Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Author: calylia Title: S3 Part: Chapter 2 Universe: Lemonade Paradise Summary: the slow and consensual corruption of a conservative country girl to be a sex worker. Keywords: M_solo, humil, voy, ws Created: 11/23/2003 Last Modified: 12/07/2003 (v0.2) This story contains adult material. if you're under legal age where you live, or you are offended by materials that alludes to sex and sexual practices, you should stop reading before the dotted line below ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Copyrights and Information The story, and the characters here in this story is purely fictional; any similarity to actual persons and/or events are strictly coincidental. If you would like to borrow one of the characters from Lemonade Paradise to work with, please contact me first. You can re-distribute this story to your friends and family as long as it is not altered in anyway, electronically or otherwise. However, as most of my stories are still in draft form, it would be best if you directed them back to the original site for the latest version: /~calylia/ This story can not be included in any compliation or website without express permission from me. If you think my story is good enough to be put on your website, then at least take the effort to contact me. please send all requests and comments tothe contact form at: /~calylia/ i appreciate all comments and feedback! p.s. yes, i know this story is a bit shallow and pretentious. i just wanted to do something quick and fun. although, "quick" isn't exactly happening right now. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ It was not as much that Patti disliked her roomate as that she feels that she did not understand her. Sometimes your mother and I get into fights too, her aunt Helen use to say, because she does not understand the sort of woman I am. Your Aunt Helen is nothing but a skank, you hear me? Her mother use to say. Seduced your poor Uncle Jesse out of his mind. Poor virtuous Jesse, I bet he would roll in his grave if he knew what she does. And when she understands what it means to be a woman, Aunt Helen use to say, she will understand me, and won't hate me any more. Patti always believed that misunderstandings were the root of all failed relationships, and tried hard to get along with everyone. This, being her first year away from home, and attending college in the big city, was the perfect time to test out her theory. Muttering to herself, she thought about her decision to move here with a small twinge of regret. Her friends were all envious, of course, making Patti promise to send home pictures of cute guys she meets. Her mother was against it, naturally. You're just like your father, She said, Running out on me. After all, it was her Aunt Helen's idea. Now, she juggles her studies with two part time jobs to make ends meet. After her afternoon classes, she has to rush to the video store for the midnight shift, and on the weekends, she tutors immigrant students. With what little time she has to herself, when she is home, she has to deal with Tricia, the selfish glamour queen. Why couldn't Tricia just be considerate and take her feelings into account? Sitting on the toilet, Patti gave the water below an angry squirt, is it too much to expect the use of the facilities after I comes home? She turned to get some toilet paper, only to find there was none left. Patti fumed. Ugh, that Tricia, couldn't even take ten measly seconds to get a new roll of toilet paper. Lifting her bum slightly, Patti waddled the best as she could with her pants around her ankles towards the storage area below the sink. "I can't believe this!" Patti said out loud, and with good reason, too. There was no toilet paper underneath the sink either. Patti fumed. What is she going to do now? Shuffling back to the toilet, she was about to sit down again when she spotted something white in the corner. Curious, she found that it was the pair of panties she had changed out of earlier, but balled up and soaked. That's strange, Patti thought, I could've sworn I put it inside the hamper. Tricia must have taken it out by accident and gotten it all wet while she was taking a shower. That is so like her, so inconsiderate and irrespectful of other people's property. Suddenly, a naughty thought came to her mind; she's going to take revenge on Tricia. Grinning openly, she walked over to Tricia's hamper and opened it up. After rummaging for a bit through fashionable clothing and too-tiny-panties, she found what she was looking for; Tricia's favourite pillowcase was pastel blue in colour and made of velvet. This oughta teach you some manners, Patti thought. Taking the pillowcase with her right hand, she held one end to her crotch and wiped. Patti gasped audibly. No being able to afford anything other than cotton, Patti's groin had never had contact with something so soft as velvet. Furthermore, her wiping movement, combined with the soft friction of the pillowcase, pushed the hood of her womanhood up and smothered her hidden button with sensation. Looking down, she could see a small wet streak across pillowcase. Wow, she thought, I'm going to do it again. That annoying Tricia. She wiped again, taking in the the pleasant sensations. Not satisfied with only one hand, Tricia stood up and placed the pillowcase between her legs. Pulling up slightly with both hands, the pillowcase now covered her from her navel in the front to her tailbone in the back. She experiemented by moving her hands in an up and down motion, like she was flossing between her legs. The senstaions were incredible; this time she could not help but moan. The pillow case rubbed against her entire crotch this time, from her inner thighs, to the sensitive skin between her legs, and up to the top of her buttocks. The pillowcase stretched and made its way into her bum crack, tickling her anus. Trying to get more feeling from her experiment, Patti kicked off her pants and panties and spread her legs farther apart. Feeling the need for lubrication, her body began to produce secretions. The velvet pillowcase became slick and darkened with her efforts, making wet noises with every flossing motion. Her reverie was broken by the beeping of her wrist watch, reminding her that the last possible second for her to leave for work and be on time has come and gone, and here she was, standing half naked in the washroom, with her legs spread obscenely and rubbing her roomate's dirty pillowcase between her legs. Stopping regretfully, she took the pillowcase in her hands. Being light blue, the front part of the pillowcase was darkened with moisture. Patti sheepishly notes that there were some light brown streaks on the other end. Throwing the soiled pillowcase into her roomates hamper, she hurriedly put on her clothes. There was one more errand she had to finish before she could go to work, and Patti was definitely not looking forward to it. "Tricia, open up," She knocked on the door, "I have to go to work soon." Patti put her head on the door, try to listen for some sign of life. Student accomodations being what they were, the walls and doors were paper thin. She could hear a constant buzzing noise and heavy breathing, mixed with an occassional grunt. "Tricia," Patti pounded the door, "C'mon, I'm already late!" The door was opened by a flushed Tricia, her blond hair in disarray, and still wearing the bath towel from before. "What is it now?" Tricia sighed exasperatingly. "It's the 30th today," Patti tried to be as patient as she could, "and we have to pay the rent tomorrow, so I'll need your share by tonight." Tricia groaned inwardly. She had completely forgotten about the rent. Even with all the savings from the bank and friends she could hit on for a loan, she most likely would not be able to do it. Unlike Patti, Tricia had no fixed income, per se. Once a month, she gets a modest living allowance from her parents working abroad. However, the money is usually gone by the end of the month, spent on clothes and fancy resturants. What is she going to do? Ignorant of her roomates troubles, Patti had her own concerns to deal with. Although she is usually quite punctual, her boss is unsympathetic when it comes to lateness. Today was no exception. As soon as she walked in the door of the store, Mr. Davis stood up from his seat behind the cash register, arms crossed in disapproval. Mr. Davis was as surly as he was homely, and he was one of the surliest men Patti had ever met. He was a man of hypocracy; he never holds the high standards the holds for his staff to himself, for if he did, he would have fired himself a long time ago. As the manager of the store, he wields his power with sadistic glee, often overstepping his boundaries as an employer no because he had to or wanted to, but simply because he can; torturing the minimum wage workers in his store from his high seat. "You are five minutes late by my watch, Patti," Mr. Davis greeted her. "I'm sorry, Mr. Davis, it won't happen again, sir." Patti apologized profusely. She knew that the worse has yet to come. "In the five minutes you were not here, I have served three customers and made money for the store," Mr. Davis sneered contemptuously, "and what have you done in the last five minutes?" "I ... nothing, sir." Patti looked down on the floor, afraid to meet his gaze. "I'm taking these five minutes off your paycheque," Mr. Davis took out a pen and wrote in his little black book, "I see by my book that you haven't been a good employee, Patti." Patti fumed inside. She had been the best employee she could, if not by Mr. Davis' meddling. The last time she got in trouble for spilling a can of soda over a several recently returned cassette tapes. In actuality, Mr. Davis had left his can of soda on the slanted cash register, where it slowly slide off. Seeing it at the last moment, Patti dove forward to catch the can of soda, only for it to soak through her uniform shirt, and inevitibly, on some of the cassette tapes. If not for Patti, more cassettes would have been damaged. Mr. Davis, however, would not let Patti go and change her uniform, and she was forced to spend the rest of the evening with a large stain over her chest. She had never been so embarassed in her life; the cheap uniform shirt had turned translucent, showing everyone the white bra that she had been wearing that evening. The time before that, she had left the station briefly to wash her hands. Patti was assigned to check the returned adult tapes; one of Mr. Davis' sadistic ideas to force Patti to not only handle pornographic material, but those which were often used and unclean. Patti always felt disgusted by white fingerprints smeared over the video and DVD cases; it was worse when they were actually on the media. Nevertheless, Patti got a long lecture about leaving the cash register unwatched while she went to wash her hands. "This is the third time this week you have neglected to follow store policy, Patti," Mr. Davis looked at Patti with accusing eyes, "and you have only been here for two weeks. One more screwup and I'm going to have to let you go, Patti. Do I make myself clear?" "Yes, sir," Patti said to the ground, afraid to meet his gaze. She needs this job to help pay her rent, and tomorrow is pay day "Good," Mr. Davis sniffed, "A patron made a mess downstairs earlier this evening. Go clean it up while I watch the cash, and it'd better be clean when I go back down there. I'm not going to count this towards your work time, since I'm covering for you. I'll start when you're done." Saying this, Mr. Davis walked back to his seat by the cash register. Patti felt torn. On one hand, it would be a relief to be free from this store. On the other hand, there are very few jobs that have hours that fit in to her academic schedule. This was one of the last jobs she was qualified for and fit her time slot. Sighing to herself, she went to the closet and brought out the cleaning supplies and a pair of rubber gloves. She knew the 'nature' of the 'mess' downstairs. Patti grew up on the farm, and had many opportunities to watch animals mate. She knew what semen was, and what function it serves. She could never figure out why men would want to waste their semen on sterile floors instead of saving it. On the other hand, she could not understand why women masturbate either. She had tried on many occasions but felt nothing spectacular when it did happen. That's because you're pre-orgasmic, her Aunt Helen use to say, and it's okay. Some girls just aren't developed in that way yet, that's all. When you become orgasmic, I'm sure you'll know what I'm talking about. Back on the floor above her, Mr. Davis had hung a sign on the door. Scrawled on the sign in barely legible writing were the words "Be Back in 15 minutes." Walking back to the cash counter, Mr. Davis sat down. Although the cash counter was sufficiently far away from the front door that nobody could see what he was about to do from the outside, he did not want any stray patrons to come in and disturb him. Mr. Davis grinned to himself and turned his attention to the glowing monitors before him. Security cameras covered the entire store, especially the basement section, where the adult materials were displayed. Monitor two showed a broad view of the basement. Shelf after shelf of adult media filled the room. The shelves were not too high as to obstruct the view of the camera, but not too low that patrons had to bend over to find what they wanted. Posters of porn stars sprawled out in various poses decorated the walls, while a small television set in the far wall displayed the 'Pick of the Week'. Earlier that evening, Mr. Davis had been masturbating to the 'Pick of the Week'; a story about the employer of a college student blackmails her to be his sex slave. In his excitement, Mr. Davis had forgotten to bring down the roll of toilet paper he usually brought to clean up. At first, Mr. Davis was dismayed, trying to decide whether he should stop or not. When he realized that Patti was coming in for the next shift, he decided to ejaculate on the floor and make her clean it up. That idea excited him even more than before, and when his penis spasmed out its load, it sprayed all over, making it as hard to clean as possible. Now, sitting behind the cash register, Mr. Davis eased his semi-hard penis out of his pants, intently watching the monitor, in anticipation of Patti's entrance. She took a look at the 'mess', it was obvious that someone had sprayed ejaculate all over the glass display with the DVDS. Sighing to herself, she kneeled down and started scrubbing away. Patti's train of thought remained on the topic of masturbation. Patti looked at the shelves around her; the shelves were full of videos and dvds that she had organized last week. It was one of the first jobs Mr. Davis assigned her. She knew that there is a lot of masturbation going on in the videos, from just glancing at the covers and the back. Was masturbation really that good, or were the actresses in there faking it? The lesbian features also puzzled her. The girls really looked like they were enjoying themselves, but she could not understand why. Anal pentration looked painful, watersports looked dirty, and cunningus looked like it tastes bad. Something for everyone, I guess, she thought to herself while mixing the cleaning solution. Her mine floated back to the events earlier this evening; was she becoming orgasmic like her Aunt Helen had said? It did feel good, she thought with a blush, I wonder what would happen if I kept on going? Her body also remembered. Her memory of the exprience brought shivers down her spine, and she felt a startling warmth flowing through her, culmulating at her crotch. Unknown to Patti, Mr. Davis had installed a new camera in the basement. With the ability to swivel and zoom, nothing escaped the new electronic eye and its penetrating gaze. Zooming in on Patti with one hand, Mr. Davis pumped his penis furiously with his other hand. From the back, it looked as if Patti was cleaning the display with her face. Yes, Mr. Davis closed his eyes, clean up my cum with your tongue, and then give it a good polish with your tits. The vision of what Patti would look like, with her face covered in ejaculate and her shirt similarly soaked, such that her braless nipples stood out in the translucense was too much for Mr. Davis. He came again forcefully, drenching his hand in his own juices. "I'm done, Mr. Davis", Patti said as she walked towards the cash register. Mr. Davis realized with a start that while he was preoccupied, Patti had already finished and came upstairs, while his hand was still around his penis, covered in sticky ejaculate. Thankfully, the cash counter covered him from all sides, so Patti was not rudely surprised. However, that leaves Mr. Davis very little choice in terms of cleaning up. He had originally planned to get to the employee washroom and back before she got back up. "That's, er, good, Patti," Mr. Davis stammered, "Now go do those returns." He pointed vaguely at the return box at the front. "Yes, sir," Patti replied, walking towards the front of the store. With her farther away, Mr. Davis removed his sticky hand from his penis, trying to find a place to wipe. He was wearing black turtleneck and black pants; any white stains on his clothes would instantly give him away. With his clean hand, he rummaged through the cash counter, trying to find a towel or tissue that he could wipe his hands on. "Can I help you find something, Mr. Davis?" Patti looked over the counter at him. Startled, Mr. Davis lost his balance and fell backwards. Struggling to regain his balance, he reached out and stabled himself with the chair he was sitting on. "No, mind your own business," Mr. Davis snapped, annoyed to be interrupted, "weren't you suppose to check the return box?" "Yes sir," Patti replied demurely, slightly taken back by the hostility, "but it's empty." Mr. Davis cursed himself inwardly; he had cleaned out the box before she arrived. "Well go take that sign down from the front door then," Mr. Davis pointed to the door, "and get ready for your shift." Patti nodded and walked back towards the front of the store. What am I going to do, Mr. Davis thought to himself. Looking down, he realized that his dirty hand was the one that stablized him, and he had grabbed the seat of the chair. The gluey white substance flowed from his hands and on to the seat. Oh no, he thought, how am I going to explain this? The pervert in him, however, took over. Patti was going to sit in the chair, His mind exclaimed, Patti is going to sit on your cum! Mr. Davis wiped his hand on the chair even more, rubbing his ejaculate into the fabric. With that thought in mind, his flaccid penis started to respond again, and he was painfully in need of release. Looks like I've still got it, Mr. Davis thought to himself. "Patti," Mr. Davis yelled to the front of the store, "I'm going to go to the washroom. You stay here and get ready to do the cash. It's your shift now." "Okay Mr. Davis," Patti waved back. Grinning to himself, he walked to the washroom for another round.