Megan Purrs, Kate Begs
Between 3:30 and 5:30 the staff had worked hard, only bothering him occasionally with questions or problems. He was even able to get almost all of his homework done.
Alan stepped out of the office and called home telling his mom where he was. He really wasn’t on such a short leash, but his mom was in a fragile state, and he was sure she would appreciate the courtesy. “By the way,” Alan added, lying through his teeth, “Mikey Green asked if I wanted to come over tonight to play poker. If you don’t need me around I’m going to go.” Alan’s mom told him not to be silly, almost insisting that he go be with his friends. As he was returning to the office Alan felt a little bad about lying to his mom.
Just as he finished his calculus problem sets Pauline Van Devanter came up to him, and pulled up a chair close. “So, Alan, how’s it going? I hope my sister didn’t wreck your day.”
“No, in fact, just the opposite,” he replied cryptically. Pauline moved onto other subjects, mostly concerning reporting assignments for next week’s athletic schedule. Alan looked her over. Pauline had the build of an athlete. Trim and petite, she resembled a figure skater or an Olympic gymnast. Alan never knew her to play organized sports, but her older brother Cal was a great athlete, starting tight end on the football team at Truman, and now filing the same role at Dartmouth, indeed, one of the few sophomores to be a starter. Pauline had always idolized Calvin, and she was in many ways much closer to her older brother than she was to her older sister, even though she and Kate were nearer in age. She became interested in sports because Cal was interested in sports, and her life’s goal was to be a sports journalist. She hoped to be the next Hannah Storm, and was thrilled when Alan had almost single-handedly installed her as sports page editor. They had been friends since junior high, though Kate had always been trying to get between them.
One of the sports writers called out for her and she went over to him, then made a few changes to his copy, printed his article out and brought it over to Alan. After giving it a cursory glance—he trusted Pauline—she told the writer to transmit it over the network to the layout editor’s workstation for insertion. A few other editors came by as well, doing the same dance that Pauline had just performed, i.e. bringing copy for Alan’s approval, and then sending it electronically to layout, but none chatted him up as Pauline had. By 5:30 almost everyone was gone. Mr. Bar Levi returned around then and scanned the printouts for content. Finding nothing too controversial, he left Alan and two editors to finish up.
Right after he left, Alan turned to the two, Missy Peters, the managing editor (second-in-command), and Amanda Wallace, the layout editor, and asked them if they could handle the rest of the work without him. He really needed to get home, he explained. They understood, Alan having just lost his grandfather and all, and wished him a good weekend.
He trusted them, especially Missy, a junior, who was slated to succeed him when he graduated. They weren’t really friends, but he respected her journalistic judgment and acumen. Amanda, though only a sophomore, was the best layout person he had ever worked with, a maestro with the graphics programs, so he was confident the next edition of the paper would come out fine.
Alan pulled up to his house about an hour before his mom put dinner on the table, and he kept her company as she cooked. She was still a bit subdued, and at dinner Alan’s dad attempted to compensate, trying his best to liven up the mood. After dinner Alan rushed to his room to shower and change his clothes for his meet with Megan. He really didn’t think of it as a date because they really couldn’t go out in public together. He thought about the reaction people would have if they were seen together at the movie theater, or at Starbucks, holding hands, or being affectionate. His friends, he imagined would stare at the two of them goggle-eyed; and her friends and co-workers would probably be horrified, bringing down upon them all sorts of horrors. As he was getting ready he knew he had to be careful. If he dressed too sharply for poker night at Mikey’s his parents would become suspicious, but he didn’t want to show up at Megan’s like a slob. He put on tan pants and a nice shirt, a knit pullover polo-style one, not wanting to lose anymore buttons. The thought made him smile.
It was fairly warm for an early spring evening such as this, and he shed his jacket as he walked to her door, folding it over his arm. He had called ahead while driving over, and she reminded him the door would be unlocked, and he should let himself in discretely. Alan noticed movement in the window of the townhouse next to Megan’s; the curtains parted and quickly came back together. As he entered he saw her sitting in the living room, in the overstuffed chair so she could watch the door while waiting for him. Seeing him enter she crossed the foyer, putting her left arm around his waist, and with her right she turned the deadbolt. Alan bent over and kissed her neck, and she purred. They retreated to the living room, walking hand-in-hand, and sat beside each other on the couch, her body draped on his. Megan asked about his day, and Alan related the difficulties at the paper. Since she knew most of the people involved she often interrupted him, offering unvarnished opinions about the players.
“Megan, just when I came in, the person in the house next door, the one on the left, was watching me. Do you think we should be worried?” Megan had an embarrassed look on her face and said nothing. Alan could feel the buzzing in his head again, and was slightly startled realized that he could hear her thoughts.
“Damn,” she thought, “I never should have told her about Alan. She’ll never tell, I hope, but I don’t want to freak out Alan.” Alan was flabbergasted about Megan’s loose talk. He hadn’t breathed a word to anyone about Megan, and with her position he figure she would be just as tactful. “I, uh, I don’t think we should worry Alan. That’s just my neighbor Leila, and she wouldn’t say anything. We’re friends.” Alan probed her thoughts, finding out all he could about this Leila, and what about him Megan had told her. Convinced that Megan trusted Leila, Alan relaxed a bit, not that he was so tense to begin with.
The doorbell rang, and Megan, full of trepidation looked through the peephole. “It’s Leila,” she whispered to Alan. “Let her in,” he replied, surprising her. “You sure?” she asked back, and Alan nodded.
Up on “The Hill” Kate Van Devanter was awakening. (“The Hill” was the nickname for the section of town where the rich lived.) She realized that Pauline had come into her room and was sitting at the edge of her bed, and that’s what caused her to wake.
“So,” Pauline said softly, “Are you feeling better?” Kate stretched out and nodded. “What happened this morning. You seemed OK, but mom picked you up during second period.” Pauline had a genuine look of concern on her face. She might have thought Kate could be a little bit of a bitch sometimes, especially to Alan Marshall, but they were still sisters, and Pauline cared about her.
“What did happen to me this morning?” Kate thought to herself. For some reason she had followed Alan to the newspaper office, spitting insults all along the way, and then she had practically torn off his clothes, sucked his penis into her mouth, mounted him, and then let him fuck her in her virgin ass. And despite the horror of it all she had had the most intense orgasms of her life, even when he took her ass. Even now, almost half a day later she couldn’t make heads or tails of how it had happened. The only thing she really did know was that her body, her pleasure, now belonged to that jerk Alan Marshall. She was his slut, and he could do with her as he pleased. She would crawl across broken glass to feel that pleasure again. She would submit to his every whim just for the small chance to come like again.
She answered her sister in an exceedingly soft voice; Pauline strained to hear her. “All of a sudden I felt faint. I almost passed out. Uh, I was cramping and went to the nurse, and she put me in a cot and called mom. She brought me home, and I’ve been sleeping since this morning.” Pauline bent over and gave her a kiss on the forehead before leaving the room. A few minutes later her dad came in, and also asked what had happened, receiving the same story.
Feeling well enough to go downstairs for dinner, Kate pulled on a pair of old sweatpants and a pajama top. The dinner table conversation was dominated by Pauline’s stories of the day at the newspaper. Mom and Dad were very proud of all Pauline had accomplished, both on the paper and her good grades, and asked many questions about her work on the paper. Alan’s name came up a few times, and then only in passing, but Kate pricked up her ears at each mention.
Pauline was going out with friends after dinner, to see a movie. Once she left, Kate snuck into her room, found her address book in the top drawer of her desk, and scribbled Alan’s phone numbers on a piece of scrap paper. Letting herself out she quickly made her way back to bed. It wasn’t until she closed her bedroom door behind her that she realized she had ran the whole way to her room with the scrap of paper clutched to her breast.
Her dad knocked a few minutes later to invite her downstairs to watch a video. He intimated that they wanted to keep an eye on her, worried that she might faint. She agreed, and joined her parents in the den. Her dad started the movie, a tape he had rented knowing Kate hadn’t seen yet, and for the first time since waking up she allowed thoughts Alan to float out of her mind.
Leila examined Alan like he was a stuffed animal on display at the Museum of Natural History. He was in good shape, had a nice looking face, handsome even. His dark hair was cut fairly short, and when he smiled over at Megan she could see that he had nice teeth. Megan seemed very uncomfortable with the situation, but Alan couldn’t have seemed more relaxed. “So,” Leila began, “You’re Alan. Do you have sex with all your teachers, or just my friend Megan?” Alan laughed.
“Do you always ask such inappropriate question everyone you just met? Or is it something about me in particular?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Leila shot back.
“As a matter of fact, Megan isn’t the only teacher I’m carrying on with.” A pregnant pause hung in the air. “I’m also seeing Mrs. Stafford, but just on the side.” Megan burst out laughing, explaining to her friend that Mrs. Stafford was the school librarian, and was nearing seventy. Alan grinned and awaited Leila’s next inquisitorial assault.
Leila seemed lost for words for a second, and Alan went ahead and started scanning her mind. He first planted the command that she never reveal his relationship with Megan to anyone. She and Megan would be allowed to talk about between themselves, but Leila was precluded from mentioning it to any other person. He learned a few things about her: she was twenty-six years old, from New Jersey, now a physical therapist at the big hospital in Valhalla. She was fairly promiscuous, often dating, and sleeping with, more than one man at once, and sometimes (rarely) having one night stands. Leila, flustered by her inability to fling another zinger at Alan, soon left. Once she was gone Megan took him by the hand and led him to the door of her bedroom. Telling him to wait outside she stripped off her clothes, leaving only her new panties, went to her closet and took out her sheerest, shortest nightgown. After lighting a half dozen candles she called out for Alan to enter.
He came in and gave her a wolf whistle. She giggled. She was on the bed, up on her knees and he jumped on, plopping down next to her. She fell over, hugging him, and then reached out to undress him. “I didn’t wear a button down shirt, because, you know,” he said softly, and she giggled again as she pulled it off him. He opened his pants and she tugged them down, along with his shorts. He had left his shoes on the landing, and he took off his socks by sliding his left foot under the elastic right sock, then used his exposed right big toe to hook under the elastic left sock and drag it off his foot. He sat up and then sat her up, proceeding to pull the nightgown over her head and toss it to the floor. They laid back down, and he began running his hands over her body, paying close attention to her erect nipples. She purred, and her whole body began to warm up.
He got down between her legs and pulled the gusset of her panties to one side. “New panties?” he asked, and she beamed. He lightly blew on her pubis, sending shivers up her spine. Holding her panties to one side he ate her pussy to a screaming climax, then positioned himself to enter her. “Ready?” he asked, leaning in to kiss her before she could answer. He kept his lips plastered to hers as he sunk his cock into her depths, and because of that Megan was unable to answer verbally, humming into his kiss, her eyes communicating her pleasure at this act.
He fucked her for about fifteen minutes, varying his speed and depth of penetration. Megan had a very small orgasm near the start, and as she climaxed the second time he spilled his seed into her. Both of them panting, he collapsed on top of her, the rolled off, laying beside her. He looked at the clock at her bedstand and saw that is was coming up on 8pm. She curled up and put the side of her head on his chest, and he could feel the breath come out of her nostrils. It tickled.
“Megan,” he asked, neither of them moving, “Could I ask you a favor?”
She kept still. She was savoring the moment. “What?”
“I’m a bit embarrassed to be bringing this up now, but my favorite TV show is about to start. ‘Washington Week in Review’ on PBS, Channel 13. I never miss it. Do you mind?”
Megan laughed. “No problem, sweetie. The remote is on the night table. Click away.” After he turned on the TV and tuned it to channel 13, she brought her head up to rest it on his shoulder so she could also see the screen. He put his arm around her as the show started. It all seemed so domestic; she closed her eyes and imagined they were a long married couple, watching the tube before turning in for the night. She had even called him “Sweetie” and he hadn’t even flinched. When the show ended they made love again, and then both drifted off to sleep. Alan had set her clock radio alarm for midnight, so he could make it home well before his Friday night 1am curfew. They got into the spoon position, Alan behind her, his body molded to her back, his arm draped over her middle.
She walked him to the door. He had turned the alarm off, and then dressed quietly in the dark, but she woke up soon after he did. Wearing a skimpy silk robe she kissed him goodbye.
Alan woke up early on Saturday morning, even before the sun came up. His two and a half hour post-coital nap in Megan’s bed meant that in effect he had gone to bed much earlier than usual. Walking to his bathroom to brush his teeth he flipped on the radio for a forecast. The weatherman said that the unusually warm temperatures would continue for the next few days. Alan went down to the garage and pulled his bike down from the wall rack. He spent an hour working on it. First the pulled the cables and tested the tension, then he washed the frame, checking for rust spots. He lubed the pedal clips, and attached the chain lubrication device to the chain and cranked the pedals a few times to run the chain through the brushes.
After showering he donned a pair of shorts and leggings, and pulled a long sleeve poly-weave jersey from his armoire. He grabbed his cleats and headed downstairs. Sitting in the driveway he pulled on the cleats and adjusted the velcro straps. Straddling the top tube he clicked in his left shoe in the clipless pedal, pumped once to get rolling and them jammed his other cleat to the pedal. As he cleared the driveway he hit the button on the cyclocomputer to zero his odometer.
When he stopped to rest and eat one of the bananas he had stowed in the back pocket of the jersey, he glanced down at the odometer and saw that he had ridden 15 miles. Feeling good, he decided to do another fifteen before headed home.
As he was turning on to Westervelt Road, the main drag through town, he realized that he had biked almost thirty miles, with only one break and was barely winded. This was not unusual for him in the middle of the season, a few months into warm weather, but this was his first ride in months. The Seed, he reasoned, had increased his stamina. He had only two more turns before reaching home, and as he turned onto Van Rensselear Lane he saw Pauline, sitting on the bench swing on her front porch. She saw him too, and waved. Riding up her driveway he stopped right at the steps of the porch, dismounted and climbed the steps to sit beside her.
“Jeez., its early,” she said in wonder. Alan glanced at his watch and saw it was 7:30. “What kind of miles did you make today?”
Alan told her thirty, but she didn’t believe him until he told her to look at the odometer. She skipped down the steps, lifted his bike upright, looked at the readout on the computer and whistled.
“How’s your sister doing?” Alan asked as she returned to sit next to him.
“She look really ghastly when I saw her last night, but she seems better today.”
They sat quietly for a while, enjoying the warm morning breeze. At 8 o’clock Pauline invited him in for something to eat.
“I’m not really dressed to be going into your house, Pauline.” His jersey was damp with sweat, and he had unzipped the front, almost to his navel to get the most of the breeze. His shorts and leggings were tight, verging on the obscene, especially considering his new girth. He and Pauline had been sitting side-by-side, and she turned to give him a good long look. She was somewhat taken aback by his chest, not remembering him as being so toned. As he stood up she noticed the bulge in his pants. Momentarily distracted, she paused before speaking.
“Don’t be silly. Come on in and I’ll give you a good breakfast. Conchita always makes waffles on Saturday-from scratch. Don’t be a spoilsport.”
“An offer like that no man could refuse,” he said while hooking his arm to hers. They walked in together, the metal cleats on the soles of biking shoes clicking against the floor of the porch. Once inside he shed his shoes, and they went to the kitchen.
Kate almost choked on her waffle when she saw him enter on Pauline’s arm. She took a big gulp of milk and fled from the room. “Never mind her,” Pauline said as Conchita set out two plates for them. Minutes later Alan was eating his waffle, Pauline had insisted on him taking the next one out of the iron. He ate slowly in order that he not finish his before hers was ready. He helped himself to a cup of coffee, and when Conchita brought Pauline’s waffle she also placed two glasses of orange juice in front of them.
“How are you Mr. Alan?” Conchita asked. “I haven’t seen you around the house in a long time.”
“Well, Conchita, if I knew waffles were on the menu, I’d show my face more often.” Conchita laughed.
“You’re such a charm boy, Mr. Alan. You and Pauline made such a cute couple. You should go out again.”
“Oh, Conchita, you’re the living end,” Pauline said laughingly.
“Hey Pauline, you busy today? Maybe we could do something?” Alan asked her, only half teasing Conchita.
“Oh, Miss Pauline is free. She’d love to spend the day with you.” Conchita quickly interjected before Pauline could respond. They all laughed again.
“Well then,” Alan said through the laughter, “It’s a date. I’ll go home and shower and change, and then come back to pick you up.” Pauline needed to do some shopping and they quickly decided to head to the mall.
All three of them were still hooting it up when Mr. and Mrs. Van Devanter came down for breakfast. Alan rose to greet them, but Pauline’s mom was in a bathrobe, and seeing Alan she excused herself to put on some more clothes.
“So, Alan, how’s business?” Mr. Van Devanter asked, jocularly elbowing in the ribs. “Tearing up the roads, I see.” They chatted for a bit, Mr. Van Devanter asking after Alan’s mom, and he also congratulated Alan on his early admission to Columbia. “Good luck in the big city, son. Ah, once they’ve seen Paris how are we going to keep them on the farm?” he mused.
It soon came out that Pauline and Alan were going to head over to the mall. As Alan stood up to leave Mrs. Van Devanter pulled him aside. “Alan, Kate was sick yesterday, and I don’t want her out alone. She also wants to go to the mall. With you and Pauline going, I was wondering if you could drive Kate, and maybe keep an eye out for her. Her dad an I are a little worried about her, and it would lift a load off our minds if she went over with the two of you.” Alan agreed, and Mrs. Van Devanter gave him a peck on the cheek. “You’re such a gentleman, Alan. You should come by more often—we’ll never see you after you go off to college.” Alan used the Seed to make the whole bunch in the kitchen think he had already left, and he headed up the stairs to Kate’s room.
Entering, he heard the shower running, and he stepped into Kate’s bathroom. He couldn’t decide whether to pull her out of the shower, or wait for her to finish, and just as he was about to come to a decision, Kate emerged from the steamy chamber. Seeing him, and realizing she was naked, she let out a small scream, but Alan’s powers saw to it than nobody downstairs could hear it. “What are you doing in here?” she gasped, putting one hand across her breasts, and cupping her vagina with the other to prevent him from seeing her.
He pointed to the toilet and looked her right in the eye. “Sit,” he commanded, and she didn’t even hesitate. Alan was thrilled; he wasn’t even using the Seed to force her actions, and she was as docile as a newborn kitten. He reached behind her, taking her butt cheeks in his palms and nudged her forward. She was staring at him, her mouth agape, partly in terror, mostly in lust. He left her there, perched uncertainly at the edge of the toilet seat, and pulled the drain closed on the bathroom’s sink, then turned on the hot water tap. He pulled the mirror towards him, opening the medicine cabinet, retrieving a fresh disposable razor and her shaving gel. After squirting a dollop in his hand he went back to her and lathered up her pubic hair. “Beg me slut. Beg me to shave your pussy.” His eyes bored into hers, and she couldn’t look away.
“Please,” she whispered with a little-girl inflection in her voice, “Please shave me.”
“Shave you where, slut?”
“Please, Alan, please shave my pussy.” She was whimpering lightly as Alan continued to massage the gel onto her pubis.
“Say ‘Please Alan, shave my cunt.’ Beg me to shave your wet, horny, clenching, dripping cunt. Now slut, beg!”
“Please Alan, shave my wet, horny cunt. I’m dripping. I need you to shave my wet cunt.” Her breathing became ragged, and her nipples were so hard they probably could have cut glass.
Alan withdrew his hand, raking his oily fingers over her hard clit, eliciting a groan from Kate. Her back was at a 45 degree angle to the toilet seat, her tailbone resting on the edge with her crotch exposed both from above and below. Alan dipped the razor into the steaming basin of the sink, and slowly denuded her pussy of hair. He found a washcloth, wiped her off, and lathered her up again so as not to risk missing a single bit of her soft black fuzz. After finishing the second time he ordered her to lean over the sink, lathered up her anal ring and eliminated the few soft hairs which had surrounded her rear passage. After wiping off the excess gel from her ass, he slipped his finger up her rectum, and sent her a mental command to come.
“Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Yes, yes, yes, YES!” she wailed, her body bucking wildly.
Alan handed her a towel, and she started to dry off from her shower. When she was clam again Alan told her that her mother had asked him to escort her to the mall. “They’re worried about you, slut,” he sneered. “I told you mother I’d take good care of you,” he added, giving one of her rock hard nipples a good strong pinch. With that he left, and Kate shuddered at the thought of spending the day with Alan.
Alan biked the last half of a mile home whistling a happy tune. Thirty minutes after arriving he was out the door again, cleaned and dressed. He let himself back into the Van Devanter house, and called up the stairs for Pauline and Kate to come meet him. Pauline came down immediately, making excuses for Kate running a little late. They retired to the den and sat with Mr. Van Devanter, who was watching a rebroadcast of last night’s SportsCenter. Kate came down a few minutes later, and Mr. Van Devanter walked them out. Their dad stopped Alan at the door, letting the girls go ahead. He reached out his hand and expressed his appreciation for agreeing to keep an eye on Kate.
Alan started the car up and drove to the Mall. Pauline was sitting next to him, Kate in the back. Watching her in the rearview mirror he was pleased to see her squirming in her seat. Upon reaching the mall they began to cruise. Being there was as much about hanging, seeing and being seen, as it was about shopping. They stuck together, and Alan was surprised that Kate stayed with them. A good number of their classmates were roaming about, and a number of Kate’s bitchy friends came up to her to see of she was OK, sneering at Alan and Pauline, their social inferiors. Some of them wanted to have Kate go with them, but she demurred, further surprising Alan—Pauline too.
Pauline was browsing through the racks at The Limited, and Alan sent out a mental command for her to keep shopping without taking notice that he and Kate were elsewhere. He and Kate walked out of the store, and Kate’s heartbeat began to accelerate, in a mixture of dread and delight. Alan navigated them through the throngs, to the seamier corner of the mall, the section that contained, among other businesses, skateboard shop, the forlorn used record place, and the ear piercing place. Alan had never been in that shop, at least not while sober.
Last year, on the last day of school, Alan and his friends started downing beers in the mall’s parking lot right after the last classes had let out. It was sort of a town tradition, getting plastered in the lot the day your became an advancing senior. Alan had knocked back a few more than he could handle, and as a prank, his friends had half-carried him into the piercing shop, plopped him down in a chair, and picked out a nice gold stud. The chilly sensation of the iodine swab on his earlobe had shaken him back to his senses. The sight of the guy holding the piercing gun to his ear, finger cocked at the trigger, really woke him up. He screamed and leapt from the chair, hightailing it out of the shop. His buddies teased him over the summer about his high pitch of his voice when he screamed. “Look Alan, a mouse! Give us another shriek!” It was stupid but good natured, and his friends tired of it soon.
“Hey dude! I know you!” the proprietor bellowed at Alan when he entered the piercing parlor. The place smelled of rubbing alcohol and ganja, and Alan was sure the guy was stoned. Figuring the guy was high, and probably couldn’t recall the scream from last June Alan declined to fill in the details for the stoner. Kate idly wondered what they were doing here, knowing in the deepest part of her brain what was about to take place, but hoping against hope she was wrong. The guy behind the counter took a long pull from a can of Dr. Pepper. “So dude, what can I do for you.” He lowered his voice a few registers “We do tattoos in the back.” Tattoo parlors were banned in this county.
“Oh no, sir,” Alan replied, “We’re more in the market for body piercing. What can you show me in the way of nipple rings. The little lady her is just itching for one, and this seems like the right place to get it done.”
“Can the ‘sir’ stuff big guy. Call me Dirty Dan—everybody does, even my mother.” He turned his head to face the back of the shop, “Ain’t that right, Ma?” he yelled. She must have called out something back at him, but Alan couldn’t make out what she was saying. Dirty Dan pulled out a case and set it on the glass countertop. Alan leaned over to peer into it, but Kate kept her place, not wanting to look at them. Dirty Dan went into a whole set of explanations about the differences between each example, but Alan wasn’t listening closely. He wasn’t so much interested in the differences between metals or gauge sizes. He was only concerned with aesthetic considerations. He immediately eliminated all of the post-style ones, shafts of metal capped with little BB’s at each end. He wanted a ring. His eye stopped on one that was gold, and had a gold bead which was threaded through it, welded in the center.
“How much is that one? Is it real gold”
“Hey dude, good choice. Made that baby myself. Eighteen karat gold for the ring, the bead is 24, and that means pure gold, baby. You can’t make the ring itself out of pure gold because it’s too soft,” Dan explained.
“It’s very nice,” Alan said to him, hoping the compliment would bring down the price. Sure, he could use his power to make Dirty Dan give it to him for free, but he liked the oaf, and chose not to cheat him. Dirty Dan took out of the case, and gave it to Alan. “Seventy five bucks, installation included,” the latter comment directed at Kate. Kate stared into space, not hearing, or even thinking. Upon hearing Alan say that she was getting a nipple ring, she just shut down all thought processes, her mind unable to deal with the situation.
Alan approached her, the ring resting on his upturned palm. “Well, slut,” he whispered at her, “What do you think?” His voice directed at her snapped her out of her trance, and she looked down. Actually seeing the ring, the ring that would soon be pushed through her nipple made it real for her. As she began really thinking about having a nipple ring her alarm receded, and she started to warm to the idea.
“After all,” she reflected, “I am“ Alan’s slut, and if he wants me to get this then I have no choice.” The total self-realization of her submissive condition was moving to the forefront of her consciousness, and Alan, reading her thoughts, was somewhat astonished by the trains of thought going through her head.
He really hadn’t turned her into a submissive with his power. In fact the last time he controlled her mental processes (as opposed to just her actions) was yesterday in school, when he used his power to make him jump his bones. Everything since then, including their post-fuck conversation when she declared herself to be his slut, Kate was on her own initiative. He wasn’t even using the Seed to force her to have the piercing, and had merely commanded her to follow him into the shop.
After waiting a good thirty seconds for Kate to answer him, he finally received his reply. It was in that same little-girl voice she had used in the bathroom when she begged him to shave her. All she was able to say was, “OK, Alan.”
Alan and Kate followed Dirty Dan into one of the back rooms. Dan pulled a curtain aside and revealed to them was a dentist’s chair. Dan had salvaged it from a dumpster a couple years back, and using a staple gun loaded with wide gauge staples had reupholstered it, after a fashion, with a bunch of batiks he had laying around, souvenirs from his trip to Africa back in the seventies. As Kate settled herself into the chair Dan noticed that she looked a bit green around the gills, though he reasoned that most girls about to get a nipple pierced had that same look. “Hey dude, I gotta ask. The chick eighteen?”
Kate was reaching for her purse to show him her license, but before she could get it out, Alan spoke up. “Yeah man, she’s eighteen.” Alan complemented his statement with a little mental push, and Dan was powerless to do anything but to take him at his word. Dan then explained the whole procedure to them, while Kate took off her shirt and bra. First he was going to spray her nipple with ether, which would make it very cold very fast. Then he would paint it with iodine. The ring itself was already lying in a plastic cup holding an inch of rubbing alcohol at the bottom, to sterilize it. His long needles were on a shelf behind them, in a glass Barbicide jar, and Dan would wipe one off with a bunch of kleenex before driving it through her nipple. Then he would insert the ring, and then use a soldering iron to seal it shut. This would be followed by another swabbing with iodine, and finished off with a sterile dressing held in place by surgical tape. Kate put her bra in her purse, figuring she wouldn’t be able to wear it after the procedure.
“Hey little lady, which nipple?” Kate said nothing, allowing Alan the decision. Alan thought briefly, and told Dan to pierce the left one, so that when he faced her he could play with it with his right hand. Dan was a little suspicious. The chick had barely said a word the whole time the two of them had spent in his shop. “Are you sure you want to do this Hon?” he asked her.
With a barely audible voice Kate told Dan to go ahead with it.
He immediately set to task, and his explanation actually took more time than the deed itself. When Dan started to get her prepped Kate gripped the armrests, her knuckles white as the membership of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Swiftly Dan pressed a thin needle through her left nipple, and Kate huffed and puffed through her clenched teeth, doing her best not to cry out in pain. He twisted it a few times to open up a nice hole, and removed it. He dried the excess alcohol off the ring, and then fed it through the hole. Reaching to the instrument tray he took up the soldering iron and sealed the ring. Before she knew it Kate was bandaged, and was pulling her shirt back on, her bra balled up in her purse. Dan gave Alan a handful of polyskin dressings, plastic bandages about two and a half inches square. They would keep her nipple dry when Kate was in the bath or shower. Alan gave them to Kate, who slipped them in her purse.
Dan took Alan back out to the front of the store, and Alan settled the bill. He pulled five twenties out of his wallet, and told Dan to keep it all. “Take your mom out to dinner tonight,” he suggested.
Dan bellowed with laughter, and then dropped his voice level, “Feel free to bring back anytime for the other nip. Next time I ain’t takin’ a cent over seventy five.”
Alan walked back to get the slut and go. Kate was just getting out of the chair when he pulled at the curtain, and she gave him a weak smile. His pleasure over her new nipple ring gave her a sense of satisfaction and an aura of joy. When he was happy with her, she was happy with herself. Rising unsteadily to her feet she grabbed Alan by the arm to keep her balance. The pain in her nipple was intense, and as they emerged from the rear of the store Dirty Dan was holding a bottle of tequila. He laid three shot glasses on the top of the glass display case, and filled the glasses. Telling Kate that the tequila would take the edge off her pain, he insisted they join him for a pop. Though Kate had never had anything stronger than beer and wine, she immediately agreed, hoping that the alcohol would dull the throbbing pain in her nipple. She took the shot glass in one hand, and Dirty Dan put a warm lemon wedge in the other. Dan knocked back his drink, and then sucked the lemon, and Alan and Kate did the same. Alan slapped Dan on the back and they walked out, Kate holding his arm for dear life, Alan almost holding her up.
Alan and Kate headed back to the center of the mall. Kate seemed to be strengthening the further they got from Dirty Dan’s. They sat in the atrium a bit, her head resting on
Alan’s shoulder. Alan scanned the mall with his mind and saw that Pauline was in Barnes & Noble, drinking a cappuccino while skimming some books she had taken from the shelves. She hadn’t noticed that Kate and Alan had abandoned her. Alan figured to join up with her, and he and Kate rose to go. As he was nearing the bookstore the door to an employee’s bathroom opened and a woman came out. Alan could see thorough the doorway that the bathroom was small and private, just one stall and a sink with a mirror. He stopped the female mall employee and had her come back to unlock the door for him and Kate. “Where are you taking me?” she asked in with an affectless tone in her voice.
Leading her in and making sure the door was locked behind them, Alan pulled Kate’s shirt off her and took her right nipple in his mouth. He bit down on it with half strength, and Kate moaned. Alan put his hands behind her and squeezed her ass, and the tension drained from Kate’s body. Kate undid the button of her blue jeans, and Alan pulled them down as she was slipping off her shoes. Alan, his mouth now off her chest, grabbed her pussy through her panties and began to rub her through the fabric, and Kate started to pant.
He pulled at the fabric from the bottom, slowly drawing her panties down her legs. He thought her bald pussy was pretty, and started slowly massaging his fingers up and down her slit. Kate was starting to make a lot of noise, but Alan wasn’t worried. They were in a locked bathroom, and even of someone came in and caught them he could deal with the situation using the Seed. “Be as loud as you want, baby. No one is going to disturb us in here.” The gyrations of her body caused her panties to fall down all the way to her ankles, and she stepped out of them. Alan stopped rubbing her and pointed to his waistband. She took the hint, and opened his pants and pulled them down.
Alan kicked off his pants and pulled his shirt over his head, then backed her up, his hands on her shoulders as he faced her, marching her backwards two steps, so that her ass was up against the sink top. Leaning down momentarily he grasped her knees to spread her legs, and placed the head of his dick at the gates of her womanhood, holding the shaft in place. He rubbed the tip against her pussy lips, coating them with the small trickle of juices which flowed from within. Pulling it up a bit he passed it over her clit a few times, and Kate gasped loudly. “Do you want it?” Kate nodded. “What do you want?”
“Your penis,” she whispered back.
“Call it a ‘cock,’ slut.”
“Yes, I’m your cock slut. I want your cock.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Please, Alan, please. Fuck me with your cock. I’m so horny I could die.” Her gasping was starting to interfere with her ability to form coherent sentences.
Alan pushed about half of his dick into her, and her head fell back in bliss. “Do you want me to fuck your cunt?” he asked, holding himself still within her. “Maybe you want it in the ass again?”
“Please Alan, fuck me. Do it anywhere you want, but please fuck me.” She was practically yelling. Alan started pumping in and out of her, and when he bottomed out she had an orgasm, her pussy clamping down on his invader.
“Next time, slut. I’ll fuck your slutty ass next time,” he taunted as he kept feeding her his nine inches. “I can’t wait to see your nipple ring. I’ll come over one day this week after school to play with it.” His talk was turning her on, and she could sense another climax approaching. His next statement sent her mind reeling, and she came as he said, “Next weekend we’ll come back, and Dan’s going to pierce this one.” He was pinching her exposed nipple as he said this, and even through her orgasmic haze she knew exactly what he meant. The very idea of it turned her on. At this point she was willing to go right back to Dirty Dan’s and get the other nipple pierced right now.
Alan pulled out after her pussy stopped spasaming, and sat on the toilet seat, leaving the stall door open. “Come here and suck me off,” he commanded, and Kate fell to her knees and crawled over to him. She took all she could in her mouth, about four inches, and began sucking, occasionally removing his penis, “No, his cock,” she thought, from her mouth to lick around the crown and head, and then up and down the shaft before taking it back into her mouth. Just as Kate was beginning to wonder whether Alan would come in her mouth his semen shot out of the pee slit. He hadn’t commanded her to swallow, be she reasoned that a submissive slut like her should always swallow; she hoped that by doing so Alan would be pleased with her.
Alan stuck his head through the half-open door, and then pulled it all the way open, dragging Kate out by the hand behind him. They met Pauline at the bookstore, and then Alan treated the girls to lunch. Pauline was in good spirits, and she and Alan dominated the conversation at the table. Kate mostly kept silent.
Pauline thought her sister, by not joining in the table talk, was being rude to Alan. She was going to give her a good talking to after he dropped them home.