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Message-ID: <37008asstr$1024780201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: juliancoreto@operamail.com (Julian Coreto)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 22 Jun 2002 03:36:47 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Alan, Chapter 13
Date: Sat, 22 Jun 2002 17:10:01 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

"You look fantastic! Stunning!"

"Thanks, Mom," Pauline answered, blushing furiously.  It was the
afternoon before the prom, and Pauline was at the salon.  Mrs. Van
Devanter had been ferrying her daughters about town all morning and
afternoon.  Kate was at the dressmaker's, which was Pauline's next
stop.  Mom was going to take Pauline there and drop Kate off in
exchange back at this salon.

Her usually billowing light-brown hair was up, held by lavender
ribbons and the better half of a can of hairspray.  Her fingernails
and toenails were lacquered to match the hair ribbons.  After some
last-minute hemming and stitching her dress would be ready, also the
same color.  She was giddy with anticipation.

This was all a bit new for her; she had never been a satin and lace
type of girl.  No tomboy her, but she hadn't really been one to doll
it up very often.  She preferred comfort to coture; not that she was
ever indifferent to her appearance.  Rather she strove to find the
happy medium between form and function, favoring nice skirts and
pants, pretty blouses, eschewing short skirts and clingy tops.  But
for the prom she went whole hog: a spaghetti-strap dress, open-toe
shoes (dyed to match), this ultra-feminine hairstyle, and the nail
polish.

* * *

"Gorgeous! Absolutely Gorgeous!" James Van Devanter enthused as his
two daughters down the staircase.  Pauline was resplendent in her
lavender dress.  It was low-cut and tapered to the waist.  The bottom
was separate, a knee length skirt under a pale translucent ankle
length piece which sort of resembled a sarong.  It wasn't your typical
prom dress, and that was what she wanted.  Kate was wearing a more
traditional dress, a pastel yellow off the shoulder number, tailored
up top to hug her lush figure, cut very low in the back, the hem
coming to her mid-calf.  Her hair was French braided and up, two
yellow bakelite barrettes holding them in place.  Mrs. Van Devanter
had helped them with their makeup, and they both seemed to glow. 
Their dad was clicking away like a half-crazed paparazzo.

Alan and Chad, waiting in the living room, came out upon hearing the
fuss.  They had spent the last twenty minutes or so successfully
avoiding conversation.  Chad had barely said two words to him since
that day, weeks ago, when he confided in his counselor.  After he
pissed himself a few times he realized that it was pointless to try to
tell anyone about what was happening between Kate and Alan.  The most
embarrassing time was when he had shown up at the Van Devanter's
knowing that Kate was not home.  The reason he was sure Kate wasn't
home was because he had just dropped her off at Alan's.

* * *

It was a late-May Saturday night, the weekend before Memorial Day
weekend.  They had been out on a date, a teen social at the country
club; Kate's cell phone rang just as he had returned from the punch
bowl with two glasses.  Kate was on her cell phone, and he could tell,
just from her side of the conversation to whom she was speaking.

"Yes, Master." Pause. "i'll be right over, Master." Pause. "Yes, he's
right here.  We're still at the club, Master." Pause. "No wonder You
and Pauline left early." Giggle.  "i'm sure she was good, she is my
kid sister, after all."  Throaty laugh, then calmly, "Yes, Master, we
came in his car." Pause.  Giggle. A look from her which made him feel
like the lowest form of life on the Planet Earth, followed by a
short--yet derisive--laugh, which he was sure came at his expense. 
"i'll see You soon." She hit the end button, terminating the call.

"Pity," she said to him, sighing wistfully.  "I was hoping to stay
till the end of the dance, but when He calls, I go."  She picked up
her purse and started out.  Try as he might he couldn't resist
following.  As he passed the entrance he spied the trashcan near the
door.  All he had to do was throw his car keys in the trash! Then he
wouldn't be able to take his girlfriend over to Alan Marshall's house,
and that turd wouldn't fuck his pretty little Kate.  In a way he would
be protecting her!

He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the keys, but for some
reason he was unable to grasp them.  Meanwhile he was still incapable
of ceasing his forward progress behind Kate.  He kept jabbing his hand
into his pocket and coming up empty.  Fuck!  Goddamn hands!  What the
fuck is going on?

Kate was waiting at his car, tapping her foot impatiently.  When he
was within five yards of his Beamer he was at last able to fish his
keys out of his pocket, but instead of heaving them into the bushes he
just pressed the electronic button on the fob to pop the locks.  Kate
jumped in and fastened her seatbelt, but he seemed rooted in place,
trying with all his will to keep himself from even opening the door on
his side.  She upbraided him, and his resolve crumbled.

It was a short drive to Marshall's house, and he attempted to talk her
out of going, but she was having none of it.  As he turned onto Alan's
block he was shocked to look at her.  She was touching up her makeup
in the vanity mirror on the visor, and he could see her quivering in
anticipation, her shoulders vibrating, making it harder to work the
lipstick across her mouth evenly.  He cut the engine and gave her a
doleful look.  "Kate, baby, are you sure you want to go in there? You
don't even know what sick and perverted things he's going to do to
you."

She laughed.  The sound of it cut through him like a rusty chainsaw. 
It was a cackle of pure contempt, and it tore him up inside.

She opened the door and started up the path. "Let's go, my Master
wants you to come in, too." she ordered, and he found himself
following her again, right into the house so he could face Alan
Marshall, his humiliation personified.  The haughty puke opened the
door as she approached; he was wearing slippers and a bathrobe.

In the living room Kate fell to her knees, kneeling before him as if
he were a god, which to her he was.  By merely prostrating herself
before him she was becoming aroused, her nipples popping out to press
against the fabric of her dress, her shaven slit slowly secreting
juices, the labia becoming sensitive and puffy. She nuzzled her face
in Alan's groin, enjoying the feel of the soft material of his robe
against her cheek.  Alan reached down and pushed the straps of her
dress off her shoulders, and it fell to her waist.  Her gold nipple
rings sparkled in the light.  He parted his robe and she mewled as he
held the head of his cock against her bright red lips, smearing his
manhood with her lipstick.  She kissed the head lovingly, and then
licked around the crown, savoring the taste of him, greedily lapping
up his pre-come.

Her eyes had been closed, and she had all but forgotten that Chad was
still here when he spoke.

"Alan, please," he whined.  "Do I have to stay here and watch this
shit?"

"Yes.  Shut up.  I'll let you go soon."

Kate's oral skills were fantastic.  She had him fully hard in almost
no time, and in just a few minutes was taking him to the hilt, her
throat stretched out around him, her lips nestling in his pubic hair
as she moved her face forward and back on his shaft.  She was
slobbering profusely and making obscene slurping noises, a curtain of
saliva on her chin and all around her mouth, glistening by the light
of the room, and little droplets of it falling to her chest. 
Periodically she would release him and rub his shaft across her
cheeks, over her neck, and she even leaned forward to swish her glossy
black hair around his crotch; but these were just respites, times she
needed to catch her breath before swallowing him whole again.

Alan moved back to the sofa and pulled Kate along with him.  He sat,
and she crawled up onto the couch on all fours, perpendicular to him,
her mouth quickly covering his erection again.  He reached under her
to rub her pussy.

"You're incredibly wet.  More than usual," he commented wryly.

She lift her mouth off of him, gasping because she had been deep
throating him.  "i like it when you make him watch," she chuckled.

"And you like it when I use you, don't you?"  This was for Chad's
benefit, for he had no doubts that she liked his use of her.  She
demonstrated that every time, in both word and action.

He pulled her up so she was sitting next to him.  "Tell him," he said
softly.  She looked up at her master with questioning eyes, so he
elaborated, "Tell Chad why you ditched the dance and came here at my
order."

She looked over at the pathetic form of her quote-unquote boyfriend. 
He was slouched in a chair, facing them, his eyes downcast.  Alan put
one arm around her shoulder, the hand hanging down and rolling her
nipple and ring through his fingers, causing her to pant gently as she
continued to answer Alan's questions.

"Because You wanted me to come here.  Because You're my Master."

"But why, my little slut," he pressed on, and Chad noticed her quiver
when he called her that, "Why did YOU want to come her tonight?"

"i don't understand," she whimpered, her upper lip tremulous.  "i came
here because You wanted me to.  Isn't that the right answer?"  She
shifted a bit in her seat so she could look at Alan, so she could see
His face and gauge His reaction. She wanted so badly not to displease
Him.

"Did you want to come her because of the sex?" he asked.  His voice
was barely above a whisper, not a decibel more than was needed so that
Chad could hear from where he was seated.

"Yes," she exhaled, beaming at him.

"But there's something more, isn't there?" he asked, leading her on.

"i, i don't know.  i think so. B-but i'm not sure what You are trying
to get me to say, Master.  Please!  Just tell me the words and i'll
say them."  She began to sob lightly, and He took His hands from her
tits and hugged her to Him, holding her firmly in His arms and
caressing her gently until she calmed.

"When I called you just now, when you were at the dance, did it excite
you?"

She nodded.

"When did you begin to get wet?"

"Almost immediately," she cooed.  His gentle hands on her body were
very relaxing and comforting.

"But you said before that you like coming to me, that you liked
serving me, for the way I touch you and use you. Right?"

"Uh huh."  A glimmer of comprehension lit in her eyes.

"But you were already becoming aroused.  Before I touched you.  Before
I used you."  He was running a hand through her long and silky black
hair, and it made her feel extraordinarily kittenish.

"Yes, my pussy was already dripping wet by the time we got to his
car."  She was going to go on, but he stopped her.  He wanted to lead
her to water, not just give her the map.

"Why?  Why were your juices flowing even before you arrived here and I
started using you?"

"Uh, anticipation?"

"OK. Any other reason?" he smiled down on her.

She thought for a bit, chewing her lips as she worked through the
problem.

"Um, reliving memories.  You know, thinking back to the other times
You used me.

"OK, another reasonable answer.  But concentrate now.  Let's review
recent events: One, I called you. Two, you agreed to come her right
away.  Three, your pussy immediately began to get wet, and before very
long was completely soaked."  He paused to let her reflect on that. 
"What were you doing when you pussy began to moisten?"

"i was walking to the car."

"But in a broader sense, what were you doing right then and there. 
Don't answer right away, give it some thought."  She went back to
absently chewing her lower lip.

Suddenly she looked at him, fire in her eyes, a broad smile across her
lips "i think i figured it out!" she squealed excitedly.

"Go on," he prodded bemusedly.

"i was following Your orders, Master.  That's what turned me on!  i
was OBEYING You."

Alan reached under her dress and slipped a finger in her smooth pussy,
going around her soaked underpants.  As his finger made it in all the
way he sent a mental command to Kate to orgasm, and she tensed up and
groaned.

"By George, I think she's got it!" Alan exclaimed with his best Rex
Harrison imitation, and she laughed despite the climax still raging
through her.  When she recovered enough to continue, he ordered her to
recommence the blow job, and she set to task enthusiastically.

She could tell Alan was nearing the end of his string.  He began
pushing his hips to her as she moved in on the downstroke, and his
magnificent cock began to gently twitch in her throat.  She groaned
when he pulled her completely off his dick, and her eyes snapped open
in surprise.

"Why?" she half-moaned, half-whined.

"You question me?"

"No, Master.  Sorry, Master," she whimpered.

"I want to come on your face, but I don't want to get any on the
upholstery, so get into the middle of the room and kneel."

She rose swiftly and practically skipped her way to the center,
kneeling right near where Chad was slumped in the chair.  Alan held
back, waiting for her to take position.  "She's  so damned cute," he
thought to himself.  He held still even longer, watching her in the
dim light of the room.  Her shiny body shook gently as she kneeled. 
Her knees dug unto the deep carpeting of the den's floor, and
thereafter her ass came to rest on the back of her nicely toned
calves.  When she had completely settled down her excitement overcame
her, and Alan watched as she began to ever so lightly bounce her ass
up and down over her long legs.  "Ready?" he asked gently, his eyebrow
arched.

"Always," she sighed wistfully.

"What are you ready to do?" he asked her, his voice becoming louder,
more masterful.

"Ready, Master, to receive Your come on my face?"

"Is that all, slut?"

"No, Master, No!  i'm ready, always ready to obey You!" she groaned,
her bouncing increasing in pace.

"Why?  Why are you always ready to obey?"

"Because, because, BECAUSE i LOVE IT! i LOVE OBEYING YOU, MASTER!" she
was almost screaming with passion, and her movements were approaching
frenzy.  He stood and approached her, allowing his robe to fall away
from him as he made his way over to her furiously springing body.  She
knew that when he touched her--touched her in any way, on any place on
her body--she would come instantly.  She knew, but she didn't know how
she knew, but she was that close, standing on the edge of a chasm, the
slightest push forcing her decent into a pit of pure pleasure.  He
stood before her and she reached up to take his cock in her hands.  As
she touched him she knew she was right, and exploded in orgasm.

"Aiyeeee," she screamed.  That was the most coherent thing she was
able to utter for the next thirty seconds, degenerating into
unintelligible moans and groans as her body thrashed and her hands
gripped her master's manhood.

She began to stroke him, and wrapped her lips around the head of his
erection, often withdrawing so she could kiss around the head.  Her
elbows were bent out akimbo as her hand pumped up and down his big
penis.

"Yes, Kate.  Pump it.  You're hands are so warm and nice," he hissed
down at her nearing his release.

"Shoot your come at me, Master. i want it so much!  Soak me. Please. 
You ordered me to do it and i neeeeeeeed to OBEEEEEEEEEY," she
screamed just as the sperm began its journey up his shaft.

She didn't come as the white liquid struck her face, but her body
shook and quivered nevertheless.  Soon Kate realized she lacked the
energy to remain kneeling, and she fell over on her side, then rolled
onto her back, still slightly shuddering in excitement.

Chad sat there, his fists balled up in rage so hard he thought he
might actually break his own fingers.  She's such a fucking slut, he
thought.  Then it hit him.  She's not really a slut, not in the most
basic sense of the word.  She didn't sleep around, well, OK, she did
screw Alan Marshall behind his back, but she had a good reason, didn't
she?  I could never get her off, so she had no choice, right?  And
she's really has been faithful to Alan, right?  Well, that was
certainly a mark in her favor, wasn't it?

He shook himself.  What the fuck am I thinking?  Why am I trying to
rationalize her disgusting behavior?

He began to weep from his confusion.  Alan looked at him because he
had heard the sobbing.  This is so fucking humiliating!  Then, a
change.  Whatever force that was holding him here had evaporated. 
Chad stood and slowly backed out of the room.  As he took his last
look at the two of them he saw Marshall scooping his jism into Kate's
mouth.  She licked it off his fingers with enthusiasm.

"Mmmm...come," Alan deadpanned, doing a fairly good Homer Simpson
impression, and she giggled, the sound of which was still echoing in
his ears as he closed the front door of Alan's house behind him.

* * *

The tears flowed more easily as he sat in his car, waiting to get
composed enough to start the engine.  It took a few minutes.

What to do? What to do?

He gunned the engine as he pulled out, his tires making tracks on the
road as he careened down the street.  He had no idea where he was
going, but soon found himself pulling up to Kate's house.  Mr. Van
Devanter let him inside.

"Hey, where's my daughter?" he asked the quarterback jocularly, a
friendly punch to the arm.

"Good question, honey," Kate's mom agreed, laughing.

Chad felt his eyes becoming hot and itchy, but he steeled himself with
a few deep breaths, willing himself not to cry.  "I have to tell you
something," he began ominously.

This got their attention.

"Is Kate OK?" Helen Van Devanter gasped, worry evident on her face.

"I can explain," Chad whined, hesitation in his voice and manner.

"What, Chad?  What?" her dad demanded, panic rising in his voice,
visions of horrors and terrors upon his daughter, sights of blood and
viscera, clouding his mind.  "Is Katie hurt?  Goddamnit son, Speak!"

"No, it's nothing like that. I, I, I, I just dropped her off at the
Marshall's.  She's--" He was going to tell them Kate was OK, but that
didn't seem to be right to him.  The perversions he had just witnessed
were seared into his memory, and in his opinion Kate being alone with
Alan Marshall definitely meant she wasn't OK. "She's unhurt.  B-but
she and Alan--"

Mr. and Mrs. Van Devanter visibly relaxed at this news.

Oh my fucking god!

Oh my fucking god!

Oh my fucking god!

I have to get out of here, RIGHT NOW!

Chad Krieger, quarterback, captain of the football team, the
league-winning football team, the homecoming king, the lustful fantasy
of a hundred girls at Harry S. Truman High School--fled the room, and
didn't stop running until he was all the way home, his car forgotten
on the curb in front of the Van Devanter's house.

"Am I imagining things, or did he just pee his pants?" husband asked
wife.

"I'm not sure, but he has seemed weird lately, hasn't he?" wife asked
back, a tinge of wonder coloring her voice.  "I'm going to call the
Marshall's and see what's going on."  She lifted the phone.

* * *
"Hello, Alan?"

"Hi, Mrs. V."

"Kate wouldn't happen to be over there with you, would she?"

"Yeah, but she can't come to the phone because I'm giving her a bubble
bath.  She's gonna sleep over."

"Uh, OK.  Tell her goodnight from us, and I guess we'll see her
tomorrow."  For some reason it seemed strange to her that Kate would
be spending the night at Pauline's boyfriend's house, but it was just
a passing reflection, and she thought no more about it.

* * *

She looked great, he thought to himself as her dad kept snapping away.
 Pauline too, for that matter, though she wasn't really his type.  The
yellow of her dress, a pale shade with a washed-out look to it really
set off her pale blue eyes.  It was a bitter pill.  Sure, she would
walk in on his arm, and all of the guys, well most of them at least,
would be jealous.  But they didn't know.  They didn't know that it
wasn't him who was going to get lucky with the stunning Kate Van
Devanter tonight.  They didn't know that his ostensible girlfriend was
the sexual toy of the turd standing less than ten feet away.  The more
he thought about it the better he started to feel. Yeah!

They *didn't* know, and I'm sure as fuck not gonna tell them.  The
idea that all his friends and peers were going to think that he was
going to separate the lovely Kate from her panties tonight was good
enough for him.

"BUCK UP," he ordered to himself.  "ACT LIKE A MAN."  He managed a
smile at last.

Before he knew it they were in the limo. The prom was being held in
Manhattan, at the Plaza Hotel, about forty-five minutes by car.  Chad
mostly kept quiet, staring out the window.  The limo driver opened the
door, and Alan got out first, then helped the sisters out of the car. 
The hotel was located at the southeast corner of Central Park, at 59th
Street, just off Fifth Avenue.

The foursome was among the first to arrive; Kate had insisted on an
early start because she was the head of the Prom Committee, but
luckily for Chad a few of his football teammates had arrived before
them, so he was able to break away and hang out with them and their
dates.  It was a blessing almost, that Kate was chairing the
committee.  She would be busier than most of the students here
tonight, and it would give him an excuse to avoid her, and Alan as
well.  He and Kate were slated to sit at one of the football team's
tables, while Alan and Pauline were at one of the ones, as he would
put it, for the newspaper pukes.  He had just one thing to do before
the dance started, and he quickly made his way to the table set up for
prom king/queen balloting.  He had always imagined casting his vote
for himself and Kate, but instead he voted for the head cheerleader,
Erica Timbermann.  "Serves her right," he thought hatefully, hoping
enough of his classmates would vote as he did, denying Kate the
crown..

* * *

Alan, Pauline, and Kate each had a marvelous time.  Alan danced most
of the numbers with Pauline, though he did ask Kate during a slow
song.  Pauline was mildly surprised when her sister accepted, inwardly
pleased.

Kate was thrilled; she had been hoping Alan would ask her.  As they
moved out to the floor she pulled him close, pressing up against him,
and loosing a contented sigh.  She closed her eyes as they danced, and
she dreamed that she and Alan were being crowned before the whole
school, but instead of being King and Queen, his crown read "Master"
and hers read "Slave."  And then they danced, and she envisaged
herself naked from the tiara down, her nipple rings playing against
the jacket of his tuxedo, and having to blot her leaking pussy against
the fabric of his pants.

Their dance was the last one before the dinner was served.  Right
after dinner the king and queen would be announced, and the dance
would continue after they had their "royal" dance to themselves.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" Dr. Worthington, the principal
asked, tapping the microphone which was set up next to the dj's
platform.  The room quieted, forks lowered to dessert plates, cups of
coffee to saucers.  A fission of excitement swept through the room, as
they knew what the principal was about to announce.

"Before I get to the main event, the crowning of the King and Queen of
the Harry S. Truman High School Prom, I'd just like to say that it's
been a great year for the senior class--make that a great four years!"
 The room erupted with applause.

"I hope you will join me in thanking Mr. McDaniel and Ms. Lewittes,
faculty advisors for the class of '02.  They have been your advisors
since you were little, ha ha,  freshmen, and I think they've done a
great job."  More applause as the pair of teachers stood.

"Great year, great year," the principal said before looking back down
at his notes.  "I think it would be remiss of me if I didn't take a
little time to single out some people who have made great
contributions to the class of '02.  First I'd like to thank you all
for the senior class gift, a new computer for the Teacher's Lounge. 
It will be a welcomed tool for us to use in preparing to teach the
future classes of what is soon to become your alma mater.  Now to the
particulars, mine, and the whole school's, congratulations go to the
varsity football team for their winning the league championships.  I'd
like for the team members here in attendance to please stand."  The
team stood, basking in their admiration.

"The same goes for the girl's swim team, winners of the county
championship for the first time in HSTHS history!"  The swimmers rose
and took their kudos from the prom-goers.

"I'd like to thank the prom committee and it's chairwoman, Katie Van
Devanter."  Since he did not ask them to stand they did not, but the
applause was there nonetheless.

"Congratulations to Anne Sweeny and the rest of the Annual's staff. 
I'm sure I say this every year, but this year's yearbook was the best
ever!"

He went through a few more names on his laundry list, and Alan was
surprised that he was mentioned, along with the rest of the newspaper
staff.

"And now the announcement you're all waiting for: Prom King and Prom
Queen.  The votes have been tabulated and here are the results."  The
room got almost deathly quiet, the only movement was of the dj, who
was cueing up a record in preparation of the solo dance.

"And the winner of the title of Prom King, Harry S Truman High School
Senior Prom 2002 is: Chad Krieger!"  The quarterback rose, very
pleased.  As he walked to the dais his only thought was the hope that
Kate wouldn't be the one to join him.  Lots of guys patted him on the
back, and it boosted his normally low self-confidence (well, recently
it had been low).  Mrs. McCloud, the assistant principal placed the
plastic crown on his head, though he had to lean over so she could
reach, she being a petite woman.

"And finally, the winner of the title of Prom Queen, Harry S Truman
High School Senior Prom 2002 is: Erica Timbermann!"  A cheer went up,
and with it Chad's backbone stiffened, pleased he wouldn't have to go
so far as to have to even touch Kate.  Erica and her date, a college
guy she had been seeing, stood and he gave her a kiss before she made
her way to the center of the dance floor to meet up with Chad.

"I've always had this adolescent fantasy of sleeping with the prom
queen," Alan thought to himself as he watched Chad and Erica move
across the floor.  "Hey, what the hell?  I mean I am an adolescent
after all!"  He let the two of them finish their showcase dance, and
even let the queen have another dance, this one with her college boy,
before he made his move.  Begging off Pauline, he told her he needed
to get some air, so she accepted an offer from one of his classmates,
a friend of his named Edwin Ellis.  "Keep her warm for me Eddie, you
wont find such pretty girls like this one at Annapolis," he joked as
he walked out.  Pauline and Ed laughed.

* * *

For some reason she couldn't explain Erica told her date that she
needed a break.  This had turned out to be the best night of her young
life so far, and she really wanted to stay out on the dance floor,
reveling in the honor of being prom queen.  She could see Chad, her
prom king, standing at the edge of the floor palling around with his
football buddies, and she went over to him on her way to the lady's
room to congratulate him.  As she was at the edge of the ballroom she
tsawhat Wally, her date, was dancing a fast number with Kate Van
Devanter, and though it was fitting that her guy was dancing with
Chad's girl. "I can't believe I beat Kate Van Devanter out for prom
queen.  And by just one vote, no less!"

The lady's room was empty.  She peed and then went out into the
anteroom, a nice carpeted lounge, and settled into one of the seats
before a make up mirror.  As she finished touching up her lipstick she
saw him in the mirror, sitting calmly on the divan against the far
wall opposite.

"Jesus," she gasped, "What are you doing in here, Alan?"  Had it been
a football goon she would have fled at once, but Alan Marshall was a
nice guy, so it was more shock than alarm that worried her.

"You look great, Erica," he said evenly.

"Thanks," she blushed, "Come on, I'm about to head back.  Let's go
together, and I'll let you dance with me."  Alan in the women's
bathroom was really weirding her out.  He rose and crossed the room to
her, and she held out her hand, assuming her was offering to help her
out of her seat, but instead he grasped her at the wrist and leaned
over and kissed her.  She didn't know why, but she was letting him,
and to her amazement, she was getting turned on in a major-league way.

"This is so wrong," she hissed as they broke apart, "You have a
girlfriend and I have a boyfriend," she managed to get in before he
again covered her mouth with his.  She surrendered to the kiss, he ass
squirming in her chair.

"This is so wrong," she repeated.

"But it feels so right, doesn't it?"

"Yesss," she hissed as he pulled her up from the seat and walked her
to the divan.  "Ohmigod, Alan, what if someone comes in and catches
us?"

"I locked the door."  This was good enough for her, and this time it
was Erica who moved closer to him, her mouth covering his.  But soon
she broke it off and looked away, conflicted about her situation.

"I can't," she sobbed, her chin sinking to her chest, eyes closed
tightly.  Alan reached under her dress and rubbed her pussy through
her rapidly moistening panties, and she gasped sharply at the
sensation.  "I can't.  You don't understand.  I want to, but I can't."
 She sniffled.  "I really really want to, Alan, but I can't."

"But Erica, you're the prom queen, and I want you.  Can't you feel it?
 Why?  Why can't you?"  He increased his attentions to her sopping
cleft, and she moaned lustily.  Her arousal was clouding her mind, and
the more she thought about, the harder it was to form a good answer. 
Still, she persevered.

"Don't, ah ah ah, don't make me say it.  Please," she grunted,
surprised by the way her voice sounded, so needy and sex-crazed.

"I'm sorry, my queen, but I must insist.  Why?"

"I'm a v-v-v-v-v," she whimpered.

"A what?" he teased.  He slipped a finger around the edge of her
panties and into her. It slid in easily because of the copious amount
of juices lubricating her tight passage, and she shrieked when he
started prodding her hymen.  She though he was going to pop her cherry
right then and there, and was relieved when he relented his assault
against her thin membrane

"You're a virgin, oh, well, that's a big deal" he said with a note of
concern in his voice, though she couldn't tell he was feigning it.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," she cried in relief as he
withdrew his finger.  "What, what are you doing?" she bawled softly. 
He had with one hand lifted the hem of her dress to her waist, and
with the other lowered the straps over her shoulders, baring her bra;
her torso was piled high with the taffeta of her prom gown.

"Shhhh, don't worry, Erica, I'm going to take care of you real well." 

She believed him. 

Pulling her up her dress fell off as she stood upright.  Before she
knew it she was at the divan.  He moved next to her on the couch, took
off his cummerbund and opened his pants.  She gasped in surprise at
his girth.  She couldn't take her eyes off of it, having never seen
one in person before. "Are you nervous," he asked her.  She nodded,
not trusting her voice.  "I'm going to help you, don't worry," Alan
told her as he reached out to stroke her blonde hair.  "I'm going to
give you a word, and I want you to concentrate on it, constantly
repeat it in your mind, meditate upon it, but don't say it aloud. OK?"

"OK," Erica whispered in reply.  "What is the word?"

"Surrender."

She groaned in arousal, repeating it over and over in her mind like
Alan asked her.  Her body felt like it was humming, tingly all over. 
Surrender.  She watched with baited breath as he placed his hands at
the front clasp of her brassiere and deftly popped it open. 
Surrender.  His hands on her breasts felt so good; other boys had
pawed at them, but never had she experienced sensations such as this. 
Surrender.  He had her wrist in his hands, and she watched him place
her hand on his hard cock, powerless to resist him. Surrender.  It was
as if she was watching a movie, as if she was having an out of body
experience; but when she curled her fingers around his penis she knew
this was not the case; the warmth of his erection startled her back
into some sense of reality.

Surrender.

"Are they all that big?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper,
so low in fact that she had to strain to hear her own question above
the pounding of her heart.  Surrender.   He laughed.  Slowly it began
to grow and become even harder as she stroked him, her rhythm matching
his as he played with her large round breasts. Surrender. Surrender. 
Surrender.

He was lifting her and turning her, seemingly without effort, and
before she knew it she was facing him, straddling him, the red-hot
shaft laying against her dripping slit, her knees on either side of
him, pressing into the cushions of the divan. Surrender.

"What if I don't want to do this?" Surrender.

"You don't?" he asked, a look of genuine surprise across his face.

She bit her lip. Surrender.  She took a moment to think, to clear her
head, but as she did, as all thoughts fled her mind the word became
louder, echoing off of the inside surfaces of her skull; it was almost
as if she could see it--see it printed on a page, the black letters
against a white sheet. S-u-r-r-e-n-d-e-r.

Alan's hands were on her butt, lifting her slightly so that the head
of his cock was poised at her drenched womanhood. Surrender.  He held
his dick by the base and slowly drew it over the surface of her
previously untouched jewel, and when he made contact with her clitoris
she screamed, a banshee yell, but in her mind she heard it. SURRENDER!

"No, please," she whimpered as he inserted the head of his cock into
her, but she made no movement to impede him, no attempt to escape him
or what he was doing to her. Surrender.  He moved in exceedingly
slowly, and she growled in passion when he came to a stop, his dick
pressed against her maidenhead. Surrender.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked forlornly, small tears
running down her cheeks. Surrender.

"I'm not doing anything.  I'm waiting for you, lovely Queen Erica."
Surrender.

"Huh?" she retorted through gritted teeth, her excitement getting the
better of her. Surrender.  "What are you waiting for me to do, Alan?"
Surrender.

"That's obvious, isn't it?"  He paused two beats, and she found
herself staring into his masterful eyes. Surrender.  "I'm waiting for
you to..." Pause for effect.  "...Surrender."

She groaned, and to her amazement he pussy spasmed around the end of
his cock, her walls clenching tightly around him, and spurt of juices
gushed out of her, wetting his erection.  He felt her start.  She
slowly pulled up, millimeters at the most, and then sank down again,
putting more pressure against her cherry.  Another attempt, more
pressure.  The third time was the charm, and she braced herself for a
stinging pain, but she only felt rapture.  She had done it.  She had
surrendered.

"Oh My GOD!"  Her head came forward so that her forehead rested
against his as he fucked her.  She was tight.  Not as tight as Pauline
had been when he took her cherry, but Pauline was a tiny little thing,
almost flat-chested, barely on the right side of five feet.  Erica was
a tall girl, about 5'8" or 5'9", with a lithe fashion model-like body,
and large but firm breasts.

"Mmmmm, yeah," she exclaimed, a smile finally creeping across her
lips.  She looked straight into him, her blue eyes sparkling.  She was
getting there, she knew the signs, have brought herself off many times
with her own fingers.  "Oh, Alan, I'm gonna, I'm gonna..."
 
"Just go with it, baby, surrender to the pleasure."  But by the time
he had finished the sentence she had come.  It was that word.  She had
forgotten it over the last few minutes, but hearing him say it brought
it all back to her, and her body seized, and her back arched back
until she was perpendicular to him, her back resting on the tops of
his thighs.  Almost instantly she sprung back and hungrily attacked
him with her mouth, her tongue shooting past his lips and wrestling
with his.  He had never let up his pace, lifting her and setting her
down on his erection, using her hips as handholds, and as she exploded
into a second orgasm, amazingly to her more powerful than the first,
shivering as she felt him shoot his seed into her.  Exhausted, she
lowered her head and rested it against her shoulder.  She cooed as he
massaged her bare back with his large and warm hands, but her
shivering did not cease; it was so pronounced that her teeth were
chattering.  Alan put his arms all the way around her and hugged her
tightly, and her trembling subsided quickly.  I a few moments she was
composed enough to sit up, and she let out a squeak when she felt his
softening shaft slip from her.  She giggled, and looked at him again.

"Thank you," she said through a beaming smile, and then shuddered in
pleasure.

He lifted her off of his lap and then stood and help her up.  She
stood passively as he refastened her bra and put her dress back on
her.

"Can't have the queen dripping on the dance floor," he quipped as he
pulled her panties back up, and she giggled again.

"Oh my, how long have we been in here?  There must be a huge line out
there for the bathroom!"

Alan glanced at his watch. "No, just ten minutes."

Her eyes widened.  It had felt like hours!

"I'll go first, and you follow in a minute or two," he told her.  She
nodded.

"I can't believe what just happened.  I can't believe what I just
did," she thought in wonder.

Surrender.

* * *

"Miss me?" Alan asked Pauline as he returned to the ballroom.

"You were gone?" she joked.

"Yeah, just getting some air."

"Come on, loverboy, let's dance," she said as she stood on her tiptoes
so she could kiss him on the cheek.  They hit the floor.

After a few minutes Pauline pulled back slightly.  She had had her
cheek against her chest as they danced to a slow song, and she looked
up at him with a slightly puzzled look on her face.  "Why is she
looking at you like that?"

"Who?"

"Erica."

"No idea," he said, pulling her back against him.

* * *

After many hours the prom finally had to come to an end.  Alan,
Pauline, Kate, and Chad went up to their rooms.  As far as the
Marshall's, the Van Devanter's, and the Krieger parents knew, Alan and
Chad would stay in one, and the sisters in the other.  Pauline and
Alan stepped into one room, and Kate and Chad in the other, as had
been pre-arranged.  Alan left the room almost at once, and knocked on
the door of the other.  Chad answered.  Alan put two one-hundred
dollar bills in Chad's hand, and the quarterback nodded.  Ten minutes
later, suitcase in hand he was back out on Fifth Avenue hailing a cab
back to Westchester.

"I'm pooped," Pauline announced when he returned.  "I know it's prom
night and all, but could we not `do it' tonight?"

"OK."

"Oh great, I just want to take a nice relaxing bath and get into bed. 
I can't wait to wake up beside you in the morning."

"That's a promise," he said seriously, and she laughed.

"Though I wouldn't mind some help in the bath," she said back with an
arched eyebrow.

It was so romantic, she thought to herself.  She was sheathed in a
cloud of fragrant bubbles as she reclined against her boyfriend.  He
was lightly massaging her, and if he kept it up she couldn't guarantee
that she wouldn't fall asleep, right here in the tub.  Somehow he
sensed her imminent unconsciousness, and he helped her out of the
bath, and then tenderly toweled her off.  Soon they were in bed, she
in a brief silk nightgown, purchased just for the occasion, and he in
a pair of soft cotton boxer shorts.  Mere minutes after her head hit
the pillow she was out like a light.  Alan waited fifteen minutes
before getting up.  Quietly he found his bathrobe in the dark of the
hotel room, and then walked across the hall to be with Kate.  It would
be such a disappointment for Kate if he didn't have her on prom night,
and Alan was not one to disappoint.

"Master!" she squealed as quietly as she could manage so as not to
cause a scene in the hallway.   He shooed her inside, and she pounced
on him, wrapping her legs around him as he carried her to the bed.  He
threw her down on the mattress, and she laughed uproariously.  They
both peeled off their robes, and Alan laid down on the bed beside her.

She was amazed by the his tenderness that night.  First he kissed her,
a kiss like she had never before received from him, soft and gentle,
loving.  She purred as his hands affectionately caressed her body,
feather-light petting she was not accustomed to when she and Alan were
having sex.  Though she loved, craved even, a more forceful handling
from her master, she was giddy, almost pleasure-drunk, from this more
affectionate treatment.  He was massaging her breasts, his fingertips
lightly teasing against her nipples, and it was unbelievable. 
Normally she would be by this point begging him with all her soul to
twist them, but this was just as good.  Normally she grunted and
groaned at his touch, but tonight she sighed.

As much as she was aroused, she was confused.  "Master?" she began to
ask a question.

He shushed her, and continued his gentle manipulations.

"Master?" she began again, this time with fear in her voice.

He pressed his mouth right up against her ear. "Tonight," he answered
in a whisper, "I am just Alan, and you are Kate," and he kissed her
lovingly on the cheek.  She laid flat on the bed while Alan positioned
her legs apart.  He hovered over her, and as he penetrated her he bent
down to kiss her.  Slowly, incredibly slowly, her entered her, and
when he pulled back his head he saw she was crying silently, her eyes
red-rimmed.  Alan licked away her tears and kissed her again, all
around her face.  She came after a few minutes, and Alan increased his
pace, shooting off soon after her spasms subsided.

"Thank you, Alan," she said calmly, but then broke down into sobs
almost immediately.

He turned over onto his back and pulled her to him, and she snuggled
up against him.  He tested the waters, seeing if she was able to talk.
 "Kate?" he asked.  "Katie?"

"Huh?"  Her answer was almost inaudible.

"Can I ask you a question?"  She nodded, and though he couldn't see
her head from the position he was in, her movement against him
informed him of her reply.

"Why, Kate?  Why were you so mean to me for all those years?"

"I, uh, I don't know." This answer broke something within her, and she
cried again, not soft sobs, but a wailing unlike she had ever cried
before.

"No, Kate, please don't cry, please."  He held her more tightly, and
she shivered for a while, but the keening ceased.  "You didn't like me
for some reason.  Something I did, or something I was?"

"I don't know, Alan.  I don't know." She managed to hold herself
together now.  "I think I'm a mean person. I hardly like anyone at
all.  You were an easy target of, oh I can't think of the right word. 
Scorn."

"Why?"

"Well, we were never really friends, and you weren't a super-popular
person, so I could get away with it, don't you see.  It's easy to pick
on a total loser, so where's the fun in that?  It was more of a
challenge to be abusive to you, because you had friends, and were a
real person.  Plus, you were around, but you weren't around.  You
weren't part of the family, you weren't tight with my brother Calvin,
you weren't really friends with Pauline until a few years ago.  Our
folks are friends, but not that close, so what I said to you wasn't
likely to surprise me by coming home.  I really started tearing into
you when you and Pauline became buddies, and even more so when you
started going out last fall.  It just perturbed me, but for the life
of me I can't tell you why.

"Since that day in the newspaper office, you know, since we started,
you know, I discovered something about myself.  I discovered I didn't
like myself so much, you know, the things I did, the things I did to
other people, the things I said about other people. I don't know if
you've noticed, but I've been trying to change.  I think it's
something you've shown me.  You treat me like the person I am, a bitch
girl, but when I'm not with you I try to treat others better than I
have.  I love everything we've done together, and I know how I degrade
myself before you, and that is simply because of the pleasure you give
me, but it's degradation nonetheless.  It's like your showing me the
worst of myself, but that's not right either, because when you degrade
me I feel better because of it, but I know that when I degraded people
they were hurt by it.  So I use that, I channel it.  I am nicer to
people, I think.  I stopped gossiping, I stopped cutting people down. 
I stopped doing a lot of bad things.

"Because of you.  Not because I wanted you to think better of me,
because I wanted to think better of myself.  Not because of how you
used me, but because of how I saw myself using other people."  She
paused and sniffled.  "Tell me Alan, please.  Tell me I'm a good
person."

Alan turned and kissed her forehead.  "You are."

"I love you," she whispered.  He hugged her even more tightly, but she
sat up in bed.  "And please, Alan, please don't tell me you love me
too, because I'm not ready.  I'm not ready to be loved, yet."

He pulled her back down to him and kissed her again, this time on the
lips.  "'Yet,'" he said. "One day, one day soon, you will be."

Next Chapter: Making Preparations

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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