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.

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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.

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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.

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Across town . . .

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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.