Trick or Treat
Skip enjoyed Halloween.
Not as much as he enjoyed, beer, football, golf, and the occasional clandestine trip to a local strip-club - but it was an opportunity to squire his little daughter around, and flirt with the neighbor's wives.
Skip's blonde good looks were untarnished by his low character, and adolescent instincts. He was the object of eye-rolling scorn among the woman in his neighborhood, who knew that Skip's pretty, bright, red-headed wife had decided to ignore Skip's clumsy attempted flirtations for the sake of their precocious little daughter.
Heather was a happy, chattering little bundle of 4 year old excitement in her Tinkerbell costume, tugging at her father's sleeve, anxious to start out, "before all the good candy's gone!"
Her mother called out, "Have a good time baby" as Heather ran down the front walk, followed by Skip, who looked back to waive to his wife, smiling as she set candy by their door.
The happy mother watched as the pair turned down the sidewalk, and then quickly covered herself with a cloak, and slipped out through their kitchen door, and through their backyard, to her own destination.
Skip and Heather toured the houses on their block - Heather was a happy favorite on every porch, while Skip winked and flirted with any likely looking housewife who answered a door.
Circling the block, they came at length to the home of one of Skip's most relentless, but as yet completely fruitless, extra-marital obsessions.
Heather reached up to ring the bell, merrily chirping "Trick-or-treat! Trick-or-treat!" as the door opened to reveal an attractive, costume-clad blonde woman; a back-yard neighbor never far from Skip's wandering mind.
Heather recognized the woman's costume, a high-collared cloak and horned hat, from one of her Disney movies, and squealed happily. Skip, however, took note of the flawless smooth bare skin on the calf that slipped out of the folds of the cloak. The slender foot, well-manicured dark red toenails, and alarmingly erotic high heels, brought Skip to an immediate state of throw-caution-to-the-winds arousal.
It was a matter of no difficulty, then, for the woman to suggest that Heather take her popcorn ball, and a cup of hot cocoa - it was a chill night - into the library, so that, as the woman said, "I can take your Daddy to the dung - that is, the basement, for his special treat."
Heather settled happily into a large bear rug, in front of an impressive fireplace, and pointed to one of the many paintings which lined the paneled walls among the bookshelves.
"Did he get into a fight with Indians?" the c h i l d asked, with wide-eyed wonder, "he's got arrows all stuck in him."
"Oh, no, dear," the woman laughed, "Why it's just a painting of a dream - a happy little Halloween dream."
Skip stumbled down the basement steps behind his hostess, and was somewhat startled to find himself in a large room full of bondage equipment.
Racks, crosses, benches, stools - displays of whips and crops - manacles - chains - lots of shinny little pointed sharp things in trays - Skip took it all in like a randy sailor sizing up whores in a cat house, while his slim companion smiled at him, watching Skip with an appraising, hungry gaze.
Skip's excitement reached a heart thumping crescendo as he realized he and his hostess were not alone - another costumed figure was leaning casually against a cushioned bench beside a small stool in the center of the room.
Skip could scarcely contain himself - she was wearing a Catwoman mask, a black corset, and nothing else. Her breasts were flushed, as her bare feet padded softly across the floor to take the cloak from Skip's hostess, now utterly naked save for her heels.
The women moved purposefully toward Skip, and it was a matter of only the briefest time before he found himself striped naked, standing on the stool, his arms outstretched and chained over his head to a beam.
Skip's cock, veined, thick and hard, bobbed merrily as he teetered on the stool in front of his two companions, who having tossed his clothes into a corner, paused to exchange a passionate kiss, pushing their breasts one against the other.
"May I start, Mistress?" Catwoman asked, moving toward the display of whips and crops.
'Oh, by all means," she responded, settling herself comfortably on the rich leather bench cushions.
"Whip him hard," she instructed. "Very hard."
Skip had anticipated something like a vigorous spanking - not the sinister whistle of the leather cat's narrow braided lashes, followed by the wicked smack, and searing pain as his back was whipped.
Skipped yelped and writhed, his curved hard cock wobbling, as he lost his footing on the small stool, and hung by his wrists.
"Oh, that's quite nice," Mistress sighed, laying herself along the nearby bench, one hand caressing a firm breast, a slender finger of the other languidly teasing the glistening folds of dark pink skin between her legs.
The whistle and crack of the lash went on for some time - Catwoman was flushed and arm-weary when Skip's screaming finally stopped, and his head fell forward in a faint. His back and buttocks were covered with puffed, blood-dotted welts, his chest, abdomen and thighs displayed a pleasant arrangement of angry gouges where the lash had curved around his body.
Mistress showed little patience for Skip's inattentiveness to her pleasure, and frowned at Catwoman. "That won't do, that will not do at all!"
"Wake him at once."
Tossing the lash carelessly on the floor, Catwoman moved toward one of the trays, and returned to Skip, still hanging in a faint. A resounding slap to his face brought him to some level of awareness, which was then heightened immensely when Catwoman pinched his right nipple between her thumb and finger, pulling it away from his chest so that she could slowly skewer it with a long, thin metal spike.
Skipped howled and twisted, now suddenly very alert, and rolled his eyes down as Catwoman slowly gripped his left nipple, deliberately pushing the sharp metal rod through his skin.
"Oh, God, Oh God, Oh God", Skip screamed, "Stop, oh stop, you crazy bitch!"
Catwoman sneered beneath her mask, and reached up to pull the costume from her head, shaking her dark red hair out as she tossed the mask toward the wall.
"No crazier now, than when I married your unfaithfull ass," Skip's wife hissed.
Mistress smiled indulgently as Skip's wife grabbed his limp dick and balls, snarling, "What, no hard-on for your loving wife?"
"You've dreamed about being together with the two of us for months, and now that you're here, you can't even get it up for us?"
Mistress chuckled warmly at the tender reunion, stretching her lithe naked body along the couch.
"Now dear," she chided, "we really don't need Skip to see to our pleasure. We can provide for ourselves, and use him in a different way at the same time."
Skip's wife smiled - not an altogether pleasant or comforting smile for Skip - and turned toward Mistress, asking, "What would please you, Mistress."
"Oh, let's just spend some quality time together while, Skip *hangs* out for a moment."
Skip's wife nodded, and selected a stout rope from among the various straps and thongs piled along the wall.
Signifigantly, a noose dangled from one end of the rope.
Skipped tossed his head about to no avail, as his wife stood behind him on the stool, a handful of his blonde hair in one fist, her firm breasts and hard nipples pushed into his back, forcing the knot of the noose down directly behind his neck.
Threading the rope through a nearby ratchet, she took up the slack until Skip hung spluttering by his neck, vainly trying to loosen the rope's grip on his throat by raising himself on his outstretched manacled arms.
Mistress had moved the leather bench in front of Skip, and his wife kneeled on it facing Skip, one soft hand sliding up and down the taught muscles of his chest, the other cupping his swaying balls.
Notwithstanding the rope gouging into his neck, Skip's cock began to respond in a gratifying way to his wife's firm hand.
Smiling at Skip's pleasant display, Mistress stretched herself back out on the bench, sliding her fair blond head between Skip's wife's thighs, so that she could look up past her downy red pubic hair, and hardening clit, to watch as Skip bulged and spluttered.
Skip's wife pumped away at his prick with one hand, while leaning back to masturbate Mistress with the other.
Mistress rewarded Skip's wife by running her hands up her thighs, parting the folds of her pussy, to expose the little treasure there to the swirling warmth of her tongue.
As the women planned, Skip was able to relieve the noose's grip on his neck with slowly diminishing effectiveness by drawing himself up on his widely spread arms.
The two women pleasured each other with care and patience, as it took a very long, long time for Skip to hang.
Eventually, Skip reached a point where he was unable to relieve the strangulation around his neck with his exhausted arms. His face was as purple as his cock, and he showered his executioners with a fine mist of saliva as he hissed and croaked, trying to expel the stale air from his lungs.
His wife pumped Skip's cock with vigor, while digging two fingers into Mistresses pussy as she began to thrust upward as her orgasm approached.
Skip's wife moaned and pushed down on Mistress's tongue, as Skip's pulsing cock showered the two shuddering women with his sticky cum, while his eyes fluttered and rolled, and his stiff tongue protruded from his dark lips.
Later, in the library, Skip's wife took her happy little daughter's hand in her own, and thanked her hostess for a truly pleasant evening as they made ready to leave.
"But mommy," Heather asked, "Isn't daddy coming?"
"Not any more, Baby."
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