Owen VS the Prom Queen (Patreon)

The final chapter in the Owen VS the Senior Class saga!

Big thanks and love to all of you kind, generous perverts!  Thank you for your support! 

Owen VS the Senior Class
Chapter 5
Long Live the Queen

  

Blake was doing her best to tune out the very pretty, very stupid boy droning on next to her in the limo. What was his name? Todd? Tim? Tom? It didn’t matter. He filled out a tuxedo well. The cheap, ugly corsage he fumbled on her wrist had gotten “lost” before they even got in the limo.

She studied her nails instead. A $400 manicure and worth every penny. Her makeup had cost twice that. Her hairstyle quadruple. Her diamond necklace and bracelet cost more to rent for the night than most of her classmates would spend on tuition next year. And her gown – a black strapless couture piece from a rising Italian designer – let’s just say even daddy hesitated at the price tag for that!

From the $900 heels to the 3 karat teardrop diamond earrings, Blake’s status was on display. Only one accessory left to collect- a cheap chrome tiara with plastic diamonds, that would officially recognize her as superior to these bumbling mouth breathers.

The limo pulled up to the hotel, 45 minutes late. Exactly as Blake had planned it; late enough to ensure all eyes on her. She sent Ted or Tony or whatever his name was out the limo, and as trained, he took her hand as she stepped out.

The crowd went silent as Blake slithered from the limo. She flashed a humble, breathless smile and took Tad’s arm as the crowd parted before them. Blake glided effortlessly on her stilettos, almost seeming to float.

Blake spotted Kira, in some bland, blue, off-the-rack gown, although Blake had to grudgingly admit that Kira’s legs did look nice and sexy peeking out the long slit of her dress. She was impressed the demure cheerleader was comfortable with such a display after her humiliating halftime performance. Even though that was months ago, it was still fresh in everyone’s memory.

Speaking of stunning memories from senior year, there was Gwendolyn, the big-boobed theater bimbo. She had her distracting mammaries crammed into a gaudy magenta mess of a dress. Blake almost burst out laughing at the poofy sleeves.

Blake continued her social circuit with Troy, doling out the occasional pleasantry or smile to the few she deemed worthy. At long last it was time to move into the main ballroom. 

As Blake sauntered in on Toby’s arm, she saw something that cracked her regal performance- a shock of purple hair.

Lana was here.

How could that be? Lana was a college student! …unless she was someone’s date.

Dread swallowed Blake’s heart; she knew it before she even saw them. Lana was here as Owen’s date.

Blake’s blood turned to ice water as the unlikely couple emerged from the crowd. Lana was dressed in some hipster vintage gown she probably stole from a funeral home and little Owen looked like a ventriloquist’s dummy hanging on the taller girl’s arm.

“Blake!” Lana chimed sweetly. “You look… nice!” Blake hated that fucking word and Lana knew it.

“Lana, darling! So happy to see you didn’t let a bad day at work drag you down.”

Lana brushed it off. “Never. I believe you know Owen?”

“Only by reputation,” Blake smiled as her eyes shot daggers. Owen became instantly fascinated in his shoes. “What an interesting couple you two make! How ever did you meet?”

“Funny story!” Lana laughed. “After I ran into you at Big Boss’ last week, I saw him get out of your SUV.” Lana gently stroked Owen’s hair. “I said to myself ‘if Blake knows him, he must be good people.’ So I gave him a ride home and we hit it off.”

Blake was having an unpleasant bout of déjà vu. “Really. You gave him a ride. Even in the… state you were in?”

“This fine young gentleman gave me the shirt off his back!” Lana gushed. “Literally!”

If Blake had Owen’s telekinetic powers, Owen’s head would be exploding right about now. She was done with these two.

“Lovely,” Blake sang. “Have a wonderful time, you two.” Blake dragged her arm candy onward before she had an explosive bout of brutal honesty.

She tried to get back to her happy place, basking in the glamour and adoration of her lessers. However, Blake could not stop thinking about how, to preserve the clean elegant lines of her dress, she opted to wear no underwear whatsoever.

Blake was not about to ruin her hair or her makeup lurching around with some half-drunk peasants to some crappy pop track, but a slow dance did strike a more proper note. She even made an effort to “gaze lovingly” into Tad’s dull eyes, for the sake of appearances.

Then she saw Owen and Lana dancing together. She needed to nip this in the bud. Now.

Blake dismissed Tyler to his cadre of sweaty jocks and sauntered over to the awkward couple.

“May I cut in?” It wasn’t a question. Lana smiled and excused herself. Own stuffed his racing heart back down his throat.

She manually placed his hands on her hips and draped her arms on his narrow shoulders.

“Hi Owen.” Own mumbled something back that might have been translated as a greeting. “You have big plans tonight?”

Owen didn’t have an answer; he just did his best to ignore Blake’s tits, inches from his face.

Blake leaned in close, letting her lips brush against his ears. “What are you playing at, Big Guy?”

Blake felt her gown slip just a little down her hips. Her cleavage swelled, breasts threatening to pop free.

“That’s it?” she laughed. “You think you’ll teach me a lesson just by exposing me? You think I’m one of these simple blushing high school bitches?”

Blake tugged the bodice of her gown, slipping out a soft pink nipple. She shoved it into Owen’s gaping mouth, almost smothering him. “You. Are. Not. On. My. Level.”

Blake uncoupled from Owen’s quivering gob and adjusted her gown. She patted the boy on the head and sauntered away. That should teach him…

But it didn’t…

Blake suddenly became aware of a peculiar sensation between her well-pedicured toes. A soft, probing sensation… as if someone was sucking on her toes!

Blake’s eyes flashed in horror. She looked back to see Lana whispering in Owen’s ear, smiling. Lana, her ex-lover, who knew Blake’s ever kink and turn-on and had even invented a couple of new ones.

And because she knew… now Owen knows.

Blake clenched her jaw and steeled her nerves. She wasn’t some slut, a slave to her little carnal urges. Did they really expect her to turn into a moaning whore because of some cheap tricks?

Yet still the sucking sensation continued… and  intensified.

Blake fled the dance floor, but the invisible molestations followed. She could feel firm hands sliding up her calves, massaging them.

Fuck, she thought. She had forgotten about the calves. The lake house. Last summer. Lana had gotten her off with nothing but a long, slow calf massage. And some wine.

It was easy enough to put the gentle kneading out of mind. But the memory was… distracting. She scanned the crowd. No sign of Lana or Owen, but clearly they were focusing on her.

Phantom fingernails gently raked down the bare skin of her back. Blake nearly screamed out loud. Her entire body shivered in gooseflesh. A second set of ghostly nails traveled from her shoulder blades to the crack of her ass.

Blake’s knees buckled and her nerves tingled. Wearing this very sexy, very expensive dress had already turned her on a little. She had been seriously considering favoring Toby or Tad or whatever his name was with an enthusiastic blowjob later on, if he behaved himself- but now Owen’s telekinetic foreplay was seriously exacerbating things. 

She was parched; she realized she was breathing out her mouth. Blake considered retreating to the Ladies room, hiding in a stall, and letting Owen have his pervy jollies until one or both of them got off. Under better circumstances, that might even be hot, but she had business to attend to.

When would they announce the Prom Queen? Minutes? Hours?

Blake saw Vice Principal Dickerson standing near the stage, in a conservative getup best described as “Mother of the Groom.” Blake made her way over, struggling to keep her balance- doubly so as a pair of invisible hands traced the curve of her buttocks.

“Vice Principal Dickerson! H-hello, you look very lovely” Blake said sweetly.

“Hello Blake. As do you.” Vice Principal Dickerson had only recently worked up the courage to make eye contact with her students, after her humiliating denuding in the gym.

“Do you know when the coronation will haaa-happen?” Owen’s telekinetic hands were growing more aggressive, squeezing and kneading the flesh of her ass. Blake caught herself arching her back, leaning into the unseen massage.

“It will happen when it happens, Blake.” Dickerson said flatly. “Go enjoy yourself.”

And that was precisely Blake’s problem; the busy little hands squeezing and spreading her ass and thighs were coaxing more than a little moisture from her pussy. And Blake moved on from Dickerson, the motion of her thighs was spreading her juices.

Were they watching her? They had to be. Blake scanned the crowd. 

Maybe they had some secret hiding spot. Somewhere Lana could tease Owen just like Blake had, to inspire him. Lana with her gown hiked up around her waist, panties down to her knees, letting Owen grope her ass—

And slide a finger along her labia!

“Fuck--!” Blake exclaimed, drawing some puzzled looks. She grabbed the nearby shoulder of some dork in a tux, and suddenly found herself guest-starring in his selfie. She forced a smile, in spite of the eager phantom fingers exploring between her legs. If it weren’t for the loud music, everyone nearby would surely hear the sopping wet manipulations between her legs.

Just as Blake was starting to collect herself, a spectral pair of lips latched on to her nipple, the same she had teased Owen with just minutes ago. Although these lips were much more enthusiastic.

Blake suddenly realized Owen’s nipple play was making her tit jiggle and undulate in the most bizarre way. Italian designer gowns were not designed for super-powered foreplay; the bodice slipped and Blake’s tits spilled out!

Blake yelped and stuffed her breasts back into the dress, but not before more than a few of her classmates noticed and giggled. Still the playful assault on her nipple continued, and Blake was forced to support her bodice with both hands.

Flushed and dizzy, she needed to sit down, but she dare not for fear of leaving a wet spot on her dress. She leaned against a chair to steady herself, a shimmer of sweat forming under her perfect makeup.

Owen’s telekinetic torment of her sensitive nipples ended, but before she could enjoy the respite—

Blake felt a kiss. On her inner thigh. Then another one, a little higher up. Oh shit…

Where the hell were they? Was Lana discretely sitting at one of the tables, tablecloth hiding Owen as the little pervert climbed ever higher between her legs.

Another kiss. Blake clenched her thighs, feeling her own juices slide across her skin. Which was not doing a damn thing to calm her down.

Another kiss, and another. Did Owen even know his way around… down there? Wasn’t he a virgin? 

Had Lana spent the past week training this little creep? She knew her way around a pussy, that’s for sure, but was that slut willing to spend hours letting some high school dork practice on hers?

Blake got her answer. A telekinetic “mouth” found her pussy. A shockwave of pleasure racked her body. It wasn’t a single mouth or a single tongue exploring her; it felt like dozens! Licking, stroking, probing, thrusting… she had no idea Owen was capable of this.

Back arching, she reflexively spread her legs as wide as the gown would allow. Her pussy had become a waterfall. She could hear the drip drip drip on the ballroom floor.

The music faded. The voice of Vice Principal Dickerson came over the speakers—

“Hello students! You all look wonderful! The time had come to crown our Prom King and Queen!”

Obligatory applause. Blake was desperately trying to steel herself against the psychic assault on her body. She was only dimly aware of them announcing the King, her eyes rolling back in her head.

And then it stopped. Her tender nipples, her tingling pussy, her sweat-soaked flesh, deserted. She was almost angry.

“And our Prom Queen… Blake Whitney!” announced Dickerson with feigned enthusiasm.

Blake snapped back to the present, and sauntered to the stage, ignoring the slick mess of unbridled arousal splashing between her thighs.

As Blake had rehearsed a thousand times, she feigned shock and delight as she crested the stage. She fanned herself, like some doe-eyed beauty contestant. She wiped away an imaginary tear as Vice Principal Dicker placed the cheap plastic crown on her head and the royal scepter in her hands.  She approached the microphone and lowered her eyes in a moment of mock humility.

Blake looked at the rented stage under her $900 shoes, and she realized something—they’re under the stage. Lana and Owen are directly beneath her—

The psychic attack on her body returned, redoubled! A hint of a moan escaped Blake’s mouth, amplified by the microphone. They were under her. They were right under her… inside her… doing things. Lana knew every single place to hit. Every sensitive spot, and Owen’s powers were ravaging her with the hormonal enthusiasm of a teenaged virgin.

Blake swooned. Everyone wrote it off to the emotional experience, or to those that knew Blake, a convincing simulation. Why would anyone think her ex-lover and the psychic wunderkind she exploited were driving her into sexual frenzy in front of her entire class?

Blake could smell sex, could hear the wet slapping, but she couldn’t be sure if it was Lana and Owen under the stage or the pantomime under her clothes. All she knew was she had to get off that stage before she had the wettest, filthiest orgasm of her life in front of a mob of gawking peasants.

Turning her into a moaning whore in front of her teachers and classmates was humiliating- almost more humiliating that she could endure. But it was the fact that the thought of that humiliation was turning her on even more! An alpha woman like Blake was surely above such debasement… but here she was, gushing wet and moaning at the anticipation of becoming a public sex toy.

She took an uneasy step back—but her gown did not. The hem remained glued to the stage. Anchored by psychic force. To a Machiavellian bitch like Blake, the ultimatum was clear; strip nude and leave or stay and cum.

She couldn’t’ even weigh the decision. Blake’s nervous system was a thunderstorm. She felt the wetness between her legs creep backwards, upwards, gliding between her butt cheeks.

“No, not the butt…” she whimpered. The last frontier. The one place she never let Lana –or anyone- play.

“Yes. The butt,” came back Lana’s voice, from beneath the stage.

One the telekinetic tongues devouring her broke from the pack. Slipped between her gym-firm glutes and found Blake’s most vulnerable spot. The spot she had never admitted to ever playing with but Lana suspected. Lana knew.

The orgasm electrified her body. Blake tumbled to her knees, still clutching her scepter. Her tits, sweaty and swollen, spilled from her bodice. Laughter and cheers filled the ballroom. 

Delirious, Blake crawled to escape, her fancy Italian gown peeling down her sweaty, perfect figure. Pale pink nipples and smooth tanned flesh quivered in the harsh stage lights. Rocking, humping against the invisible assailing force.

Dickerson was overwhelmed. Flashing back to her own humiliation, but sweetened at the sadistic satisfaction of this spoiled bitch getting dressed down, literally. 

The cataclysmic orgasm was obliterating Blake’s mind. All she knew was she needed to escape. She writhed and twisted out of the tight gown.

Seams creaked. The zipper burst. Blake’s quivering ass and hairless pussy emerged like a butterfly from a chrysalis

She was free. She could run… and then the next orgasm hit. Blake arched and twisted and bucked. Still clutching her precious scepter, is bulbous head squeezed between her sweat-soaked tits, and the pommel found itself pressed to her clit.

“FFuuuu… fuuuuuck…. Oh god damn…. Fu-uuu-uuck meee!” Blake moaned and squealed like a whore. Juices squirted and dribbled from her aching kitty. After what seemed like hours of mind-scrambling pleasure, Blake collapsed, trembling and exhausted. 

It was Kira that came to her aid first. Racing to the stage and draping a shawl over the orgasmic blonde. Kira, that helped her to her feet, evacuated to the sanctuary of a stall in the Ladies room. 

And it was Gwendolyn that brought her a towel and fresh clothes to wear; yoga pants and a tank top from the workout bag in the trunk of her car. Blake couldn’t quite fill out the tank the way Gwendolyn did, but she was thankful nonetheless.

And it was Vice Principal Dickerson that drove Blake home, in her well-used Toyota. The women didn’t exchange a word. The Vice Principal’s head was full of questions, none of which she was sure she wanted answered.

Blake still clutched the scepter and crown as they pulled into the driveway of her family’s affluent home. As she opened the door, she smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

Hours later, across town, Owen stumbled drunkenly from a rusty vintage pickup. 

Lana leaned out the window. “Hey. Just you understand- this… you and me… it’s purely a sex thing.  Got it?”

Owen stared at her blankly.

“Blink twice if you got it.”

Owen blinked once. 

Lana smiled and blew him a kiss. Her rusty pickup rolled away towards the rising sun.