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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 parents 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 an 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. 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 none the less. 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 altercated 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. ------------------- --------------- 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. ------------ ------------------- 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 lay 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 . . . ------------ -------------- <Ring> <Ring> <Ring> ‘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?" "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. 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