The porch light flicked off. The lady of the house blew out the candle in the jack o’ lantern. She stretched theatrically, making sure her pronounced breasts were visible poking out of the tiny nightie she wore that night. It was old and barely fit her. It didn’t even try to cover her ass. She smiled, knowing she had shoved it up into the air proudly when she took care of the pumpkin.
She blew a little kiss and walked back inside. This incited a moan from the boy. The strapping lad looked like he was a victim of a fraternity hazing gone wrong. Bound tight in ropes and left dangling from a hook on the roof of the porch. He wanted to call for her but feared another spanking. Surely, she wouldn’t leave him out here all night. Hell, he hadn’t known what this woman was going to do at any given moment that night.
It had started as a far more normal Halloween for Milo Cortez. In other words, he was miserable. While everyone else was out celebrating the Night of Nights, he was stuck at home handing out candy. His mother insisted on it. She was paranoid someone was going to egg the house or even break in and rob the place. What a croc. The worst part? He still had to wear a damn costume. ‘Get in the spirit,’ she would tell him. ‘They won’t egg us if you’re in costume too.’ Clearly, she had never been a child.
So, he sat there on the porch dressed like Tarzan, feeling like as much of a fool as he knew he looked.
“My, why such a long face?”
He sighed, not bothering to even bothering to look up at the woman. He just held up the bowl for her kids to take a piece. They did not. Instead, a soft feminine hand placed itself on top of his and began to stroke it.
“Come on, it can’t be all that bad.”
Surprised by the sudden touch he looked up at her. He didn’t get a look at her face. Instead, he got a good view of her generous cleavage. He stuttered and spat. Try as he might, the words would not come out. All he could do was look at her boobs in the tight little explorer’s outfit she wore.
“You look like you’re in need of a fun night out. Why don’t you come with me?”
“I…I can’t. I have to watch the house.”
He never tore his eyes away from her tits.
“Jungle Boy, that wasn’t really a question.”
She removed the whip from the strap on the side of her costume. She took the bowl from him and set it aside. She then took his hands and helped him to his feet.
She wrapped the whip around his arms. It felt real, not a cheap plastic prop. Once his arms were secure, she lowered them and wrapped the whip around his waist, binding him more. Milo couldn’t think. He could only watch. When she was finished the handle of the whip stuck out like a lever waiting to be pulled. She went into the house. That snapped him out of it but good.
“What are you doing in there?”
“Just closing up shop.”
Oh, that didn’t sound good at all. He watched helplessly, as one by one the lights flicked off in his house.
“Get out of there!”
She did not. If anything she took her time. When she did come out it was with keys in hand. She locked the door and placed the key under the mat.
“Go? I can’t go!”
“Not up to you.”
She grabbed the handle of the whip and, using it as if the loop of a leash, dragged him away. Milo tried to fight her, he really did, but she was just too strong to resist. Also, if he were being honest, he wanted to see where this was going. It turned out it was going right into the heart of the neighborhood trick or treaters.
I blushed as they looked at us as we passed. There were so many whispers and comments that try as they might I could still hear.
Mommy, can I do that? No. Awe.
Isn’t that in bad taste? I mean a blond explorer dragging along a bound indigenous person of color?
Nice ass. Which one? Yes.
I just looked down at my feet as we walked.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t show shame. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Live your kink. Embrace it.”
“This is not my kink.”
“Your dick says you’re lying.”
She was right. His erection was plain to see in his loincloth.
“Keep your head up.”
He didn’t feel like he was in a position to argue but he didn’t want to see the people watching him. So, he did the only thing he could. Milo kept his eyes glued to his kidnapper’s ass. Kidnapper. It was a strange word to think in connection to himself. No one believes they could be kidnapped. Milo never did. He also never expected to be kidnapped by a woman with such a divine ass.
“You’re perfect for my little project,” she told them as they walked.
“Yes, you’re going to help me win the decoration contest this year for sure.”
“By being my new decoration of course.”
She said this as if it were obvious.
“Decoration?” he said quietly, more to himself than her.
They soon left the main drag and headed for the more upscale neighborhoods. These residents were not wealthy, not in the Robin Leach sort of way. They were more well off than most in the city with nice three- or four-story homes they could afford to lavishly decorate. And decorate them they did.
It took Milo a few homes to realize they were themed. Two homes across the street from each other were pirate ships at war with each other. They fired beachball ‘cannonballs’ at each other. One was an Egyptian tomb. Another was a fairytale castle. Then there was the old west saloon.
“You ain't seen nothing yet.”
Then they arrived at what Milo could only assume was her house. It was a three-story white plantation house decorated to look like a jungle expedition camp site. There was a kiddy pool with an inflatable alligator laying in it.
“Thank you, but this is not enough. I lose the neighborhood decorating contest every year. Not this year. Not now that I have you.”
It was then he saw the pulley system installed on the underside of the awning.
She dragged Milo onto the porch and hooked the carabiner at the end of the pulley onto her whip on his back.
She just ignored him. She grabbed the rope and began to yank. Slowly she raised him off the porch until he was dangling inches off the floor. Smiling, she slipped off his shoes before dragging the pool under him.
“Isn’t this a bit much?” he asked.
“We’ll see when the judges get here in a few hours.”
She spanked his ass. He yelped in pain.
“No shouting. It’s rude.”
She slipped her hands up under his loincloth. He jerked away.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
WHACK! He flinched again.
She put her hands back under, gripping the band of his underwear.
“Making you more authentic.”
“What part of this set-up is ‘authentic’?”
“To the story, not history.”
She slid his underwear off and tossed them into the living room.
“I need those,” Milo said, trying his best not to shout.
“Not tonight you don’t.”
He gulped. She walked behind him and lifted up the back of his costume. It was both humiliating and arousing. His face was beet red all the same.
“It looks cute all red like that.”
He flinched again as he felt her gently stroke it.
“Oh, calm down, baby.”
“You did just spank me. Twice.”
“That was your own fault.”
“Very self-assured, aren’t you?”
“Why shouldn’t I be? I mean, look at me.”
“I can’t, from this angle.”
“You have all night.”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“I have no use for pain. I much prefer pleasure. Just do what I say and you won’t need to be spanked again. Unless you’re into that.”
“Too bad. I’ll have to settle for this.”
She took both cheeks in her hands and gave it a good squeeze. He yelped and tried to jump. Of course, he failed. She kissed and nibbled his neck.
“Shh. Don’t fight me, baby.”
He moaned at her advances. He knew it was wrong, but it just felt so good. She gave his ear a little lick.
“I almost forgot. What shall I call my little Jungle Boy?”
“Milo,” she moaned, “very nice. You shall call me Mistress Camille.”
“I have kidnapped you after all. I am in total control of you. So that makes me your mistress.”
“Yes, Mistress Camille.”
“God, I love the sound of that.”
She forcefully turned him to face her and shoved her tongue deep into his mouth. Milo moaned at the sudden intrusion but did not fight back. No, he gave in and kissed back as much as she would allow. Her hand slipped back under his costume and found his dick. He moaned once more as she squeezed and played. Just as release felt like it was at hand she stopped. He whimpered.
“Later, the judges are on their way.”
Milo gave a defeated sigh. A group of men and women with clipboards arrived. Mistress Camille slipped into a clearly rehearsed little show.
“Tell me where your people are hiding it boy. Tell me how to find El Dorado.”
The show came to an end and the judges left. Slowly the street began to shut down for the night. Milo just watched as Mistress Camille unplugged anything and began shutting down her little display as well. She stepped inside without saying a word. Thirty minutes later she returned in only her nightie. She finished cleaning up and went inside, teasing him with her body as she did so. The door locked and the lights went out.
The hours dragged by. He must have fallen asleep at some point since the next thing he knew he was dropped into the pool. He sputtered and splashed.
“What the fuck?!”
He was pulled from the water and onto the porch.
“I’ve told you not to shout.”
“Then don’t dunk me.”
She dragged him inside, locking the door behind them. She unwound her whip and led him to the bathroom. Once he was allowed relief, she took him downstairs for breakfast. Once finished she dragged him off to bed.
“I can’t wait to get you between my legs, baby.”
All Milo could do was blush. She stopped in the kitchen on the way out. Reaching into a drawer she pulled out a turkey baster.
“What’s that for?”
“It’s November 1st. It’s time to decorate for Thanksgiving, Turkey.”