"Make me come, honey! Oh, Bud, make me come!"
Just as Bud felt his release overtake him, felt his jizz shoot up his thick cock shaft and spew out the prick head, he reached down and grabbed Lana around the neck, squeezing hard, cutting off her air.
As she felt him strangling her, felt her body protest by humping and shaking, a powerful orgasm ripped through her cunt, searing her nerves. Her climax jarred her bones and sped her heart up to an alarming rate.
Wad after wad of jism shot from Bud's angry cock and the relief he felt at popping his nuts was so overwhelming that he loosened his grip on the choking girl's throat and neck. She gasped and coughed, sucking in the fresh air she needed.
It was her pitiful rasping and gasping that brought Bud back to his senses. He looked down and saw Lana, not his lust-crazed vision of Vicki. The girl was looking up at him, a wild, crazy expression on her face. And he knew he wouldn't be at peace until he found Vicki Stapleton and taught her a lesson.
CHAPTER THREE
"The ballots have been, counted, and this year's prom queen is… Vicki Stapleton!"
There was oohing and aaahing, polite applause, and some wolf whistles as the beautiful redhead, in her satiny peach-colored dress, ascended the platform.
The young couples on the dance floor and seated at the tables looked on appreciatively. Vicki Stapleton looked like a beautiful young Goddess with her shimmering red hair, her large pointy tits, barely concealed by her low-cut clingy gown and her brightly shining green eyes.
The crowning ceremony did not take long, the prom princesses having been named and congratulated before the queen of the ball was announced. And then Vicki and her escort of the evening, Sam Tomlin, enjoyed a sexy, slow dance by themselves on the dance floor, the lights low, the music soft.
When the lights went up again and the other couples began stepping out on the floor, Vicki excused herself from Sam for a moment, wanting to go to girls' rest room just outside the gym to comb her hair and adjust her crown more attractively before the portrait pictures were taken.
Lana Hague was watching the gorgeous redhead's every move from across the room. "Well, I think this is it," she said, turning to Spike, who looked uncharacteristically dapper in his rented tuxedo.
He nodded gravely, a nervous smile playing about his lips. "I'll be ready," he said.
Lana, in a slinky red gown, grabbed her purse and followed Vicki out of the gym at a safe distance. By the time she walked into the girl's room down the corridor, the redhead was standing before the mirror, the crown lying before her on the sink top.
"God, we just knew you'd win. You look so great – really you do." A flushed, animated sophomore was congratulating Vicki, her shy friend looking on in silent, worshipful admiration.
Damn! Just my luck! Lana thought as she spotted the two underclassmen. The two girls turned and stared shamelessly as the exotic brunette walked in and went directly to a stall.
Lana flushed the toilet and waited impatiently, removing the handkerchief and plastic bottle from her purse. At last she heard the gibbering school girl and her friend take their leave, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The plan might work after all! Her heart was thumping in her chest, and strangely enough, her pussy was creaming. The bathroom was empty now. Slowly and very quietly, she opened, the door of the toilet stall and walked toward the sinks, positioning herself directly behind the prom queen.
Vicki felt the movement behind her and looked up in the mirror to see Lana's reflection. She caught a glimpse of the handkerchief in the girl's hand and then a whiff of the chloroform.
She started to whirl around. "What the…" Lana pounced, clapping the handkerchief over Vicki's nose and mouth, grabbing her around the waist. Vicki began to struggle, jerking and twisting, trying to get free, jabbing her sharp elbow into her attacker's rib cage.
"Aaaaaaah shit!" Lana groaned, wincing with pain. Viciously, she retaliated by punching hard into Vicki's back, knocking all the breath out of her.
Lana, being much bigger and stronger than Vicki, managed to hold her in spite of Vicki's wild defensive movements. Finally, after what seemed an eternity to her, Vicki collapsed and the chloroform-soaked cloth dropped to the floor.
Feeling the girl go limp and lifeless in her arms, Lana dragged her back to one of the bathroom stalls, sat her back on the toilet seat, and locked the stall. Then she shinnied up the door and dropped down by the sinks.
She opened the door to the outside and craned her neck. "Everything clear?" she whispered.
Spike was standing in the shadows by the lockers next to girls' bathroom. "Yeah, hurry up!" he rasped. "It won't be clear for long!"
Lana rushed back into the bathroom and hoisted herself into the stall again. She dragged Vicki across the filthy tile floor and out the heavy door. Spike was waiting there with a large dark dress and coat bag, designed for traveling purposes. The two teens slipped the unconscious girl inside the bag and zipped it up.
"Hurry! Someone's coming!" Lana said, panic-sticken.
A group of giggling girls in long gowns had just stepped outside the gym and they were looking down the corridor in their direction. The night was moonless and very cloudy, so they wouldn't see much.
Lana and Spike hoisted the garment bag between them and headed toward the back parking lot.
Mike and Bud were waiting in the van. As they lifted the precious cargo inside the vehicle, Lana made her way over to the sleek Porsche at the other end of the lot.
From her purse, she pulled out a folded piece of paper, placing it under the windshield wipers. Earlier that week, she had stolen one of the cheerleading schedules from the athletic board. Vicki had written it, and so Lana was able to copy her handwriting while composing the note she was now disposing of. It read:
Dear Sam:
Please forgive me. I met John Camden in the parking lot and realized that it isn't over between us after all. I needed to talk to him. It's beyond my control. Try not to hold it against me, Vicki.
John Camden was the senior class football hero Vicki had dated the year before. The yearbook had called them the perfect couple. Lana smiled, satisfied with her own cleverness. Now Sam wouldn't wonder what had happened to Vicki. They had her all to themselves.
When Vicki awoke, she had a splitting headache. It felt as if there were a sharp stake jammed right between her eyes. As she moved to press her hand to her hot, feverish forehead, she gasped in annoyance. Her hand wouldn't move. She tried again. Something hard and cold was wrapped tightly around her wrist – both wrists, she realized.
"What the…" she opened her eyes and shrieked.
She had to be dreaming. She was lying on a large bed, her hands in manacles. And the manacles were attached by short chains to the bedposts on either side of the headboard.
She whimpered and shivered; the fear she was feeling causing goosepimples to erupt all over her flesh. She looked down at herself and saw that she was bare-ass naked. The room she was in was dark, but a bright light was coming in through a crack under the door.
She could see her plump tits, the nipples lewdly distended with fear, could see her silky cunt muff and her long slender legs stretched out before her. Her legs, too, were manacled and chained. It was surreal. It had to be a nightmare.
She wracked her brain, trying to remember the last thing that happened before she woke up in this room. She had been at the prom, had been crowned queen… she smiled at that. She had been looking in the mirror, and a sullen-faced, dark-haired girl had come up behind her and [missing text].
"Lana Hague!" she gasped.
As if on cue, the door suddenly opened and a tall figure entered the room, flipping on the switch.