This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.
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The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author's permission.
This story takes place in the entirely fictional city of Springfield, California, so don't go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD's, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex.
Also, although this story (and subsequent chapters) are placed in the "Novels and Novellas" category, that is primarily because no other single category made any more sense. This overall storyline has some aspects of group sex, interracial sex, lesbian sex, heterosexual sex, anal sex, as well as BDSM sexual activity. If any of these types of activities bother you, you might want to stop reading now.
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"Twenty Years to Life" Part 3
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Torrie and Rachel were sitting at opposite ends of the sofa in Torrie's above-garage apartment. Rachel looked somewhat stunned, and Torrie was nervously biting her bottom lip. She had just leveled with her best friend about something. Five months earlier, Torrie had entered into a sexual relationship with Isabel Turner, and it was a relationship of bondage and submission. Two months earlier, their relationship had become public knowledge after a lingering neuro-psychological disorder had almost resulted in Torrie's death. While a combination of medication and exercise had helped restore Torrie's state of mind to where it was supposed to be, she had still felt bad about keeping her relationship with Isabel a secret from Rachel, even though the couple had their reasons for secrecy. Isabel and Torrie had discussed the issue, and had finally decided to come clean about the nature of their relationship with close friends. They didn't want people to get concerned if Torrie started acting a little strangely from time to time.
Torrie hoped that Rachel would be able to handle knowing what she suddenly knew. They were an interesting pair; Torrie was a California surfer girl with pink hair, while Rachel was a black girl with big breasts and an attitude to match. They had lived down the street from each other for many years before Torrie's parents had found a better place, and the two of them had been going to the same schools since they were kids.
"You . . . like this sort of stuff?" Rachel asked.
"More than chocolate," Torrie said. "I wanted to tell you for a long time. It was just hard. I didn't want you to think I was weak or anything. Then I stopped caring and . . . well, you know the rest."
"Damn, could you be just a little normal?" Rachel said, then wished she hadn't. Torrie had visibly blanched. "Torrie, I didn't mean it like that. I mean . . . first, you're ungodly smart, but you hate school. Then you told me you were gay. Now, you like being tied up and whipped . . ."
"No whips," Torrie muttered. "They're a little too dangerous, and they leave these marks . . ."
"NOT the point," Rachel said. "And I've seen you together, but I've never seen her ordering you around like that."
"We have rules now. She wanted us to be a normal couple sometimes, so we came up with times and places that she can't command me. And she wanted me to start spending more time with you guys again. I wanted to spend more time with you guys. I hate saying this," Torrie said, her eyes teary, "but I can't do this all on my own. I'm scared of what might happen if I start to slip again . . ."
"That won't happen," Rachel said vehemently. "We won't let it."
"But I want you guys in my life, but I want Isabel too, and I want what she and I have now. And I want you to understand that."
Rachel shrugged then smirked. "Torrie, I'm NEVER going to understand you. That's what makes you so fuckin' fun. You don't need my permission to be a freak. Hell, I'm the LAST one who should be bein' critical of someone else for stuff like that. So where is your 'mistress' anyway?"
Torrie smiled, pouncing down the sofa and hugging her friend. "She's STILL mending bridges with an old friend. Her name is Janine. She and Isabel had a thing back in high-school."
"Doesn't that make you jealous?"
"Not really. Both of them are sort of ostracized from their old friends now that their secrets are out. Besides, Janine's cute and Isabel may give me to her for a while as a peace offering . . ."
"Get OUT! You do that shit?"
"Outside of this room and under a few other circumstances, I'll do ANYTHING she tells me to."
"God, I can only fuckin' IMAGINE what Jeremy would do if he knew."