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A new song started. A slow song.
Peter pulled her close, into his chest; instinctively, she draped her bare arms over his shoulders and they began to dance, slowly revolving around the dance floor. As they danced, Stacy began to experience the now-familiar feeling of disassociation as the room started to spin. She closed her eyes and held on to Peter’s shoulders, trying to fight off the dizziness. The music and other noise in the room seemed to recede into the background. The drug! They had drugged her; Gary must have arranged this.
Panicked, Stacy tried to disentangle herself, but she was unable to do so. Her limbs failed to respond properly, and it was all she could do to hold onto her dance partner in order to keep herself from sinking to the floor. Around and around they went, each revolution sending Stacy’s perception spi
She felt the warm tingling begin in her groin.
"Stacy…"
A voice! Her eyes opened and struggled to focus on the face in front of her. Peter? Everything else was a blur.
"Do you remember going out with me in high school?"
Remember? Of course she remembered. Stacy nodded in the affirmative, still trying to focus. Why was he asking? The tingle in her groin grew stronger.
"We went on nine dates," Peter murmured to her. "Nine dates…"
Stacy felt one of his hands leave her shoulder, slide down the back of her dress and latch onto her ass. She felt that she should make some objection, but…
"And all I got was one kiss," the voice continued. "One kiss…"
The blonde teenager tried to focus on what Peter was saying, but the hand on her butt was making concentration difficult. She felt the hand pull away…
"One kiss…"
…and begin pulling the zipper of her dress down her back. She tried to wriggle free, but her arms remained wrapped around Peter’s shoulders.
"I don’t think that’s fair. Do you?"
"N-no." Stacy discovered that she could speak, although even her own voice seemed distant to her. The zipper was now all the way down, and she could feel the cool air of the room on the small of her back. The feelings of arousal increased, spreading up from her crotch into her belly. Involuntarily, she ground her lower body against Peter as the dance continued.
"So," Peter continued, "we’re going to work through those dates now. All nine of them. As they should have been."
Stacy tried to shake her head, no. Not here; she wanted him to take her to a bedroom or something… do what he wanted there, but not here. Not in front of…
"First date," he whispered, his tongue licking out at her hear. "A kiss would be nice."
Retreating from her ear, he brought his lips down against hers. She moaned softly, parting her lips, but he quickly pulled away. That felt so good, but not here. Please, not here.
"Second date," he continued. One of the straps of the dress slid off a shoulder. She tried to shrug it back on, but it just slipped further down her arm.
"Maybe some tongue."
This time, he thrust his tongue into her willing mouth. She kissed back, unable to do anything else as a wave of lust surged through her body. Oh god…
The kiss broke, but the dance continued.
The dance continued through the "third date", where he copped a feel of her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Her nipples hardened immediately when he ran his fingers over them.
On the "fourth date", he removed her bra, unclipping it from behind her back and sliding it off. By now, her dress had slid down off the other shoulder, uncovering her back all the way down to the top of her ass and leaving her breasts partly exposed…
More of the same on the "fifth date". Some heavy necking while mauling at her now almost-naked breasts. By now, Stacy was panting with lust, all thought of where she was and who she was with having fled her mind. All that mattered was…
The dance. She missed what he said on the "sixth date", but by the end of the "seventh", she was grinding her crotch against him with abandon…
"Eight date," he panted, hoarse. "It’s time you felt my cock."
She didn’t need to be told twice. Groaning with lust, she disentangled one arm from around his neck and reached down to his crotch. With an ease born of much practice, she pulled down the zipper and slide his cock free of his pants. It was already damp and rigid…
"Ninth date," he gasped. "You need to be fucked." He looked at her. "Beg for it."
"Please fuck me," she moaned. "I need to be fucked. Please put your lovely cock into me, Peter. Fill me up. Please…"
Peter could take no more. He had been dreaming of this moment for over two years. With a cry, he shoved her back against the wall, pulled one of her legs up, and shoved his cock straight into her dripping pussy. The dress, bunched up at the waist to allow him access to her pussy, fell forward, abandoning any pretence of covering her breasts.
Stacy didn’t care.
Holding onto his shoulders, she wrapped both legs around Peter’s ass and fucked him right back as he drove her again and again against the wall. She drooled and slobbered and squirmed out her lust, all the time moaning and crying for him to fuck her harder.
He obliged…
The last trembling vestige of orgasm rippled though her beaten body. Groggy, she looked up from the floor where she sat, propped against the wall. Just as she did so, a flash went off… and then another.
Dazed, the blonde teenager looked around. She was lying, practically naked, against the wall, her green dress a shapeless mess around her waist. A group of people - the guests at the party - were standing around, looking down on her and laughing. A few of them had cameras and were using them. She heard the word "slut" and "whore" coming up in conversation.
Were they talking about her?
Just as had happened before, the orgasm seemed to have burned away the effects of the drugs, leaving Stacy clear-headed and sober. Sobbing with embarrassment, she stumbled to her feet, breasts bobbing merrily, clutching her dress around her as the crowd laughed.
Another flash went off.
The dress didn’t seem torn, and she quickly had it back over her tits, but she was unable to zip it up on her own. Eyes downward, she pushed her way through the crowd, looking for…
"Peter!"
He was standing with a couple of guys near the entrance to the kitchen, drinking a beer. "What… what are you…"
He looked over at her and smirked. "I’d heard that you had become quite a slut since my days at Greenwood. I just wanted to see if it was true."
Stacy stopped talking and began to cry. Yet another flash went off.
"Stop it," she cried, spi
Furious, she turned back to Peter. "Take me home," she ordered. "Now."
Peter just laughed. "Are you kidding? Get home yourself, you slut." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. "Take this," he said, handing it to her. "There’s a bus depot just down the block. There are buses to Bakersville every couple of hours."
Stu
"And Stacy," Peter called out from behind her.
She turned; maybe he was going to give her a ride after all.
"You were worth every pe
The crowd roared with laughter as Stacy, tears ru