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."

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At that moment, across town . . .

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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.

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A little while later . . .

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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."