Sorrel's Long Journey to Love Ch. 02

Chapter Two

The Life of the Party:

Sorrel started walking forward. She turned to say something to Fletcher, but he was gone. She looked back at the party and the partiers. Everyone was having a good time. No one seemed to notice her. She was glad of it. She walked over toward the tables where the foods were laid out. Most everything had been pretty thoroughly picked over. Though she had eaten earlier, she was hungry again. She dare not take of the food herself so she walked off toward a nearby tree. The sun was much hotter now than it had been earlier. The shade of the tree looked inviting.

Cynthia Hammer watched as Sorrel came out of the pool house. Florence had selected the outfit, and she couldn't decide whether she liked or disliked it. She thought it looked pretty, and at the same time it looked a little too youthful for Sorrel. She considered the way the skirt swirled around the other woman's thighs. The blouse was soft looking; on the transparent maybe opaque side. It looked sexy, but overall the outfit still looked too juvenile for someone Sorrel's age. Cynthia thought that was the way she should be kept, in a child like state. It would eventually lead to a child like frame of mind. She'd be easier to control. Cynthia called out, "Sorrel come over here."

Sorrel looked up and saw it was Steve's wife who was calling her. Of all the women associated with the firm Sorrel liked Cynthia the least. She believed Cynthia thought something had been going on between Steve and her. The woman had no idea how repugnant Steve was to her. The way he looked at her in the office made her skin crawl. She gave Cynthia a phony smile and started over.

As Sorrel walked toward Cynthia, Mildred, the Colonel's wife reached out an arm and stopped her. Putting both hands out, one on each of Sorrel's shoulders she smiled and said, "My, aren't we adorable. You look like a young girl, a debutante, an ingénue, a girl at her first party." Mildred peered in, looking closely at Sorrel's face, "What does that say on your cheek. Let me see." Mildred leaned in for a close look, "Why I do believe it says chattel. Are you someone's chattel Sorrel dear?"

Sorrel answered in a low tone, almost a whisper, "Yes."

Mildred said, "Speak up dear. What did you say? Are you someone's property?"

Sorrel answered again more clearly, "Yes I am."

Mildred gave her an acidic smile. She despised anyone who'd try to injure her husband, "Well tell me. Whose property are you?"

Sorrel looked down and away. How was she going to get through this? "I'm the property of the firm Mrs. Hanson."

Mildred beamed, "Oh what a good little girl. I'm going to have to use you sometime. Do you do laundry?"

Sorrel looked at Mrs. Hanson 'this is what they plan to do with me, humiliate me at every chance', "I'll do whatever you tell me to do."

For the moment Mildred was satisfied, "That's a good girl; you treasonous little tart. Now run along. I think Mrs. Hammer wanted to talk to you."

Sorrel walked as quickly as she could toward Cynthia Hammer. She didn't want to be stopped and go through something like that again. She reached Cynthia, "I'm here Cynthia. I was stopped by Mildred Hanson."

Cynthia gave her a sickly sweet condescending smile, "Speak only when you're spoken to Sorrel, and I'm Mrs. Hammer. Mildred over there is Mrs. Hanson to you."

Sorrel blanched. She didn't like being talked down to, and certainly didn't like the idea of referring to these women as Mrs. this or Mrs. that. However, she held her true feelings in. She'd get through this, and she'd get even in time, "Yes Mrs. Hammer. I'm sorry I spoke out of turn, and I'm sorry I was too familiar."

Cynthia gave her a sweet but completely artificial smile, "That's so much better dear. I do like my people to be appropriately polite. I saw you over at the food table. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

Sorrel answered, "I haven't had much to eat today, and yes I am hungry."

Cynthia said, "Go over to the food table, fix a plate and bring it over here. We'll eat together."

Sorrel gave Cynthia her the most obsequious look she could muster, "Yes, thank you. I'll be right back." She promptly turned and walked to the food table. Taking a paper plate she filled it with some of the foods that still remained uneaten. She then turned and walked to where Cynthia was seated. Upon reaching Cynthia she sat the plate on the table beside her. Not knowing what to do next Sorrel waited.

Cynthia took the plate, turned to Sorrel and said, "Here sit beside me on the grass. I'll feed you."

Sorrel was furious but refused to let Cynthia see it. Remembering Fletcher's warning she knelt carefully on the soft, now damp grass.

Cynthia looked over the morsels on the plate and selected a piece of cheese. With a great show and deliberate movement Cynthia leaned forward and held the piece of cheese out to Sorrel's mouth, "Here dear. Have a piece of cheese."

Sorrel took the cheese in her mouth and began to chew.

Cynthia said to Sorrel, "My, this is fun. It's kind of like having one's own little puppy dog. Here, have a piece of roll." She tore off a piece of roll and held it out toward Sorrel's mouth.

Sorrel took the piece of roll in her mouth.

Piece by piece Cynthia slowly fed Sorrel the food that was on the plate. While she fed her Charles's girlfriend Denise and Pearce's wife Collette came over. They watched as Cynthia made a great show of feeding Sorrel each and every little smidgen of food.

"What's that written on her cheek?" asked Collette.

Cynthia looked down at Sorrel, "Oh, I hadn't noticed. What does it say Sorrel?"

Sorrel answered, "It says chattel."

Denise spoke up, "Doesn't that mean something like slave?"

Both Cynthia and Collette said nothing but looked at Sorrel. Cynthia was smiling broadly.

Sorrel answered, "Yes. It means the same thing as being owned."

"Well whose property are you dear?" Cynthia asked.

Sorrel answered, "I belong to the firm."

Collette giggled, "We own the firm. That means you belong to us. I'm going to have to get you to baby-sit for me. Would you like to do that?"

Sorrel; wondering where Fletcher was, looked neither to the right nor to the left. She said in a flat voice, "Yes, if that's what you want me to do."

Denise interjected, "Hey, I'm just the girlfriend. Are you required to do what I say?"

Sorrel answered, "Yes, I think so."

Cynthia took Sorrel's chin and pulled her face up so she had to look her right in the eyes, "What do you mean yes? You mean yes ma'am don't you."

Sorrel looked right back at Cynthia, "Yes ma'am."

Cynthia said, "Yes ma'am what?"

Sorrel answered, "Yes ma'am. As long as you're the girlfriend I have to do what you say."

Denise laughed, "Oh this is great." She leaned forward and reached her hand out and touched Sorrel's cheek, "You're pretty. You're like a pretty little girl. That's a cute little outfit you have on. I like those little panties you have on under that little skirt, and the blouse is so sweet." Denise reached forward further. She cupped Sorrel's face in both hands. Moving her hands back and forth ever so carefully she said, "You're a real little cutie; like a little girl. I like little girls. We're going to have a lot of fun, you and me."

Sorrel felt like she was going to be sick. She had to get away. Wanting to run, but knowing Fletcher was watching somewhere she said the only thing she could think of, "I have to go to the bathroom. May I be excused?"

The three women looked at each other and then back at Sorrel.

Sorrel was feeling desperate, "May I be excused, please?"

Denise spoke first, "Of course you may go to the bathroom." Denise stood up and held out her hand, "Here let me walk you to the toilet."

Sorrel thought, 'Oh. Jesus. She thinks I want to go someplace with her. The woman's a dike.' Sorrel glanced around looking for Fletcher but he wasn't anywhere to be seen; Sorrel stood up. It didn't matter. She knew he was watching from someplace. Taking her hand she said, "Thank you ma'am."

Denise took Sorrel's hand and walked her to the bathroom. As they walked away all the people watched.

Collette was thinking, 'what a nice little ass Sorrel has, and she liked the way she seemed to sashay as she walked. It was cute.' She kept thinking, 'little Sorrel doesn't know it, but Denise is only a 'bi', it's me she'll have to have to look out for.' Collette bet that nice little ass would look really great with a few bright red stripes across it. 'Yeah, Sorrel and she were going to have some real fun one of these days.'

Denise and Sorrel walked hand in hand to the bathroom. Actually it was Denise who was holding Sorrel's hand. Sorrel was mortified. She wished she was anywhere but where she was.

They got to the bathroom and Denise told Sorrel, "OK. Sorrel let me see you pull your panties down."

Sorrel reached to the side of her skirt and started to undo the buttons when Denise held up her hand and said, "No wait. I'll do that."

Sorrel stopped and Denise took over. She moved as close to Sorrel as she could and still undo the skirt. She reached forward and undid each button, one at a time. Then she pulled the belt apart. She smiled, "Boy that Florence is a clever one. You know it was Florence who purchased all the clothing you'll be wearing from now on. She's a perverted old witch."

Sorrel stood there trying not to cringe.

Denise went on; breathing heavy, hands a little jittery, trying to control her emotions. She pulled Sorrel's panties down to her knees, "Wow Sorrel you have a beautiful little snatch." Denise reached down with her right hand and made as if to fiddle with Sorrel's private area but averted her fingers at the last second. Instead she softly touched the tops of the woman's thighs. She wanted to rub between her legs, in her privacy area, but was becoming so nervous it was hard to control her actions.

She looked at Sorrel's face and saw her soft red lips. What she wanted to do was wrap her arms around this woman and kiss her, but she knew this girl wasn't ready. As an alternative she softly rubbed up and down the insides of Sorrel's upper thighs. She tickled Sorrel's navel. She took a finger and pushed inside her navel, "You like that don't you."

Sorrel swallowed hard; keeping her head facing away, "I don't like to be touched."

Looking into Sorrel's face closely Denise could tell she was as heterosexual as they come. "I bet you're wet Sorrel. You like this don't you." She made as if she were going to reach down and touch where her secret place was, "Let me touch you Sorrel."

Sorrel had no desire to be touched by anyone, let alone this person. Her whole world was being ruined this afternoon, and what this woman was suggesting would have been unwelcome anytime, but especially not today, "Please." I'm not like that. I don't do sexual things with anyone. I don't like it."

"Are you sure?" Asked Denise

Sorrel stood motionless, but still had the courage to put up her hands to block any more advances by Denise, "Please; all I want to do is pee."

Denise moved close to Sorrel and gave her a tentative kiss on the lips, "Didn't you like that?"

"Please no, I'm not that way. Can't I just pee?" Sorrel was afraid; afraid of Denise and what she might say to Fletcher. She didn't like to be touched by men; she certainly didn't like women to touch her. Sorrel refused to respond. She refused to react.

Denise pressed a hand against the frightened woman's cheek, "Now Sorrel, if you're going to be a good girl you're going to have to try harder than that." Denise leaned forward and kissed Sorrel again.

What Denise was doing with the kissing was doing nothing for Sorrel except to terrorize her, but she'd gotten the message. If she displeased Denise, Fletcher might find out, and in her mind, he was becoming more like the anti-Christ every second that ticked by. Sorrel kissed back, but she was shivering when she did it and tears were moistening the corners of her eyes.

Denise pulled her into her arms and started to kiss Sorrel in earnest. She took her right hand and pressed it against her rear end. She took her left hand and started to gently rub the side of Sorrel's left breast over the blouse. She stopped, "Let's get that blouse off Sorrel honey."

Sorrel leaned back against the wall as far as she could go, "No, please." She made another pathetic attempt to push the other woman's hands away.

Denise started to unbutton Sorrel's blouse. She undid the ribbons on her shoulder sleeves, and she started to unfastened the buttons. Pulling the blouse apart she gave Sorrel's breasts a good long look through the chemise, "They're not as big as I thought they'd be, but they're nice anyway." She kept rubbing the side of Sorrel's left breast, while she took her right hand and gently squeezed the terrified woman's ass.

Sorrel was getting ready to pee. She had to do something to stop Denise, "Denise please I have to go to the bathroom!"

Denise stopped what she was doing; looked at Sorrel and frowned, "What did I hear you say?"

Sorrel spoke again, "I'm so sorry ma'am. May I please go to the bathroom? I feel like I'm going to burst."

Denise smiled, "That's so much nicer. Sure sweetie you go ahead and pee. I'll just stand here and watch."

Sorrel was shocked. Denise wanted to watch. Her humiliation couldn't get much worse. Well, there was nothing to do but go. She stepped back into the bathroom, squatted on the toilet and peed.

Denise watched intently; listening for the droplets of pee hitting the water in the bowl. When Sorrel seemed to be finished Denise said, "Here, let me wipe you." Denise took some of the toilet tissue and reached to touch Sorrel's vagina.

Sorrel held her hand up; pushing Denise away, "No I can do it."

From outside the pool house Denise and Sorrel heard the Colonel call out, "Ladies, everyone is getting ready to leave. We want Sorrel to come out and say good bye to all her guests."

Denise was pissed; she'd been thwarted at the last minute, "Oh damn. Well at least let me redress you. She slowly pulled Sorrel's panties back up, caressing each leg as she did. She refastened the belt and redid the skirt buttons.

She re-tightened the ribbons on the other woman's blouse sleeves. Then she pulled Sorrel's blouse back together, making sure the backs of her hands rubbed against each breast as she did. She buttoned everything back one button at a time, slowly and deliberately. Her breath hot and heavy on Sorrel's face and neck; she stepped back, "There, good, you're as good as new, just like the pretty little girl who came in." She leaned forward and gave Sorrel a kiss on the cheek, "Now thank me."

Sorrel looked at Denise, blushing for what seemed like the hundredth time, "That you ma'am."

Denise held out her hand, "Let me take you back to the group."

Sorrel took Denise's hand and followed her from the pool house. As they walked Denise whispered back to Sorrel, "Next time you won't get away; we'll have all night."

Sorrel answered, "I can hardly wait."

The Nadir:

When the two women got back outside they saw everyone was gathered around in a big circle. The Colonel walked forward and pulled Sorrel to the center, "Kneel down please."

Sorrel thought, 'how polite everyone was.'

Sorrel knelt on the grass while everyone else stood around her. Steve and Cynthia stood arm in arm, kissing, Cynthia was quietly laughing.

The Colonel was standing beside his wife looking very somber, very dignified like an Eighteenth Century judge having just passed sentence on a murderess. His wife Mildred had a look of glassy eyed hatred; perhaps it was hate, but it might have been the expensive bourbon she drank.

Denise was leaning against her boyfriend Charles, while he stared at Sorrel like she was a piece of fresh sirloin. He made her cringe.

Fletcher was there too, standing off in the distance and outside the circle. He seemed indifferent to everything going on. Sorrel thought that's probably like him; he's making a list of things he can do to further hurt and humiliate me.

Pearce, his wife Gwyneth, and his sister Hannah were standing by. They looked bored.

Sorrel thought; her life was ruined, and they were bored. Then she saw Florence. Sorrel had never seen such malevolence. Sorrel wondered what she ever done to inspire so much meanness. Not even the worst financial scandal could justify the hatred she saw in that face.

From afar Sorrel had been able to exert enough self control to immunize herself from the endless sea of hostility she saw confronting her, but as she drew closer the hateful glares, sadistic grins, and lascivious smirks consumed her will.

Each step closer chiseled away a little more self esteem. She broke. Her face involuntarily twisted into a tightly drawn raw caricature of its real beauty. Overcome with anguish, she burst into tears.

Her tears, her degradation, her helplessness was greeted with laughter, with mirthless jeers. She looked from face to hate filled face. These had been her peers, her colleagues just days before. How could they do this? Only Fletcher looked away, but she could see the distaste, disgust written there.

Sorrel knelt on the ground looking from person to person to person. She had to recover her aplomb. One of the people out there knew she was innocent. Which one she wondered; somehow she had to find out.

The Colonel started to speak, "Ladies and gentlemen what we have here is a failure. She's a failed businesswoman. She a failure as a mother, and a she's a pathetic failure as a human being."

He went on, "Sorrel look at yourself. There you kneel surrounded by people who once trusted you; people who once valued your opinions and ideas. Now you kneel before all of us, a true inferior. You're no longer a human being. You're what the word says that's on your cheek. You're chattel. You're property. You're an object, a piece of flesh with which we can and will do whatever we want. You're trash!"

He was getting wound up. "Sorrel what do you think would happen if those children you abandoned ever found out they had a mother, and that she was a worthless piece of garbage? Do you think they would love you? I doubt it. They'd see you for what you really are, a whore, a snide bitch, and a strumpet who finally got caught. Tell us Sorrel what do you have to say for yourself?"

Cynthia maliciously chimed in, "Sorrel what would you say to your children?"

Florence added her malevolent two cents worth, "What would you say if we brought your children here and introduced them to their mother and told them what kind of person she really was?"

Mildred threw more gasoline on the fire, "I can't imagine anyone more degraded than someone who would abandon two small children. What kind of woman could ever do something like that? Sorrel would you tell us, what would you do if we brought your children out here right now?"

Sorrel knelt at the center of the circle, on the grass, in her little skirt and blouse set. The afternoon sun had reddened her naturally pale complexion. Now she felt sore and gravelly. She felt the damp grass get colder as she knelt there. She looked down at the buttons that held her blouse together. Her breasts pressed against the filmy chemise causing the buttons to gape. In the cooler air her nipples were visible through the thin material of blouse and chemise. She could feel the panties pressing into her crotch. It felt gritty.

She thought of her children. She thought of her abandoned life as a mother. The waist belt was too tight, and the beribboned sleeves were chaffing her upper arms. She wished she were dead. She prayed that she would die at that very moment. Hell couldn't be any worse.

It was all just too much for a woman who'd broken no laws save the laws of motherhood; the most important laws of all. She burst into tears. Once they started they poured out like ash from an erupting volcano. She didn't try to hide her feelings. She couldn't hide them. She was ashamed. She wasn't ashamed for getting caught trying to rob the company; that never happened. She was ashamed for what she'd done years before.