Alan Ch. 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