Twenty Years to Life Ch. 01

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The following Friday . . .

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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.

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Out in the parking lot . . .

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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.

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Out in the car . . .

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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.