top. "Hey, the birthday girl gets groped first," said Isabel, who had returned with a bag of goodies and a strange looking piece of clothing. "Stand her up. Torrie, did you really think I'd let you get through the day without a little dose of your medicine?" she asked sweetly. "Now, let's put this on you." What "this" turned out to be was a PVC straightjacket, minus the crotch strap. Soon, Torrie's arms were secured behind her, though Isabel made sure she wasn't too uncomfortable. Ever since a night at Dark Eden had gotten a bit out of control, Isabel had been a little more cautious in her choice of restraints. Torrie was forced to her knees, then the other girls stood in a circle around her. And all of them were taking their sweet time stripping their clothes off. "She looks hungry, doesn't she?" Jessie asked. "When is Torrie not hungry for pie?" said Janine. "Girls, girls . . . I think we need to let the birthday girl get her presents," Isabel said, standing directly in front of her captive. Her pussy was already wet with anticipation, it's outer lips smooth and shining. "And in case you were wondering, Torrie my dear, I'm 'revoking' your safe-status for a little while. This won't be a regular thing. Consider it a birthday present." She pushed her crotch against her slave's face. "Now eat me like the little slut we all know you . . ." Her tirade was cut off as her subservient leapt into action, burying her mouth in that perfect snatch and licking to her heart's content. This was indeed a birthday treat for Torrie. The other girl's moved in and waited their turn, salivating as they watched Torrie pleasing her mistress. To keep themselves occupied, the girls began fondling each other's pussies. Rachel was directly across from Isabel, so she reached out and slid her fingers into Janine and Jessie's warm bodies. This was still new to her, but she was getting the hang of it. She hadn't come to any definitive decisions as to whether she needed to completely reconsider her sexuality, but she knew that she was going to keep her mind open. And when Janine and Jessie reciprocated her fingerings, second thoughts were again shoved to the back of her mind. The only thing on Torrie's mind was making her mistress cum on Torrie's face. With her neck bent at a slightly uncomfortable angle, she was dragging her tongue up and down the plump outer labia, rubbing her cheek against them and then sticking her tongue into the hole. But just when she thought she was making headway, Isabel spun Torrie around until she was looking at Jessie's crotch. The Latin hottie grinned and ground her succulent snatch against Torrie's eager mouth. "C'mon chica. Show me what you got!" Jessie had pretty much grabbed Torrie by the ears as she humped the prisoner's face. She lifted her leg a bit, using Torrie's head to help balance. "And get my asshole too, you fucking slut!" Torrie teased the girl's dark sphincter, tracing circles around it before stimulating the opening itself. Then she drew her tongue back towards the bottom of Jessie's pussy, sticking it in, then returning to the asshole. "She's a nasty thing, isn't she?" Jessie asked. "In so many ways," Isabel said. "But your turn is up . . . for now." Jessie spun Torrie another ninety degrees, and the pink-haired girl was now face to crotch with her best friend Rachel. "You know, the last time we did this, I was really scared," Rachel said. Then she pushed Torrie back a bit and actually stepped over the girl's shoulders, encompassing the girl's face with those firm thighs. "Not this time," she growled. Then, she moaned. Torrie also no longer had any reservations about the idea of eating Rachel's cunt, and her tongue began moving a hundred miles per hour. 'She's so pink inside,' Torrie thought as she lapped away at Rachel's inner plumbing. She latched her lips onto Rachel's clit, sucking gently. She hummed, further stimulating that little nub. The she snuck her tongue under the hood and . . . "Oh no you don't," Rachel said, stepping back and spinning Torrie to face Janine. As badly as she wanted for Torrie to continue, Isabel had a plan. They were going to make Torrie wait. Janine had actually turned around and was facing the other direction, so Torrie had to push her face between those pleasantly round butt cheeks before she could bury her tongue in Janine's nether lips. Torrie was spun like a bottle several more times, pleasuring each girl in turn. Each of her friends reminded her what a slut she was and they weren't exactly being gentle as they fucked her face. Finally, Isabel let that talented tongue slide into her box, and Torrie was able to bring her mistress to orgasm. The pink-haired slave stared up Isabel's body as she lapped up her cum, watching her breasts jiggle delightfully as she experienced the ultimate pleasure. Next was Jessie. Even when she was gyrating her hips, Jessie looked like she was dancing. No wonder she was such a successful stripper. Everything she did was erotic. Torrie's face was glistening with the juices of two girls. But then Torrie was turned all the way around until she was Janine. Not that Torrie minded, because Janine was hot, but she wanted to eat Rachel until she came. But Isabel probably knew that, and wanted to make Torrie 'suffer.' So Torrie responded by laying into Janine with her best oral attack, speeding the girl towards climax. After repeated long swathes right up the slot, she concentrated on Janine's clit, finally getting her wish. "Sweet Jesus!" Janine squealed, pumping more girl-cum onto Torrie's face. The submissive was beginning to feel almost bloated with the amount of girl-sauce she had consumed, but she still wanted more. Isabel looked at Rachel. "Would you be a dear and lie down on the ground?" she asked of the black-skinned goddess. As Rachel lay down quite leisurely and propped her head up with a pillow, Isabel shoved Torrie onto her stomach, her face landing in Rachel's crotch. "Start eating!" she commanded. Torrie was WAY ahead of her. "Fuck, she is SO much better than any guy," Rachel said. She almost laughed when she thought of how unlikely this would have seemed to her. Now, she looked forward to it. As Torrie's lips began sucking on Rachel's inner labia, she groaned contentedly. She stared at her friend, bound in a shiny-black straightjacket with her arms behind her back, struggling to bring Rachel to orgasm. And Torrie was oblivious to what was going on behind her as the three other girls were equipping themselves with strap-on harnesses and dildos. "Janine, why don't you go first?" Isabel asked. Torrie wasn't sure what her mistress meant, then she felt a sex-toy poised at the entrance to her snatch. Janine had straddled the backs of Torrie's thighs and was in the process of pushing a seven-inch, green jelly dong into the submissive's pussy. She pushed it all the way to the balls, driving Torrie's hips into the carpet and her face further into Rachel's honeypot. "Take it bitch," Janine growled as she grabbed Torrie's hips and went to down, pounding down into the girl as she tried to get Rachel off. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 05 Torrie was as close to heaven as she could remember being. Her tongue was running circles inside Rachel's pussy, and Rachel had her friend's hair wrapped up in her fingers. All the while, Janine pounded into her without mercy or pause. Isabel and Jessie knelt on either side of Rachel and began licking her nipples and her generous cleavage. Rachel held on even tighter as she began to cum, and she put everything she had into that orgasm. Her breasts quivered, her abdominal muscles clenched and her back arched. Soon, the cum was actually dripping off of Torrie's face. "My, that was a dandy," Isabel said. Then she and Jessie pulled Rachel out from under Torrie's face. Torrie was left lying on her stomach while getting drilled from behind by Janine, and all she could do was take it. Just like before, Torrie's captors began taking turns. As Rachel slipped into a harness of her own, Janine pulled out of Torrie's box. As Torrie began squirming around on the floor like an inchworm, Jessie pounced on her upturned backside and slid an eight-inch strap-on dildo into Torrie's pussy. Jessie grabbed the back of Torrie's hair and pulled her head upright as she fucked the captive girl. She fucked Torrie for several minutes, then pulled away. The three other captors let Torrie crawl around for a minute before Rachel took her turn. As Rachel pushed her eight-inch, flesh colored toy into her best friend's cunt, she also lay her bodyweight down onto Torrie's back. Torrie was pinned flat against the ground, and Rachel started pumping her hips. "Tell me you like it," Rachel whispered into Torrie's ear. "I like it," Torrie replied, groaning into the carpet. "Tell me you love it!" "I love it! Please, fuck me harder!" Rachel braced herself with her arms and started humping harder. Every time she pounded into Torrie's body, the pink-haired girl moved a little across the carpet. She grunted when Rachel filled her box with plastic cock, and she whimpered when Rachel took the toy out. "Please fuck me," Torrie whimpered. Rachel was grinning. "What a whore! I thought that maybe the girls were exaggerating, but you really are a slut now, aren't you?" She plunged the dildo into Torrie's depths again, listening to the girl's contented sigh. But then she pulled out again. Rachel wandered around and got on all fours in front of Torrie, giving the captive girl a side profile. And Isabel knelt behind her, a mammoth ten-inch dildo dangling from her harness. She pushed the head of the device into the gap underneath Rachel's harness and then looked at Torrie. "I'll bet you wish you could do this," she asked. "I bet you'd like to fuck Rachel like this. Or maybe you would just like to have this big fucking dick in your pussy. But it isn't your time . . . yet." With that, she pushed all ten inches into Rachel's willing body. It was a bit of a rush for the part-time dominatrix. She hadn't really been this sexually involved with anyone except Torrie in a long time, but she knew this would drive her girlfriend crazy. She reached around and grabbed Rachel's heavy tits and began to fuck her. Rachel was experience pleasure she had never imagined before. This was the type of "being filled" that she liked. And Isabel knew how to operate that thing. She wasn't hurrying. She was just satisfying Rachel's carnal cravings. Her pussy was stretched to try and handle that big plastic toy. She thought back to that night at Dark Eden when she had been fucked senseless by Mr. X. That was how she felt tonight. Torrie was in an entirely new type of agony. It wasn't physical pain. Rather, it stemmed from unfulfilled desire. She wanted to be the one penetrating Rachel . . . or was it to be penetrated by Rachel? Or maybe to be taken by Isabel? She couldn't make up her mind. She found herself humping the carpet, wishing to be part of what was in front of her. It was beautiful really . . . two voluptuous women coupled like that. Isabel's white skin contrasting with Rachel's ebony skin . . . Isabel's large breasts pressed into Rachel's back while gripping that woman's enormous melons. "Girls," Isabel said to Jessie and Janine, "why don't you 'take care' of our pet here," Isabel said. Jessie lay on her back while Janine hauled Torrie's carcass on top of her. The two free girls managed to get Jessie's strap-on cock fitted snugly into Torrie's pussy. Then Torrie felt the cold touch of a lubricated cock pressing against her back door as Janine began the slow violation of Torrie's ass. "Oh God!" Torrie squeaked as her sphincter began to slowly expand. She felt every agonizingly-slow inch push its way into her backdoor. And Jessie just lay underneath her, smiling as the pressure of having both her openings filled almost overwhelmed Torrie. Her legs were spread, her knees were splayed and her feet were trying to hook onto Jessie's legs just above the knees. Her asshole started to relax and Janine slid the rest of the way in. Then the two women began to fuck their captive. Janine had more leverage and therefore was doing most of the work, but she didn't mind. Neither did Jessie. Just watching the expressions on Torrie's face was worth it. Because when Isabel had laid the entire plan out to them, they had all understood that tonight was about satisfying Torrie's every need, secret or otherwise. "Take that cock, bitch!" Janine said, getting further into the spirit of things as she grabbed Torrie's hair and fucked her harder in her perfect little ass. Janine had admired those firm cheeks since the two of them had met, and she was delighted to get a chance to split them in half. Meanwhile, Jessie had started sucking on Torrie's neck, but managed to also reach around and grab Torrie's aforementioned butt cheeks and keep them spread for Janine. "Thank them for treating you like a piece of meat," Isabel ordered of her slave. Isabel was licking her lips at the sight. "Thank you for treating me like a piece of meat," Torrie grunted. "My ass and pussy are so full." "Good girl," Isabel said. She turned Rachel a little bit and had the black girl scoot a little closer to the Torrie sandwich. "As a reward, you can suck on Rachel's tits." Rachel picked up one hand and used it to cup her breast, offering that warm, dark flesh to Torrie's lips. Torrie didn't waste a second, engulfing that touch nipple in her lips and sucking on it like a calf looking for some milk. "She just can't get enough, can she?" Rachel asked as Torrie suckled at her breast. "Why don't we see how much she can take?" Janine asked, fucking Torrie's ass even harder. Isabel just watched as her girlfriend was encompassed in fertile female flesh. She never stopped fucking Rachel, but her mind was always on Torrie. She had planned on giving her slave a birthday she would never forget, and it seemed to be working. She grabbed Rachel's hips and really laid into her, and she quickly had Rachel moaning like a banshee. Torrie had endured as much as she could stand. She hunched her back, then tried to arch it. Every muscle in her body tensed up and her pussy and asshole clamped down, and Torrie had an apocalyptic orgasm. "I'm cumming! I'm fucking cumming!" she shrieked. "That was a wet one!" Jessie exclaimed as she felt her hips drenched in Torrie's fluids. Torrie wasn't the only one cumming. Rachel was biting her bottom lip as a final penetration by Isabel's enormous dildo caused the black girl to climax. She was able to stop her body from falling to the ground, but only barely. Isabel pulled out, and Rachel felt uncomfortably empty. "I believe it's our turn," Isabel said. Janine pulled out of Torrie's ass and then pulled her off of Jessie. As Isabel lay down on her back, that massive dildo pointed towards the ceiling, Jessie and Janine pulled the submissive's body on top her mistress's. They lowered Torrie's helpless form onto that thick plastic cock and left her there. "So big," Torrie moaned just before Isabel kissed her. Then Torrie felt her girlfriend spreading Torrie's ass cheeks. Then Rachel took her turn. After lubing up her strap-on toy, she took Janine's place in Torrie's backside. And Torrie was in heaven! Her girlfriend was beneath her, her best friend above her, and Torrie was helpless to stop them. "But you're taking it, aren't you? You fucking slut! You serve one purpose, and that is to provide pleasure to your betters!" Isabel said, humping her hips upward and filling Torrie's aching pussy with ten inches of joy. "And I thought that I was easy," Rachel said, ramming her slightly smaller toy into Torrie's gaping asshole. She remembered fondly the first time she had been double-penetrated like this, so she understood the kind of pleasure that Torrie must be feeling. "I'm so dirty," Torrie whispered into Isabel's ear. "I'm such a nasty girl," she added. Isabel kissed her. It was satisfying to hear a woman who could quote anything that Shakespeare ever wrote reduced to such a primal state. "Yes, you are," she replied quietly. "But you're MY dirty, nasty girl." Jessie removed her strap-on harness, got on all fours and then backed up to the pile of femininity. Much to her pleasure, she felt Isabel's tongue work its way into her pussy, Torrie was rimming her asshole and Rachel gently bit the girl's ass flesh. Janine positioned herself on the other side of the pile and plunged her plastic cock in Rachel's unsuspecting ass. "Fuck!" Rachel said, freezing in place as her sphincter adjusted. Isabel temporarily picked up the slack, humping with her hips and driving her fake dick into Torrie's incredibly tight sex-hole. She kept licking Jessie's pussy too. She didn't get to go down on Torrie nearly as often as she'd like, so she was worried her skills might be a little rusty. If Jessie's groaning was any indication, she needn't have worried. Torrie was sweating like a pig in her PVC straightjacket. She was slick from sweat from her forehead to her feet, her cum was still trickling down her thighs and all she could do is hope it never ended. "All right," Rachel said, glancing over her shoulder at Janine and smiling. Her ass had suitably relaxed and she was able to get back to business. She shoved deep into Torrie's behind while Janine stayed where she was. Then as Rachel pulled out of Torrie, she impaled herself further on Janine. Janine just grabbed Rachel's tits and enjoyed the ride. The room was filled with sound of flesh slapping against flesh and the crinkling of Torrie's PVC garment. Intermixed were assorted grunts, whines and moans, and the air was thick with the smell of sex. The combined attentions of Rachel, Torrie and Isabel quickly had Jessie cumming up a storm, and Isabel was the recipient of the majority of the dancer's girl-jizz before Jessie crawled away. 'Yep,' Isabel thought. 'I've still got it!' Rachel pulled out of Torrie's asshole and she and Janine backed away so that Janine could sodomize the black girl separately. Rachel was fingering her pussy as rapidly as she could, trying to bring about some much-needed relief. Her masturbation had become frenzied, but it was difficult to really get to business around the openings in the strap-on. But she did the best she could. Torrie was left with only Isabel to pleasure her, but that was enough. Isabel rolled her girlfriend onto her back, got between her legs and started to give her a proper fucking. Torrie wrapped her legs around her mistress's hips and just took it. It was a little uncomfortable for her, as her arms were still pinned between her back and the ground, but the pain was more than worth the pleasure. Rachel found herself unable to hold back the dam anymore and her juices burst outward as Janine railed against her round behind. While Janine had a death-grip on her tits, Rachel trembled and quivered as her body succumbed to sexual ecstasy. Isabel's eyes were locked on Torrie's. As she pounded the enormous dildo home until its latex testicles were resting on Torrie's skin, she whispered, "Happy birthday, lovergirl!" With one more thrust, Torrie began to cum. And Isabel kissed her the entire way through the orgasm. And the other girl's began to applaud. "I love you," Torrie whispered, smiling and exhausted. "I love you too," Isabel returned quietly. Then, more loudly, "But I have one last . . . gift . . . for you. Girls?" she said, looking at her compatriots. Torrie was hauled to her feet and bent over the sofa. Isabel walked into the bedroom and returned with a latex-covered paddle. "Let's see," Isabel mused, "you're twenty-three now . . . and with one to grow on . . . that makes twenty-four. That will be six strokes apiece. Did you really think that the birthday girl WASN'T going to get her spanking?" Torrie spread her legs and wiggled her ass, anxious to get her "present" underway. Janine went first, leveling six quick and light swings against Torrie's backside. Jessie's swings were harder, but she also gave the offended cheek a quick kiss between swings. Rachel hit a little harder than she probably should have, but Torrie seemed not to care. But as usual, Isabel spanked her just right . . . long, even strokes with just the right amount of strength behind them. And Isabel plunging that big dildo into Torrie's box and fucking her to another orgasm as the other girls looked on was the icing on the cake. ---------- ------------------ Half an hour later . . . ---------- ------------------ Isabel had been wearing a bathrobe when she escorted the other girls to the door. They were all smiling from ear to ear. Rachel promised to swing by the next day and take Torrie to the beach until Isabel could get out of work. Then Isabel went back inside and shirked her robe, revealing her naked body underneath. She walked into the bathroom where Torrie was soaking in the tub and slid into the water next to her. "So," she said, giving Torrie a kiss, "did you have a good birthday?" "Mmh," Torrie groaned, settling against Isabel's body. "I got lingerie, some vintage books, a few gift cards and then I got laid. I'd call that a pretty good day." Isabel sighed. "I wish I didn't half to work tomorrow. I'd rather just lounge in bed for a day." "Maybe Saturday?" Torrie suggested. "Maybe. Didn't you want to go to that book festival though?" "The festival goes all day. You could sleep in . . . I could bring you breakfast in bed," Torrie added, kissing her mistress on the side of the face. "Always ready to serve," Isabel said. "You and Rachel looked HOT tonight, by the way," Torrie said. "She's coming along nicely. Wait until she gets that 'invitation' from Mr. X, though." Isabel was privy to some information that Rachel wasn't. Mr. X's wife had taken a fancy to the dark-skinned beauty on her one and only trip to Dark Eden, and Rachel was going to be getting a most interesting offer. "I wish we could go," Torrie set petulantly. But being a patient of Mr. X, who was also her psychiatrist, meant that she couldn't participate in any kind of sexual activity involving him, and Isabel wasn't going anywhere without Torrie. "Don't worry," Isabel said knowingly. "I'm sure we'll find a way of passing the time," she added. "I knew I could count on you!" Torrie said, resting her head on her lover's shoulder. ------------ ---------------- A few days later . . . ------------ ---------------- "Hey Rachel," Torrie muttered, her hands supporting her chin as she leaned on the sales counter at Victoria's secret. She normally didn't mind her job, but it had been a VERY slow day. "Hey. You need a ride home?" "Yeah. Isabel is meeting with some possible investors for the extension, so I'm kinda on my own tonight." "Not anymore," Rachel said. "Lock up and let's go get drunk." "Nah. I'm not drinking anymore. Wanna go catch a flick?" Rachel looked perplexed. "Sure. But why aren't you drinking anymore?" "Dude, I stopped months ago. No more smoking and no more alcohol, mostly because of my meds." "Didn't you drink when we went to the strip club that one time?" "No, that was you." "Oh yeah." Rachel hung out while Torrie closed out the register and locked up. "I've got a question for you," Rachel said as they walked out to Rachel's car. "I got a weird message from YOUR psychiatrist ask ME if I might like to attend his anniversary party at his house. What the fuck is that about?" "Didn't you call him back?" Torrie was smiling. "I think you impressed him that night. And I guess you REALLY impressed his wife." "Bitch, I ain't into that shit!" Rachel replied. "Well, not completely. I mean . . . it's fun and all to do the whole handcuff thing every now and then . . . especially if you're on top, but I ain't lookin' to be someone's slave! That's your area of expertise." "I don't think he's looking for anything permanent. From what I've heard, his 'anniversary parties' are pretty wild. He sent an invitation to Isabel, but she won't go without me and I can't go . . ." "Yeah, yeah. Because he's your doctor and having sex with him in any way would be unethical. But I'm not even a member!" "He's having it at his house, so he can invite whoever the hell he wants. Hey, just call him. Tell him you're not interested or what you're concerned about. You can figure out if it might be something you'd like to do." "Not a bad idea. I've enjoyed the girl-sex recently, but I could REALLY use a REAL cock right about now." "You could always call Frank," Torrie said pointedly. Rachel stopped and looked at one of the parking lot's lamps. "I know. I miss him. But even at the party . . . things just felt weird. Our whole relationship got so screwed up after I got kicked out of the house . . . " "Sorry, I didn't mean to drag up that shit. It's just . . . I liked you two together, even though I was the only one who knew about you until the shit hit the fan." Torrie hugged her friend's shoulders, taking an opportunity to look down Rachel's shirt. 'God, I'm such a horn-dog,' she thought. "Stop staring at my tits," Rachel said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, I'll . . . I guess I'll give Mr. X a call tomorrow. See if I can straighten this out. Damn it girl, hanging out with you recently is like a fuckin' aphrodisiac! How can you stand being so . . . horny all the time?" "Easy. I got me a woman that likes me this way!" Torrie strutted over to the car with a decadent sway in her hips. "So, what'cha wanna go see?" --------------- ------------ The next day . . . --------------- ------------ "So, I don't have to do anything more than that, and I won't get injured or anything?" Rachel asked. On the other end of the line, she heard a chuckle. "You have my word," came Mr. X's voice. "That night in the club was about letting go. You don't have the mindset to be a sex slave. You are just an . . . amorous . . . young woman. Since I would be your sponsor for the evening and because it's my event, you will be completely safe. Well, as 'safe' as you choose to be." There was a pause. "If it would make you more comfortable, you could bring someone with you. It couldn't be Torrie obviously . . ." "I understand." Rachel stopped and thought about it. "Actually, that would be nice. I have an idea of who I could ask. I'll just have to see if he'll go for it." "Just let me know by Saturday," Mr. X said, then he hung up. -------------- ---------- That evening . . . -------------- ---------- "You asked Frank?" Torrie said, a slight smile on her face. Rachel had come by the apartment to talk about Mr. X's offer and apparently her best friend had extended an "olive branch" to Frank. She wanted him to watch her back(side) at this anniversary celebration. "Yeah, I miss him. And I do trust him so . . . you know. I'm actually lookin' forward to this now." Rachel looked at the coffee table where a number of drawings were situated. Torrie and Isabel had been hunched over them when Rachel arrived. "So, you gonna talk to Mr. X about these?" Twenty Years to Life Ch. 05 "Of course she is," said Isabel, grabbing Torrie's hair and kissing her hard. She was pretty thrilled about her pet's new hobby: designing new bondage gear. Months earlier, Torrie had designed a nice pair of shackles that the couple used quite a bit. Her most recent flurry of innovation was a result of her first trip "on the block" at Dark Eden. The old-fashioned stocks that the club used when putting a slave up for auction had actually resulted in a number of injuries that Isabel thought were too much. But Torrie wanted to be the kind of slave that Isabel could show off and this, along with Torrie's increased libido, had led her to a number of ideas. "I like this one the most," Isabel said, pointed at what was for all intents and purposes a dog cage with a padded floor and a number of chains hanging from the roof and corners of the floor. The chains were also connected to various leather cuffs and straps that could reduce movement, as well as protected the slave from getting slammed against the sides of the cage. The entire thing would be adorned with a plexi-glas lid, turning the slave into an enticing coffee table. And the holes in the cage were close enough to all the naughty bits for random things to be inserted and used on the caged animal. "If he expands the bar like he's been talking about, these would be great. Pet, which do you like the best? Be honest," she added kissing Torrie a little more tenderly. "I like the web," she said. It was an installation piece made of steel bars, wielding together in the form of a spider's web and with the bars encased in rubber. It would be installed in the middle of the room and the victim would be tied to the crossbars with moveable cuffs. This would allow the restraints to be custom fit for each slave, making it safer than the stocks. And while the posterior of the person would still be exposed, the bars would make it much harder for an overzealous domineer or dominatrix from paddling with undue force. Apparently, Torrie wasn't the only slave who had taken more damage than she (or he) really should have because of sloppy domination. "If you want, I can show them to him at the anniversary party," Rachel offered. "No, but thank you," Isabel said, almost absent-mindedly pulling Torrie across her lap until the pink-haired girl was lying face down on the couch. "I think I may make this an official pitch to him once Torrie here," she said, giving the girl a quick spank on her spandex-shorts-covered behind, "has finished up all the details." She reached down and grabbed one of Torrie's legs, pulling on the shin until her knee was at a ninety-degree angle. Then she began giving her girlfriend a foot-rub, and Torrie snuggled her face into the cushion. 'Sometimes, it doesn't suck being her slave,' Torrie thought pleasantly. The two of them were much more comfortable in their relationship than either had been just six months earlier. "You girls want me to take off?" Rachel asked. "So you girls can . . . well, you know?" "Nah," Isabel said. "We're actually going to hit the hay a little early tonight. No loving. She has a certification exam tomorrow morning." "Congrats!" Rachel said. "I haven't passed yet," Torrie said. "But if I do, I should be able to find a real job for real money." "And then we'll celebrate," Isabel said, giving her girlfriend's ass a quick grope. "I'll even let you choose your own punishment!" ------------- ----------------- That Saturday . . . ------------- ----------------- "Are you sure you want to do this?" Frank asked for the tenth time. Rachel just rolled her eyes. "Yes, I want to do this." "When . . . why . . . so, you're going to have sex with this guy . . ." "His name is Mr. X," Rachel said patiently. Then, a little more cautiously, "He's also Dr. Smythe. As in, Torrie's psychiatrist." "You're going to fuck Torrie's psychiatrist?!?" Frank asked? All he had been told was that Rachel wanted to go to a "swinger party" that might involve "some kinky stuff," and that she wanted someone she trusted to go with her. He wasn't privy to some of the other aspects of what had been going on. "Yes. And his wife." "His . . . wife?" Frank was pretty much incredulous at that point. "Now I KNOW you're shitting me!" He noticed that Rachel's countenance was one of embarrassment, but he didn't think she was kidding. "Wait, you're not gay! Are you?" "No," she said exasperatedly. "If I were GAY, I wouldn't be having sex with Mr. X too. I think I'm . . . kind of . . . bi." "What? When?" Frank's eyes shot open. "Torrie?!?" It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who might have helped Rachel down the path towards woman-on-woman romance. "But isn't she with . . ." Rachel put a finger to his lips. "Okay, here's the whole scoop. Swear to God above you won't tell Jeremy." She waited for him to nod. "All right, a while back, Isabel took Torrie to that sex-club they like. Well, they invited me, almost as a joke. But I wanted to see what the big deal was, so I went. And I saw . . . all the things they did to her . . . and how much she loved it! She was fucked by two guys, three girls, and she was begging for more. And I noticed how hot Torrie was . . . probably for the first time. Mr. X saw me 'noticing,' and since he can't do anything with Torrie for professional reasons, he . . . well, he fucked me. And I loved it! But when it was over, he knew that somethin' had changed. He sent me down to the room where they were doing stuff with and to Torrie, and then . . . I guess you could say I had a turn. And I didn't exactly hate it. Apparently, Mr. X's wife sort of . . . finds me attractive, so that's how I got invited to this." She had just stopped the car in front of Mr. X's sizeable house. He had decided to move the party to his own residence while the club was going through some renovations. Frank was sitting in the passenger seat with some enormous wood in his pants as he pictured Torrie and Rachel together in a number of naughty ways. "I really wanted you to be here," Rachel continued, "because I miss you and I miss the way things used to be. Maybe we never can get it back like it was before, but I want to try, and you're one of the only ones I could trust to look after me tonight." Frank leaned over and gave his friend a hug. "You know I've got your back," he said. "Cool. And don't worry," she added, grasping his rigid shaft through his slacks, "I've been assured that THIS will be taken care of as well." Frank couldn't have been happier. He was not only being given a second chance with his hot ex-girlfriend, but he was probably going to get laid that very night. They got out of the car and walked up to the front door of the house. An attractive young woman in a maid's outfit (that much resembled one that Rachel had seen in Torrie's closet once) greeted them. They were directed to the dining room, where quite a spectacle was laid out for them. The dining room was fairly large, and there were chairs lining each side of the room. The maid showed Frank to one seat while Rachel was escorted by Mr. X himself to a side-room to be "readied" for her role the evening's proceedings. Even though Rachel had told him what to expect, Frank was still a little shocked to see Torrie's psychiatrist. He was dressed in a full tuxedo, as were most of the male guests that weren't slaves. Male and female slaves were at the sides of their masters and mistresses and were in various states of "sex-slave dress." Mr. X wandered over. "I must say I'm a bit surprised to see you here," the good doctor said. He had met Frank a couple of times while Torrie had been hospitalized, and had thought him a nice-enough young man. "Not as surprised as I am to be here. It used to be I didn't even know about all this shit, now Rachel drags me into the den of it." Frank looked around. He couldn't deny that this was a hot-looking bunch of people. The ages of the participants ranged from the early twenties to the mid-fifties, but everyone was in pretty good shape. Their host had chosen his anniversary party pretty well. "I hope you find the rest of the evening . . . enlightening. Oh, Pet here will keep you company and answer any questions you might have about the proceedings," Mr. X added, indicated the young maid who had appeared at Frank's side. The young Hawaiian native stared at her small but firm breasts that were attempting to pop out of tight uniform. "Works for me." He sat down as Mr. X wandered off, and "Pet" sat next to him. "So what's on the agenda for this evening?" he asked, tearing his gaze away from Pet's cleavage to her very pretty face and hazel eyes. "The master and mistress will be renewing their wedding vows. Then the mistress will be taken by the savages, followed by an orgy," Pet said with a completely straight face. "No really, what's going to happen?" "If everyone will have their seats, the renewal of the wedding vows will be able to begin," said a man in a PVC minister's outfit. Frank looked back at Pet. "You weren't kidding?" Pet let a smile crack. "No, I wasn't. If this is your first time viewing such a thing . . . don't be alarmed. While things may SEEM like they are out of control, everything has been completely orchestrated by the master." "So are you . . . his slave . . . also?" Frank asked. "Yes . . . and no. While I am at work, I am at his beck and call. I'm working overtime right now. But once I check out, I am beyond his power and free to do what I want. But mostly, I actually AM just a maid," she added. Frank gave her an appreciative once-over glance and smiled. "So, do you do windows?" Pet shook her head, but she was still smiling. "I do just about EVERYTHING, especially if asked nicely," she murmured, patting his leg and directing her gaze towards the front of the room. Frank felt a stirring in his pants. 'I think I'm going to like this after all,' he thought. The ceremony was . . . interesting. Mr. X's wife (whose real name was Laura, explained Pet) Laura was dressed only in white stockings and a matching garter belt. She was on her knees as they said their vows. Mostly, it was Mr. X promising to treat her like she deserved and Laura promising to obey. She was a handsome woman, particularly for someone her age. Her skin wasn't quite as taut is it once was and her breasts had a little sag to them, but she was still a definite MILF. Her blonde hair was tied back in a tight bun and her blue eyes were staring up at her husband and master. As soon as the vows were over, things began to pick up. Specifically, Mr. X whipped out his twelve-inch cock and shoved it into his wife's mouth. He grabbed her by the hair and viciously fucked her face. "Crap," Frank whispered to his guide for the evening, "he doesn't waste any time! That looks like it hurts." "Don't worry," came Pet's response. "Just remember that this is quite well orchestrated. Mrs. Smythe is in no danger, and I guarantee you that she's enjoying herself." Mr. X's violation of his wife's mouth was getting rougher. Spittle was leaking out her mouth, her cheeks were turning red and tears were leaking out of her mouth. She was obviously gagging on his meat, and only half of it was making it into her mouth on each pump. Mr. X's grip on his wife's hair remained tight he stuck his massive pole into her mouth over and over again. Despite Pet's warnings, Frank began to feel uncomfortable watching it. Mr. X whispered something to the "minister," who then made an announcement. "The bride is now ready to accept her master's seed, as is her duty and honor." Frank watched as Laura Smythe took an apparently massive load in her mouth. He heard some splurting noises and saw her throat ripple as she swallowed some of her master's jizz. The rest of his load spilled out onto the carpet when he pulled his cock out. "Crap," whispered Pet. "Do you have ANY idea of how hard it is to get semen stains out of the carpet?" Frank snickered. "Ever the professional," he whispered back. Just then, the primary entertainment for the evening walked in from the side room. There were five black people, all of whom were dressed in cheesy "primitive" African clothing, namely loincloths and bone necklaces. For of the "savages" were large and well-built males, and the fifth was Rachel. Rachel's large breasts were swinging free for the whole world to see, and she carried a spear that appeared to be topped of with a large black dildo. "What the fuck?" Frank muttered. Pet leaned in, placing her hand right next to her compatriot's stiff rod, and whispered, "The missus has a . . . special longing for black people, and the whole 'taken by savages' thing is one of her favorite fantasies. From what I understand, Mr. X indulges her every anniversary." "How sweet," Frank replied. "Don't be snide," Pet responded. "Believe it or not, they love each other very much, despite the extreme nature of their relationship. She gets just as much out of this relationship as he does. Maybe more. You should see the diamond earrings and necklace he bought for her." "He still buys her jewelry?" Pet rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I can understand you having problems believing that a woman would subject herself to what's going to happen here in just a moment. But to believe that a woman would stay married to ANY man for over twenty years without being given jewelry is just plain silly." "I stand corrected," Frank said, turning his attention to the front of the room. The savages had grabbed Laura and had tied her hands together in front of her with a short length of rope. The captive was doing her best to look afraid, but her lust was obvious to everyone. A number of guests had gathered around to watch the proceedings. Many of them had their own slaves on their knees, preparing their masters and mistresses for oral pleasure to be given during the proceedings. One of the black men grabbed Laura by the upper arms and hauled her to her feet, then his four companions began groping and pinching her somewhat aggressively. She was whimpering loudly as they pulled on her nipples, making them extend several inches past her breasts. Rachel was on her knees, reaching between Laura's legs and tugging on her inner labia. The white woman was wet as wet could be, and Rachel wanted badly to bury her face between those thighs and see if she could put some of the training she had gotten from Torrie and company to good use. But that would have to wait. She and the other savages had been informed to "play with their food" before any of them began to eat. So Rachel kept toying with the woman's opening, but never went inside. She did see one of the men's fingers forcing their way into Laura's asshole, but Rachel decided not to point out that violation of the rules. She glanced around and noticed that a number of dominant partners were being orally satisfied by their slaves as they watched the hostess of the party about to be violated. Rachel looked up and nodded to her compatriots. It was time. Laura was forced back to her knees and she was bent over at the waist, causing her to brace her self on the floor with her elbows and forearms. One of the men positioned himself in front of her, his eight-inch ebony pole projecting out from underneath his loincloth. Rachel straddled Laura's back and used fingers from each hand to fishhook the woman's mouth, stretching it open and allowing the man to shove his thick meat into her waiting gullet. Another savage knelt behind their captive and plunged another eight-inch rod into her pussy. The two men hammered the white woman with little regard for her comfort. Rachel released her grip on Laura's mouth, reached down and grabbed the woman's tits, mauling them as their owner was thoroughly fucked. Meanwhile, Frank's seven-inches were straining against his pants, and Pet had noticed. "Would you like me to help you with that?" she asked, staring at his crotch. "I AM here to help you in ANY way possible," she added meaningfully. Frank's mouth was watering at the thought. "Listen, you don't have to if you don't want to. I know you're just here because it's your job, and . . ." Pet shushed him with a kiss. Then she got on her knees in front of him and slowly pushed his legs apart. "My relationship with Mr. and Mrs. Smythe is different than their relationship with each other. I didn't HAVE to agree to be a . . . toy . . . to get this job. It just meant that I would get more money if I played along. And I LOVE to fuck," she added. "So if there is something you want, all you need to do is ask." "Please, suck my cock," he said at last. He was only human after all. "That wasn't so hard," she said, then unzipped his pants and pulled them down. "Or maybe it IS that hard," she said appreciatively as his cock sprung forward. She grabbed his shaft in one hand and kissed the head, then licked it. Then she licked a slow circle around the large mushroom head before teasing the pee-hole. "Oh God!" he said. "I'm not God," she murmured. "Think the other direction." With that, she took the whole head in her mouth, sucking on it as she began to hum. She used one hand to stroke the shaft while the other cradled his cum-filled testicles. Pet was looking forward to cleaning those balls out by the time the evening was over. She took a little more of his shaft into her mouth, then pulled back to the head. She kept doing this until she was able to accommodate his entire rod in her throat. Frank rested one hand on Pet's head, watching that incredible mouth bob up and down on his cock. She was so hot! After a few minutes, he decided he wanted a piece of her pie as well. He laid her on her back, shoved his cock back in her mouth while he hiked her skirt up and stuck his tongue into one of the prettiest pussies he had ever seen. Pet was groaning as well as humming into her partner's meat. She really hadn't expected for him to want to satisfy her. Most guys in that situation would have just been interested in their own pleasure, so she decided to be extra-special to Frank. As his tongue penetrated her clean-shaven box, she sucked his entire dick into her mouth and just held it there. It felt like an eternity squashed into a second for Frank. He already wanted to blast his load, but he didn't want the evening to be over already. "Pet, I think you might want to stop before I . . . " He was cut off as she squeezed his balls gently and kept his cock in her throat. Frank couldn't hold back, and he flooded her throat with cum. He dick was twitching and pulsing wildly as he dumped a gallon of sticky stuff into her mouth. "Holy . . . shit," he gasped. Pet swallowed every last drop with a delightful gulp, then let his semi-rigid shaft slide from between her lips. "If you like, I'm sure I can get you ready again," she promised. And she knew it was a promise she could back up. The only response she got was Frank going back to work on eating her cunt. She pushed her hips against his face and groaned. Finally, she took his softening cock back into her mouth and began nursing on it as gently as she could. Pet knew that when done right, this post-ejaculation blowjob could be just as pleasurable as the earlier one, and could help speed up the refractory period. And she wanted some more of that beautiful dick! Back at the front of the room, Laura had been shoved onto her back with two male savages grabbing her ankles and keeping her spread-eagled. The other two men were holding her head, forcing her to watch as Rachel grabbed her dildo-spear. From about six feet away, she placed the tip of the toy at Laura's entrance. She looked at Mr. X, who smiled and gave her a thumb's down. With that, Rachel thrust the spear into Laura's womb. The captive's eyes lit up as her body was skewered by the large plastic phallus. She felt it being slowly twisted and turned in her vaginal opening. Then it was pulled back before Rachel thrust with it again. She looked up with deep longing at the woman wielding the spear. Ever since she had seen Rachel in her husband's office, she had wanted a piece of the young beauty and she was finally getting it. And Rachel was beginning to get into the "savage" mentality. She had a hungry glare plastered on her face as she continued to thrust. She glanced to the side and saw a large black cock pointing at her face. It belonged to one of the captives holding her head. When he noticed his equipment was being examined, he thrust that cock into her waiting lips. It wasn't as large as her husband's piece, but it still was formidable enough to make her gag. He smelled so perfectly musky and sweaty, and she wanted him to fuck her mouth like he owned it, which in fact he did. She saw her husband watching as his precious wife and slave was used like piece of meat. He was smiling, and that made her happy. Twenty Years to Life Ch. 05 Rachel's mind was ablaze with lust. She called one of the other savages over and told him to lie on his back. After he had done so, she ordered that the prisoner be flipped over on top of him. Two of the other men grabbed her and put her on top of the first savage, shoving her pussy down onto his cock. She squealed as her pussy was filled with his warm staff, but Rachel wasn't done with her. She had the two men that had repositioned Laura grab her arms and hold them straight out, while the fourth man went back to slamming his dick down the captive's throat. His balls were swinging in the breeze as his thick dick stretch Laura's mouth. The captive was using her tongue on the soft underside of his prick to encourage him to go faster. Rachel had another idea as well. She took her cock-spear and placed the head at the woman's now-exposed backside and pushed the head of it into her sphincter. Laura almost screamed into the cock in her mouth, and that man pulled out before she bit into anything important. Rachel's penetration was slow but methodical, and she actually got to watch as inch after inch disappeared into Laura's backdoor. This was something that Laura hadn't expected, but found herself enjoying greatly. She wondered if her husband might find ways of incorporating Rachel into their games more often. She would find a way of subtly dropping a hint. While she may be a sex slave, she was still a fairly intelligent woman who generally got what she wanted. Rachel continued to thrust away with the spear, enjoying the sight of Laura's asshole stretching as it tried to accommodate the weapon. As soon as she was accustomed to it, the man in front of Laura put his dick back in her mouth and started to pump again. It wasn't long before Laura was hit by a monumental orgasm. Mr. X watched as his wife's body trembled and she groaned with a mouth full of big black dick. He was getting hard again just watching. She was in her element now . . . on her knees and providing pleasure. With his cock at full staff again, Mr. X walked around behind Rachel and grabbed her hips. She spread her legs, but kept thrusting her spear into Laura's ass. She cooed as Mr. X sunk all twelve inches of wholesome white meat into her pink pussy. He wrapped an arm around her waist and another around her chest, fondling her titanic tits as he fucked her. Her box was so snug around his member that he knew that even though it was his second time, he probably wouldn't last long inside her if he didn't pay attention. "Switch off," Rachel ordered, and the four male savages obeyed. The one in her mouth pulled out and grabbed an arm so that one of his friends might have a turn in that hungry maw. The woman's lips were sore, but she would never complain. Rachel's own thrusting was slightly less vigorous, as she was distracted by the incredible pressure being exerted on her vaginal walls by Mr. X's enormous cock. She wanted to cum on that cock so badly that it almost hurt. Finally she dropped the spear. "You, fuck her ass," she said to one of the men holding Laura's arms. "And you, get over here," she told the other. As one black savage sank eight inches of ebony pole into Laura's ass, the other found his nine inches swallowed by Rachel's mouth. Rachel reached around and grabbed his muscular ass, pulling on it and setting the tempo for the blowjob while Mr. X fucked her from behind. 'I'm as slutty as Torrie is,' she thought. Meanwhile, Laura Smythe was in the process of getting a hefty load of baby-batter deposited in her womb. The black man she had been riding for a while thrust his meat as far in as he could get it and shot his load. When his two friends pulled the white woman off of him, some of his seed dripped out of her pussy. She intensified her sucking on the dick in her mouth, wanting another load of jizz. The dull pain ebbing in her backside was making her even more horny. Rachel noticed that Laura had a vacancy, and reluctantly sent the recipient of Rachel's oral attentions back over to fill it. After a few minor repositionings, Mrs. Smythe was taking it in all three holes again, while Rachel was content with the enormous shlong in her cunt. She glanced around at the throng of flesh in the room. Masters and mistresses were fucking every slave they could find in every whole and in every combination imaginable. And in the back of the room, she saw Frank. Frank had managed to get Pet off twice with his tongue while she slowly had nursed his dick back to health. Once hard again, he sat in the chair and had her sit in his lap, facing away while bracing herself with her hands on his shoulders and her feet on his knees. She sunk onto his dick and started to bounce up and down. All Frank had to do was enjoy the ride. Laura's attentions had finally achieved positive results. The man she was sucking on lost control and dumped his spunk onto her tongue, and it was a good load indeed. She couldn't even swallow it all and was forced to let some of it leak out of her mouth. And the man in her ass wasn't far behind. He groaned, grabbed her hips and shot his jizz into her bowels. Laura herself began to climax again, and the pressure exerted by her pussy caused her third captor to deposit his seed. "I want her," Rachel said, staring at the naked and cum-filled woman lying on the floor in front of her. Rachel pulled away from Mr. X and flipped his wife onto her back. She promptly knelt on either side of Laura's face and lowered her sex to the woman's still willing lips. Mr. X walked over, positioned himself between his wife's legs and thrust himself inside. Rachel squirmed and wiggled as the captive's tongue slid inside her cunt. It didn't take long before the dark-skinned woman was cumming on Laura's face, particularly after the pounding her pussy had taken with Mr. X's generous equipment. But even as her pussy quivered and her spendings dropped, she remained seated on Laura's face a while longer. As the two of them fucked Laura, a few other males wandered over. Some were masters while others were slaves being ordered by their own masters. All of them had rigid erections that they began to stroke. And one by one, the shot their cream onto Laura's helpless body. As the last of them finished cumming on her body, her husband filled her warm sex with another load of his own. That left Rachel sitting astride her face, demanding satisfaction. At the back of the room, Frank had decided he wanted something besides Pet's incredibly tight pussy. He wanted to complete the tour of her body, so he waited until she pulled up off of him, moved his cock a bit and had her sink her ass onto it. Not only did Pet not mind, she sank quickly and began to bounce even harder than before. "In case you were wondering," she grunted, "I am a total ass slut." "Where have you been all my life?" he responded, grabbing her hips and going to town. "What's your real name, by the way? If you don't mind my asking?" She turned and smiled at him, even as she filled her ass with his dick. She seemed to be blushing. "Actually, it IS Pet. My parents were hippies who just missed the sixties by a couple decades. Now please fuck me," she pleaded. She started playing with herself as he reamed her, lifting one hand to rub small circles around her clit. Pet wasn't the only one with clits on her mind. Laura was sucking on Rachel's clit like it was going out of style. Her tongue was licking deep into that pink crevice as well, and Rachel's sexy musk was almost overpowering the captive's senses. Rachel had grabbed Laura's nipples and was using them to hold on for dear life. This woman had many years of skill, and Rachel was getting every trick the woman knew. As she rode Laura's face, Mr. X was talking with a few guests. Slowly, a line began to form between Laura's legs. The first guy stuck his dick in her and when balls to the wall until he came inside her, as did the second guy. Girls just ate Laura for a little bit before giving up their places in line. Rachel felt a stirring in her lower abdomen that could only mean one thing. She sank down until Laura's mouth was completely submerged in Rachel's opening, then the black girl came all over her captive's face. "Oh, that was fucking good," Rachel said as Mr. X helped her to her feet. Mr. X looked down as his wife continued to be used as a sex toy for his other guests. "I'm very glad you came . . . in every sense of the word. I think she would enjoy getting to see you again," he added with a knowing wink. Rachel smiled. "As long as YOU realize that I'm just a slut and not a slave, I think something can be worked out." "Well put," he said. "But for now," Rachel murmured, looked at the back of the room where Frank was still filling Pet's ass with his cock, "there's something I need to do." Rachel wandered towards the couple, who were oblivious to her presence until she knelt in front of them. Pet's sweat covered face looked down with confusion, but she smiled as Rachel began to lick Pet's swollen outer labia. "Good grief Rachel," Frank said with surprise when he noticed what was going on. She hadn't been lying! Rachel was actually eating pussy and apparently enjoying it! Rachel was doing just that. Pet's cunt was so inviting that Rachel was quite content to explore it. She mostly just pushed her tongue against Pet's clit and began to move it in small circles, but she also made a few deep passes, and even licked around the girl's asshole as it tried to clamp down on Frank's dick. Rachel missed being this close to Frank. She missed his friendship and his humor as much as she missed his cock. Maybe this could be the beginning of something new for them . . . something better. As long as they were honest with each other and the person they were with, things might just work out. Rachel smiled, then wrapped her lips around one of Frank's balls while he was buried in Pet's backside. She didn't want Pet to feel left out, so she shoved her thumbs into the girl's warm box and began to stretch and toy with that particular opening. Pet's mind exploded and she started to cum by the gallon. "Fuck yeah! Please eat me some more?" she whined. Rachel grinned and started licking up the slot. All the way through Pet's orgasm, she sent her tongue deep and kept going even after Pet had stopped cumming. Frank had stopped thrusting during the orgasm, but he also started up again. He had cocked his head to the side so he could watch Rachel's pink tongue lashing out at Pet's pink pussy, and he found himself wishing that he had a camera. Frank moaned. He waited until Pet was on an upstroke, then pulled his cock out of her bum and pointed it at Rachel's face just before he shot another load. He cum came spitting out, splattering against the black girl's chin and neck, then dribbled down onto her tits. Pet leapt off of Frank's lap and began to lick his cum off Rachel's body. Rachel was surprised but found the girl's cleaning efforts to be quite pleasant in their own right. And when she was done licking up all of Frank's discarded jizz, Pet kissed Rachel on the lips, letting Rachel suck some of the man-juice out of her mouth. "That was intense," she said, almost at a whisper. "Sorry," Pet said, suddenly a bit embarrassed. "I should have asked first." "Quite all right," Rachel said. Both women sat down on Frank's knees and cuddled up against his chest. "This most DEFINITELY does NOT suck," Frank said. The three of them watched as other guest finished off their respective trysts or continued to fuck Laura Smythe. By the time the evening was over, Laura could barely move and had to be helped up to the master bedroom by Mr. X and Pet. Pet quickly wandered back down stairs as all the guests began to leave. "My employer wishes to thank both of you for attending," Pet said. "No problem," Rachel said. "That was fuckin' awesome!" "I . . . am actually speechless for the first time . . . ever," Frank said with a quizzical look on his face. Pet beamed. "Uhm, just so you both know, I'm not really . . . seeing anyone. I mean, sometimes I fuck Mr. X or the mistress, but that's just part of the game. So if you two are every looking for a third . . ." Rachel steeled herself, stepped forward and kissed the girl, grabbing her ass in the process. After a few heated moments, she stepped back. "I think we'd like that," she said, glancing at Frank and then kissing him as well. It felt good to do that again. ------------------- --------------- A couple of days later . . . ------------------- --------------- Isabel and Torrie were lounging on their apartment's balcony. Torrie was lying stomach first on the beat-up old sofa they had out there, her head resting on Isabel's thigh. Her butt was a bit tender from the incredible spanking she had just received as her reward for completing her designs ahead of their scheduled meeting with Mr. X. Isabel was stroking her girlfriend's hair, slightly exhausted after having been eaten to several orgasms after the spanking. "It's so amazing," Torrie said wistfully, staring up at the stars. "What is?" "Everything. You . . . this life . . . but mostly you." Isabel smiled, leaned in and kissed Torrie on the back of the neck. "Not that I mind, but what makes you say that?" "It's just . . . it wasn't even a year ago that I was sitting in a dead-end job, waiting . . . waiting to die." Isabel stroked her lover's back. "That wasn't your fault and you know it." "I know, but it doesn't change how I felt. Now . . . " "Now what?" "Now I do care. About you, my friends, my parents, my mind . . . and I care about me. I want to be happy all the time, and you do that for me," Torrie finished. "We do that for each other," Isabel said. "Because of you, I get to be me. I don't have to pretend to be something I'm not for the first time in my life. I like who I am with you." She gripped Torrie's tender ass. "And I like who you are with me." "It's funny. Jeremy has settled down . . . apparently . . . to be with just one girl. Rachel is sleeping with girls now, as well as with Frank, my psychiatrist, his wife and his maid, and it all seems normal to me. What a completely bizarre group we are." Torrie kissed Isabel's hand. "I don't want it to end. I don't think it will," she added hurriedly, "but . . ." "But nothing," Isabel said. "There aren't any guarantees, but at least now we've got hope. We were both prisoners before. As cheesy as it sounds, I was a prisoner in my old life, and you were a prisoner in your own mind. We set each other free. Now . . . now life begins." "What happens next?" Torrie asked. "We go to bed, sleep late and then . . . and then we'll just have to see." "Can I have another spanking?" Torrie asked, flipping her roped off her posterior and exposing the pinked skin. "That," said Isabel, "is something I CAN guarantee. Now get your cute butt into the bedroom. We have our lives to get back to." ------------- -------------- The end . . .