Halloween was in full swing when the University Theater Department announced they were taking over the music building for a haunted house.  It would run for one night only at the end of the month, and all of the proceeds would be split between the theater department and the library.

It was Mike’s idea to go; he saw “library” on the poster, and he knew I would be all about it.

“Are you sure you want to go, Geena?” teased Mike as I stuck the flyer to my fridge with a magnet.  “It looks pretty scary.  Oooooooo.  Spooky!”

I rolled my eyes.  “I’m a big girl, Mike.  I think I can handle a bunch of freshmen jumping out at me.  But thanks for your concern.”

“You’re not as brave as you say you are.  I’ve seen you close your eyes before during horror films,” Mike teased.

I grabbed him into a playful headlock, squishing his face against the side of my boob.  “You’re being a brat today, aren’t you?  I’m not scared… and in fact, I’ll make a bet with you.  Biggest coward at the end of the week has to suck the other one’s cock.”

“Deal,” said Mike immediately, sticking out a hand.  I let him go so that we could shake on it solemnly.  “But how do we tell who’s the bigger coward?”

“We’ll go to the haunted house, of course!  First one to scream loses.”

I was worried, for just a moment, that Mike would try to make more conditions for our little wager… but he agreed and that was that.  My plan was in motion.  I knew how to make him scream, and the haunted house would be the perfect place to do it.  After all… screams are expected in a haunted house.

I called up some of the girls at Zeta Kappa Theta and arranged for Mike and I to volunteer.  What can I say?  I just love supporting a good charity event, and serving up Mike as my contribution was something I knew we could both enjoy.

On the night of the haunted house, we met under the streetlamp outside of the music building.  Mike jogged up in a pair of grey sweatpants and a jacket.  I frowned.  “Why aren’t you wearing a cute Little Red Riding Costume?” I asked innocently.  “I thought we agreed that red is your color.  It’s not very Halloween-y to not be in costume!”

Mike flushed, then looked over my outfit.  I had pulled on a warm pair of black, lace-up boots, a tight pair of jeans, and a long-sleeved black shirt.  “You’re not in costume, either.  …are you going to be warm enough without a sweater?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“Oh, don’t worry, I brought extra clothes with me,” I said, holding up my black bag for him to see before slinging it over my shoulder.  “Ready, spaghetti?”

“Ready!” said Mike.  “Can’t wait to hear you screaming.”

“In your dreams!” I said.  We linked arms together and walked into the lobby to buy tickets.  As the cashier handed them over to me and I turned, Mike jumped up into my face. 

“BOO!”

I tsked and held out his ticket, unimpressed.  “Cheating much, Mike?”

“That’s not cheating.  We never made a rule against jumping out at each other.  Everything’s fair game once you’ve bought the tickets,” he said.

“Well, you’ll have to try harder than that!” I replied, laughing as we approached the entrance.  It was a plain black door marked with a “bloody” sign that said: BEWARE.  A red-haired volunteer checked our tickets with a flashlight and then grinned, revealing vampire fangs.  He opened the door for us and gestured for us to enter; I flashed a smile back at him as we stepped into the dark space.

It was your typical college haunted house; the first room was all fake cobwebs and recorded voices cackling hauntingly.  We crossed the dark, Victorian-style room slowly; at the end was a couch, and as expected, someone jumped out at us from behind it.  “Who daressss dissssturb the Housssse of M?” she hissed.

“…We do?” guessed Mike.

I put my hand up to my mouth, trying not to laugh and pretending to cough instead.

“Procccced at your own rissssk, but heed my warning: not all who travel thesssse cursssed hallssss will make it out alive!” she hissed, cackling a little over-dramatically.  I tried to look scared because I could tell she was giving it her best.

We stepped into the next room, a dining room, where a single serving dish was sitting on a long table.  A butler in a tattered uniform greeted us.

“You seemed scared already,” whispered Mike.

“I’m just being nice.  The theater kids worked really hard on this,” I whispered back.

“Ah.  The guests have arrived.  I hope you enjoy our… special course!” he said, pulling the top off of the platter.  A fake head was on it; it rolled off the table, hitting the floor with a rubbery thunk.  “Oh, shit,” said the butler in a normal voice, bending down to chase it as it rolled away.

Mike and I leaned into each other, dissolving into silent laughter as we made our way into the kitchen.

The kitchen was dark, the fake-wooden cabinets covered with more fake cobwebs.  I slipped my bag from my shoulder stealthily while Mike looked around.

“Is there like, supposed to be someone in here…?” he wondered in confusion, turning toward me.  “I don’t feel like this haunted house was worth twenty bucks a ticket, to tell you the truth.”

“I agree.  Most people are only coming for the last room.  It’s nothing much without… the big finale.”

“The what?” asked Mike, cocking his head.  But I’d already given the signal.  From the cabinets, three pledges jumped out and lunged at Mike.  Mike was expecting people to jump out at him, of course, but not to grab his arms.  “Hey, wait a minute!” he exclaimed.  But it was too late.

From my bag, I’d pulled a black hood.  It was already in my hands when they grabbed Mike; as quick as lightning, I yanked it over his head.  I hugged his wrapped head, shushing him, stroking his hair through the fabric.  “Relax, Mike,” I murmured soothingly.  “This is all part of the experience.”

Soothed by my words, Mike let the pledges march him out.  I took the opportunity to change.  I set my bag on the counter and stripped off my clothes, letting my breasts bounce free from the confines of my shirt and shivering with the erotic pleasure of being naked in a place where someone might walk in on me.  But I couldn’t leave Mike waiting!  I pulled on the robe I’d packed, and snapped open the peaked black witch hat, putting it at a jaunty angle before I slung my bag back over my shoulder and strolled through the house to the final room.

I’d gotten the idea for the last room from an old movie called Harpies from Neptune or something.  It was made to look like a witch’s dungeon, and the idea was that the audience would witness a dark ritual.

We had a fake cauldron bubbling with smoke off to the side, and a few electric torches, but the centerpiece was the St. Andrew’s cross in the middle.  Made of wood painted black and shaped like an X, it was mounted on a small, rotating platform on stage.  The theater kids had put more work into this set piece than the rest of the haunted house combined.

The three pledges from Delta Theta Kappa turned to me as I entered.  They had been instructed not to do anything until I arrived.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you, Mike.  …I actually signed us up to volunteer tonight,” I said.

“You what?” he repeated, voice muffled just a little by the hood.

“Strip him,” I commanded, and the three pledges began to pull at Mike’s clothes.  Thank goodness he’d worn sweatpants.

“Hey, wait…!” he protested.

“What are you going to do, Mike?  …scream?” I asked, a smile on my lips.  “Wouldn’t want to lose the bet, though, would you?”

“…ohh.  I see what this is!” he said.  “That’s cheating, Geena!”

“That’s not cheating.  We never made a rule against it.  Everything’s fair game once you’ve bought the tickets,” I mimicked back to him.

Mike went silent, letting the pledges pull his shirt over his head and his pants down, clearly surprised that I’d remembered his words and been able to lob them back at him.  He cupped his hands in front of his groin once he was naked; I stepped forward and pushed his hands aside.

“No need to be modest, Mike.  No one can see you; you’re wearing a hood.”

“The hood means I can’t see them, not that they can’t see me!” cried Mike, trying to hide himself again.  I could see why; he, like me, was responding to the cool air on his bare skin, and his cock was beginning to rise to attention.  Mike was always sheepish about how responsive he was; it was one of my favorite things about him.

“Well, they won’t recognize you, at least.  And if you want to see, look, it’s got eye-holes.”  I reached up to pull a couple of small, zippered holes open.  Mikes’s warm eyes looked out at me, embarrassed but also curious at my new outfit.

“You changed,” he observed. 

“Do you like it?” I asked, sticking  a plump leg out teasingly and hitching up the hem of my deep purple robe for him, then reaching up to massage my breasts.  Looking down, Mike’s erection was growing bigger and bigger; though his face was obscured by the black bag, I knew he was probably licking his lips and imagining kissing my nipples and suckling on them, getting lost in my heavy pair of tits.  “I make a good witch, huh?” I prompted.

“Witches are supposed to be ugly.  You look like a priceless work of art,” he replied.

I smiled at the compliment and set a warm, gentle hand on his waist.  “I’m a good witch.  Like Glinda.  And let me tell you something, Dorothy… you’re not in Kansas anymore.”  I winked, then reached down to run my nails lightly down the length of his shaft.  He whimpered and struggled against the pledges holding him.  “Go ahead and enjoy yourself, Mike.  It’s not like you have any choice.  Besides, with that bag on your head, no one will know it’s you.”

“Except you keep using my name!” he whispered loudly.

“I won’t once the performance starts!”

“Performance??  Geena, what are you talking about?  Hey, wait!” cried Mike as the pledges dragged him over to the cross.  They pulled his arms up to cuff his wrists to the top, and knelt to cuff his wrists to the bottom, spreading him eagle for me, his back exposed, his chin resting in the fork at the top of the X.

“Is this good, Miss Geena?” asked one of the pledges.

“This is perfect, pledge.  …I supposed you’d like to be rewarded for a good job done?” I said, smiling as I paced around Mike, thinking about the best places on stage to put my toys for what was coming next.  “Pledges.  Remove your cocks from your robes, please,” I said authoritatively.

“Yes, Miss Geena,” said the three pledges, hitching up their robes.  Like me, they had chosen to go commando.  Smart boys.  The breezy swish of the robe on my ass felt amazingly titillating; the way it whispered over my curves made me feel rapturous.

“Grasp those cocks for me and begin pumping.”

“Geena!” whimpered Mike, eyes widening behind his mask as he squirmed helplessly, his own hard cock bobbing.  Like his face, it was perfectly framed in the fork of the X.  A mouth on top, a cock on bottom… a girl’s wet dream, the way the cross framed Mike for me, making sure all the most important parts were accessible!

“Glinda,” I corrected him.  “I’m a good witch.  Remember?” I said, giving his bare ass a little spank to remind him.  “The last pledge to finish,” I announced, leaning against the St. Andrew’s cross casually to watch the pledges enjoy themselves, “will be serving me for the rest of the evening.”

I watched in amusement as the three boys slowed down, working their hard-ons for me with desperate looks, wanting to remain for the upcoming show.  I tugged my robe up a little more, showing a bit more leg, suggesting wordlessly where the expanse of my thighs led: to the soft, plump, and currently unbound pussy between them.

One of the pledges came into his palm.  He looked disappointed in himself; I smiled at him.  “It’s okay, pledge.  You did your best.  Come and leave your mark with the volunteer before you leave.”

The spent pledge approached slowly, in an almost venerable manner.  I grasped his wrist and pulled his hand forward to smear his cum down Mike’s leg.  I heard Mike’s breath catch a little at the gooey sensation on his skin, his senses no doubt heightened by the hood, which allowed only the tiniest of windows for him to see through.

“Pledges, approach!” I called.

The remaining two stepped forward.

“You have your target,” I said, gesturing to Mike.

I strolled behind him and, from my bag, pulled out one of my smaller, fatter floggers, a ten-tongued tease that I knew drove Mike wild.  I began to gently drag the tails along his back and shoulders, a hint of what was to come, and I felt him relax at the familiar build-up.

I waited to see the anxiety drain from his muscles before I began to gently flog him, bringing the tails against his shoulders with an even, steady stroke that was more like a massage than a beating.

Mike moaned, and I heard another pledge whimper as he climaxed at the sound.  I pulled up on my swings, making the arc of the flogger shorter, the momentum greater, offering Mike a few cathartic, heavy blows before I stopped to slither the tails over his back one last time, producing a delicious full-body shudder.

I stepped up close to him, pressing myself against him and standing on my tippy-toes to peek over his shoulder.  The pledge who had caved had spurted his cum perfectly down Mike’s leg.  Mike was breathing heavily, pressed down under me, his body softened from the flogging.  His muscles were supple; he felt calm under me, in a good place.  A jolt of satisfaction shot through me at his acceptance for this strange new game we were playing.

“You did great, Mike,” I murmured gently into his ear, my lips brushing the black hood over his head.  “Good job.”

Then, I turned to the final pledge, who looked very pleased at his stamina and was still gripping his thick, hard cock in his hand.  He wasn’t as well-endowed as Mike but he had nothing to be ashamed of, either.  “Pledge, I need the candle.”

“Yes, Miss!” he chirped, and turned to hurry off, leaving me draped over Mike’s bare back, and Mike still strapped to the cross, another man’s cum dripping down his inner thighs, his own unattended staff stationed full and proud between his legs, probably wishing it would be allowed to release its load.

“…they’ve got it easy, don’t they?” I mused, stroking Mike’s back as I watched the pledge scurry to go get my candle.  “I mean, stage hands are pretty under-appreciated, but they’re also not nearly as scrutinized as the performers are.  Not that I think our audience will have anything to complain about this evening!  We’re going to put on an amazing show.”

“Wait, show??  Audience??  Geena, tell me what’s going on!” insisted Mike.

“Well, Mike, like you said.  This haunted house isn’t really worth $20 per ticket… so I offered to host a special performance at the end to help draw people in.  After all, it’s helping to fund the theater program and the library,” I said, giving one of my riding crops a test thwack across my palm.  I saw Mike’s body tense at the sound; a bead of precum dribbled slowly from the head of his penis to the stage in a string as thin as a spider web. 

“We’re going to perform?” he gasped.

“No, I’m going to perform.  You’re just a prop,” I said.  “The best prop this show has ever seen!  Ah, thank you, pledge,” I added, as the pledge returned to offer me a long, red candle.  I went to my bag to get a lighter.

“Miss Geena, the first group is coming in.  Are you ready?” he asked.

“No,” said Mike in the bag.

“Yes,” I said, straightening up, the candle in my hand.

The lights went off, and Mike whimpered.  I stepped forward and cupped one of his ass cheeks in my hand.

The first group of college kids shuffled in nervously, murmuring; then the lights came on, and then all squealed with excitement, their cries of fake fear turning into cat-calling at the sight of a live, naked man tied up before them.

“Welcome, children, to my Halloween ritual!  You have made it through the house of a thousand horrors and now, your reward is to witness a witch take her pleasure as she can only once a year, on All Hallow’s Eve!  Behold my sacrificial victim; see how he enjoys the exquiste torture I bestow upon his flesh!” I cried.  Not to brag, but I totally ad-libbed those lines.  I gestured broadly at Mike, pointing down toward his rock-hard erection; I saw him squeeze his eyes shut through the eye-holes of the mask.  I bet he was beet red under there! 

The group watching clapped, the girls giggling and pointing with admiration at Mike’s thick, well-endowed body.

I raised the candle; the top of the tapered stick was growing soft.  I gave it a wave; several beads of wax dripped down, falling over Mike’s ass.  Mike gasped so loudly that our audience heard it.

I leaned in to whisper to him, and to him alone.  “If you agree to cede the bet, I’ll stop…”

I could tell Mike was gritting his teeth with determination.  “No!” he whispered back.

“Your choice…”  I held the candle over his backside, letting the red wax melt into a gooey mess and drip down over the surface of his ass, warming his sensitive skin to almost unbearably hot temperatures that rapidly cooled into a perfectly molded cast.  First liquid and then flexible, it dripped down thickly, mirroring the pre-cum produced by his cock. 

Mike squirmed helplessly on the cross; to the spectators, maybe it looked like I was burning him, but of course I would never do that. 

I drew back after several minutes and blew out the candle, holding it out so the pledge attending me could scurry up to take it.  I stepped off the cross’s platform to rotate it, displaying Mike’s ass to the audience, the hard wax that had dried and formed a seal over it.  “Doesn’t that look just like a candied apple!” I exclaimed.

The audience burst out laughing; I thought I heard Mike groan.  I reached in between his legs to tickle his balls and he squirmed helplessly.

“Wax, of course, isn’t the only way to make an ass red,” I said, peeling off the wax slowly to give Mike’s skin plenty of time to feel the tingle of the peel and the sudden shock of being bare again.  “Tell me, my children of the night, how many days are in the month of October?”

“THIRTY-ONE!” they shouted.

“Thirty-one indeed!” I said, and with a witch’s cackle, I dropped the dried wax to the floor, wound up, and began delivering a series of slaps onto Mike’s ass, snapping my wrist to produce the loudest spank noises for the audience.  I saw Mike’s knees buckle, but he was still tied to the cross, and he had no choice but to accept the spanking while a group of people he probably had classes with watched, enchanted.

“Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty… thirty-one!” I finished.  My hand was hot from the spanking, but Mike’s ass was even hotter, his buttocks tender and buzzing with electricity; I could help but give him an encouraging squeeze! 

“What a delicious morsel of a mortal you are.  So responsive to my touch… and all tied up for me to use!  Spell-bound, you might say!” I added, reached up to give his cuffed hands a little tap.  I slid my hand down the length of his arm and dipped down to his chest to pinch one of his nipples, eliciting a thin whine.  I rolled the hardening nub between my fingers, squeezing it and tugging on it playfully.

In the back of the room, I saw the pledge give me a wave.

“Poor victim… he made a mistake when he made a deal with me!  This Halloween, beware, my children, beware… don’t make deals with witches after midnight!” I said  “Mua-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

The lights went out as a recording of thunder played, and the pledge shooed the group out of the room.

The lights went up.  “Wow!  That was so fun!” I said.

“You could do theater, Miss Geena.  That performance was amazing!” said the pledge reverently, reaching down to adjust his crotch.  There was a tent in his robes.  His erection had probably never actually left in the first place.

“Okay, Geena, good job.  You embarrassed me.  …can we go home now?” asked Mike pitifully.

“Are you ceding the bet?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

“No.”

“…then we’re not done.  Besides, this performance is for a good cause!”

“Yeah, the haunted house wouldn’t be anything without you two,” added the pledge, looking a little jealous.  “The next group should be here in a minute so get ready.”

“Next group?!” repeated Mike.

“Yep.  One group every five minutes, Mike.  But don’t worry, I won’t let it get boring,” I said, pulling my strap-on harness from my bag and hitching it up under my robe.  “Isn’t that how they tell people to get over stage fright?  To pretend they’re naked?  …or is it the audience you’re supposed to pretend is naked?  Well, I just picture everyone’s naked and that works out pretty great.”

“Geeeena!” he whined, but then the lights went down and the next group came in.  I picked up my riding crop and slid it down Mike’s spine; when the lights came on, his spread body was on full display, his penis pointing to the audience and twitching upwards with every smack of the crop on the back of his thighs.

“Remember, children of the dark… don’t make deals with witches!  You will always come out… behind!” I said, giving his ass a particularly thick smack.  The audience loved that, but their cheers got even louder when I pulled out a vial of “potion” to rub between Mike’s legs.  It was just lube, of course, but I made a big show of rolling it over his balls and pushing my fingers up into his hole to get him ready.  It turns out, you can edge an audience, too; they were frenzied with excitement by the time I wrapped my arms around Mike’s waist, leaned in with my breasts pressed to his back, and hitched up my robe to rub the strap-on between his legs. 

A moaned escaped him; one of the people in our audience shouted, “Fuck him!  Fuck him!”

“Not until the midnight hour will he feel my wand’s fullest power!” I replied.

The audience groaned with disappointment as the lights shut down and the thunder played the end of their tour.  As they were ushered out, I heard one of them asking the pledge if they could get tickets to the midnight showing.

“Geena,” gasped Mike, rocking his hips, thrusting his hard cock into the empty air.  “Please… please fill me up.”

“Do you cede the bet?” I demanded sternly.

“Yes.  I cede!  You win!  You’re braver than me, and I’m just a scaredy-cat and a coward!”

I hummed against him, teasing the tip of the strap-on against his hole.  “You’re not just a scaredy-cat, or a coward, Mike.  You’re an amazing person who’s always challenging himself and growing braver every day, and I love that about you.  You’ve been brave tonight, getting in front of an audience and letting them watch you like this.  And I’m so proud of you for that.  …I knew I’d win the bet, of course, but I’m still very, very impressed with you.  You’ve done great.”  I kissed the back of his neck.

I heard him sigh as I slipped the silicone shaft into his greedy little hole and began gently fucking him.  “Oh, yeah… Geena… thank you…” he sighed with satisfaction.

“Next group incoming!” hollered the pledge.

“…wait, we’re still doing this?” asked Mike in alarm as I pulled the dildo out of him.

“I told you, I volunteered.  Our shift runs for over three hours, Mike,” I said in exasperation.  “Until midnight!”

“Three hours?!”

The lights came up and I flung out my arms in greeting.  “WELCOME, CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT!  Behold as my victim suffers the pleasures of darkness until he succumbs to madness!”  I bit down on Mike’s shoulder playfully, grinding my cock into his ass.

“…noooooo!” wailed Mike, squirming desperately, his hard, dripping shaft arching up with a barely-withheld orgasm as the audience applauded, looking impressed by his acting skills.

Mike may not actually be braver than me, but I’ll give him credit where credit is due.  He was the best prop in that entire show, and his performance was second to none!