Chapter 13
Promenade yer Partner, Round and Round...

"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 came 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 here 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 here 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 saw that 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 he 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 thought 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 her 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.  In 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, Van Devanter, 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
