Pranked on Halloween

by G. Lawrence

A college student finds himself at a party without clothes

As much as I like ENF and ENM stories, I haven't written a new one in months, so Literotica's Halloween contest gives me an excuse. This is a silly fantasy. The intent is to be a light-hearted romp, so let's not take anything too seriously. There is a little more sex in this episode than I usually prefer, but fans of this site seem to enjoy that, so I'm trying to get with the program. All characters are over 18 years old.

* * * * * *

It's fun to look back at more innocent times, especially those during our carefree school days. This was an incident that caught me by surprise, though it shouldn't have. Now that eight years have passed, and I have a good job with a successful company, it's easier to talk about.

My name is Russell Walker, twenty-one years old at the time. Josh and I had been dorm mates since our sophomore year at Midville Valley in northern Indiana, a small but elite college with more math and tech students than usual. Quite a few frisky art students, too. And plenty of jocks. Midville was fairly well-known for scandalous hijinks, so nothing that happened to me was all that unusual. That didn't make this particular situation any less embarrassing.

My roommate was a member of the rugby team, tall with broad shoulders, a square jaw, closely cropped sandy blond hair, and a winning grin. Girls loved him even though he was gay. I was considerably shorter and slenderly built, with gray eyes, curly brown hair, and a genial smile that also had the girls interested. I was not gay, but I was shy. During summer breaks, Josh went home to Connecticut, his family being fabulously rich. They had grand parties in their mansions, floated around Long Island Sound on their yachts, and engaged in debauchery. The way the upper crust will do. I worked on a cattle ranch in South Dakota, riding horses and rounding up herds for branding. Yes, I was a legitimate cowboy despite my small size, but there wasn't much money in it. Rowdy nights in the bunkhouse singing songs and drinking rye whisky made up for the lack of pay.

The first naked prank Josh pulled on me, in our junior year, was simple. As I came out of the shower, he said an important package had been left for me outside the door. We had a nice dorm room on the second floor, two bedrooms, a kitchenette, and a view of the quad where a statue of our college founder, French fur trader Marced DeLeon, watched over his school. Wearing only a towel, I looked out into the corridor, not seeing a package. Suddenly, Josh yanked the towel off me, gave me a push, and locked the door, leaving me butt-naked in the hall. I knocked on the door, desperately trying to get back in. There was no response.

Cathi Menger, our neighbor a few doors down, heard the noise and came out. Laughing. She was really pretty, with big blue eyes and a petite figure. I had almost asked her for a date once but chickened out. She raised her phone to take pictures. I begged her not to. Other heads were starting to poke out.

"I'll have mercy on you this time, Russ," she said in her pleasant Tennessee drawl, going back in her room to fetch me a towel. "But next time, I'm taking all the photos I want."

I foolishly hoped there wouldn't be a next time. Josh eventually let me back in. I said, "Very funny," and let the incident drop.

Encouraged by my lack of response, Josh waited for a Wednesday night when we had the school tennis courts to ourselves. Josh was a good player, but he couldn't cope with my left-handed serves, which left him frustrated. I didn't win every game, but I won most of them. And wasn't afraid to bask in my glory. After all, he was a big handsome jock and I was a runt. We went into the gym, now deserted, to take showers. He rushed through his. I generally took my time, enjoying the hot water. When I came out, Josh was gone. And so were my clothes.

It was a dilemma. All the towels were locked up, the trash containers emptied. No newspapers or cardboard to make a skirt. I looked out, hoping Josh was just teasing, only to find a note. See you back at the dorm, winner. Was I embarrassed? Of course, but I'd also had an on-going fascination with exhibitionism, which Josh knew about, having seen my saved stories on Literotica. I was kind of turned on but determined not to give him any satisfaction.

Creeping out of the gym, I began making my way across campus. Bare and barefoot. I could have torn up a bush to use as cover, but how pathetic would that be? As long as no one was taking photos, I'd be okay.

It was just before 10 o'clock. The student union had a movie theater, two restaurants, and a playhouse which stayed busy in the evenings. I skirted the campus center, staying close to the library and fine arts building, only to discover students suddenly pouring out of the doors. The night classes had just ended! Oh my god, I thought, I would either need to hide in the shadows for an hour on a cool night with no clothes, hoping no one would find me, or make a run for it. I took off.

There was a lot of laughing and jokes about the naked guy dashing past them. The only photos, taken too late as I ran by, only showed my butt. And it was a very nice butt, even if I do say so myself. Round and firm. I stayed in shape. When I reached the dorm, I didn't wait for Josh to open the door, doubting that he would. I'd hidden a key in the flower bed outside for emergencies and jumped inside just as Cathi and half a dozen dormmates were emerging with their phones. Someone had been texting them. Ten seconds earlier, they would have gotten full-frontal shots. I'd gotten lucky.

There were other incidents, but small stories aside, the big event took place during our senior year. On Halloween. I should have seen it coming, but quite frankly, I never credited Josh with so much imagination.

"The party is at Cheryl Wyman's. You know her," Josh said

"Yes, I've done minor repairs around her property," I confirmed. "Her house is really big, and really nice."

"Everyone is going to be in costume, and I want to win this year's contest," Josh announced. "The winner gets $150."

"What is $150 to you?" I asked. "You spend that on tips at the club."

"It's the principle of the thing," Josh answered. "And I need your help."

"Me?"

"I'm going as Ali Babba. I need you to be Alladin," he explained.

"Alladin? What am I supposed to do as Alladin?"

"Magic tricks."

"I don't know any magic tricks," I replied.

"Don't worry, Russ, I have all the tricks worked out," he assured me.

* * * * * *

The party began at six, picking up speed at eight for the contest, and finishing around ten. As we were getting ready, Josh delivered my costume.

"What is this?" I asked, holding a strange bundle in my hands.

"Genuine rag silk," Josh responded.

"Pajamas?"

"It's an Alladin outfit. The waif was poor. He didn't have fancy clothes," Josh explained.

It wasn't the worst costume of all time, but close. A long-sleeved red shirt open down the front below my navel, purple pantaloons so wide they were hard to walk in, gold slippers with curled toes, and a white turban. I stepped just inside my bedroom door and started to undress.

"No underwear," Josh called out.

"What?"

"Your underwear will show through the costume. No socks, either."

What the hell? I wondered. What is Josh up to? But I let the thought go, stripping naked to put on the silk hangings. Afterall, what could happen at a big party filled with people?

Quite frankly, the silk felt really sexy. I feared being embarrassed by a possible arousal as it rubbed against my most sensitive parts.

"You look terrific. How about me?" Josh asked as I emerged into our living room.

He did look great, like the perfect One Thousand- and One-Nights sheik. The costume probably cost $1,000.

"You look better than me," I grumbled.

"I'll drive. Leave your wallet, phone, and keys here," he instructed at the last minute.

"My wallet?" I asked.

"You don't have any pockets," he pointed out.

Questions began to occur to me. Josh wanted me to leave everything in the dorm room. I could have taken my phone and left it in the car, but I didn't think of that. Or was I curious about the game Josh was seeking to play? Maybe a dangerous game. Curiosity got the better of me. At least, that's what I told myself later.

We drove to Cheryl's meandering ranch house in a quiet suburb on the other side of campus. The five-mile drive only took a few minutes. To make a little money, I'd done odd jobs around her yard, fixing fences and landscaping. Cheryl wanted a large green lawn for volleyball with lush bushes lining the perimeter. There was a pool yard surrounded by a wire screen. A two-story garage had a basketball hoop above the driveway.

"Welcome," Cheryl greeted at the front door, taking a step back to give my absurd costume a closer inspection. The open shirt showed everything from my neck down. I had a little bit of chest hair but not enough to look like a beast. She was wearing a Good Witch of the North gown from the Wizard of Oz. Very fancy with flowing skirts and a gold crown.

At thirty-three, Cheryl was twelve years older than me, tall with long reddish-gold hair and crafty green eyes. Her ex-husband was a successful lawyer, and from what everyone said, she had outlawyered him in the divorce. We exchanged smiles, being well-acquainted, but there had never been any special attraction between us. She was a sophisticated lady; I was a skinny kid.

The large living room already had twenty guests in costumes. I saw Indiana Jones, Florence Nightingale, and Rafael the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Beyond them was a giant dining room with crystal chandeliers, seating for sixteen. But the chairs were pulled back, leaving the table open for a buffet. I recognized two friends, Beth Harper and Annie Jackson, sisters of the Theta Mu sorority. I had tutored them in math, having a talent for numbers. They were pretty, vivacious, and dressed as Downton Abby house servants, with slate gray dresses and long white aprons.

"Odd costumes," I remarked.

"Cheryl has us helping out tonight, but we're still guests," Beth explained, her blue eyes looking me over.

"Gosh, Russ. You're hardly one to make fun of anyone's costume," Annie added with a brown-eyed stare. "Are you even wearing underwear under that thing?"

I resisted an urge to cover up, knowing the fabric didn't show through that much. The pantaloons were big and baggy. Just walking in them was hard when the floppy leggings got caught under my slippered feet. She was just teasing. Or was she trying to bluff me into a confession?

"I am Alladin. I perform tricks with a magic lamp," I announced.

"We don't see a magic lamp," Beth said, my hands empty.

"Josh still has it," I answered.

"We'll see how much magic gets performed," Beth responded, reaching for my elastic waistband and snapping it against my stomach. I cried 'ouch' as they went back to work.

Josh and I took a quick tour of the house seeing ghosts, spiderwebs, and skeleton decorations before going to the bar, ordering Squirrel Nut craft beer. I had Josh on one side, an old gentleman dressed as Dumbledore on the other.

"Make it 24-ounces for my friend," Josh ordered from the bartender, indicating a huge, frosted mug.

"Twenty-four?" I asked.

"It's a party, buddy. I'll make sure you're taken care of," he promised. "Besides, you're not driving home, are you?"

That seemed true enough, though at the time, I didn't know how true. More guests arrived, getting the total between forty and fifty. It was an elegant affair, with rich outfits and prominent attendees, not just motley college students. One couple arrived as Gene Kelly in a late 1920s tuxedo and Cyd Charisse in a shear green flapper outfit dripping in pearls. Two more college acquaintances came outfitted as World War I fighter pilots. I wished I could have been a fighter pilot, too, with a leather jacket, heavy goggles, and a jaunty scarf.

Josh was sure to greet everyone with big smiles and handshakes. I tended to stay quiet, only speaking when someone asked me a question. I saw Gwen Stansbury dressed in a delectable Tinker Bell costume showing plenty of cleavage. Jack and Mike, two jocks from the gay fraternity, were in dom outfits, complete with leather boots, black chest straps, and chains. Mindy Roberts looked sexy as hell in a Red Sonja outfit, complete with long red hair and a genuine sword. Several of the guests were Cheryl's business associates and old college chums.

At the bar, I suddenly felt something cold splashing me.

"What the hell was that?" I shouted, jumping back.

"Sorry, I spilled my beer," Josh apologized. "Look, your shirt sleeve is soaked, and it's on the flap, too."

"I need to dry this," I complained, shaking the sleeve as people scattered.

"Don't do that. Come over here," Josh insisted, taking me into the glistening chef's kitchen. There were only two cooks, both elderly and not busy. No elaborate meals were being prepared, only party food. Beth and Annie looked in from the doorway, having heard the commotion.

"Take off the shirt," Josh instructed.

"I can't do that," I protested.

"It needs to be scrubbed before the stains set in," he insisted.

"Do you have another shirt for me?"

"You don't need a shirt. Everyone has been looking at your pecks for the last hour. And the wrong shirt would ruin the costume. I want to win the contest, remember?"

"Okay, but I get it back the moment it's dry," I reluctantly agreed, for I couldn't wear the wet thing as it was. The lady kitchen helper ran soap over the outfit and hung it on a chair near the oven, putting a bowl underneath to catch the drippings. When the shirt started to slide off, Josh took my turban to tie it to the chair. Now bare-chested, all I had left were the pantaloons and slippers. I noticed Beth and Annie giggling.

Following more meet and greets, and getting plenty of amused stares, Josh and I wandered out on the broad flagstone patio. There were oak trees, benches, and a smoldering firepit. A three-quarter moon hung in a blue sky, the temperature mild. Everyone else was still in the house making introductions.

"Need to pee?" Josh asked, knowing I'd had three of those giant beers. Far more than I was accustomed to.

"Really bad, but every time I check the bathrooms, they're filled with girls working on their makeup."

"Go here," Josh suggested.

"Here? On the patio?"

"No, not on the patio. Out there, in the bushes against the backwall."

He pointed across the broad green lawn, now growing dark with the sun having set. Trees lined the cinderblock wall adjoining the alley. It was about thirty yards away, the wide field freshly mowed. There were bushes down the left side along the pool yard fence.

"No one will see you," Josh urged, reading my thoughts.

"Okay. I really need to go," I agreed, going to a small wooden gate separating the patio from the lawn. Josh stopped me at the last second.

"Wait, those silk shoes aren't made for the damp grass," Josh warned. "You need to take them off."

It was true that the gold slippers appeared vulnerable to wet vegetation. I took them off.

"The pants, too," Josh added.

"The pants!" I gasped almost too loudly.

"You'll never be able to pee wearing those things. You'll piss all over the legs."

"I'd be naked."

"I'll hold them for you. Come on, it's a dare. You like dares," Josh chided. "I've seen your favorites on that erotic website."

It was true. I loved embarrassed nude female stories, and embarrassed nude male stories. The gender wasn't so important as the predicament the characters found themselves in. Naked and squirming, afraid of being discovered. Just thinking about it had me aching.

Josh saw me hesitating but said nothing. Waiting.

"Okay," I finally agreed, moving along the inside of the white picket fence where the scraggily hedges gave me cover from the house. Josh followed on the patio side.

Taking a deep breath, I peeled the bulky pantaloons down and stepped out, feeling relieved of the weight. Until I realized I was standing totally naked in someone's backyard. Josh reached through the bushes. I balled up the pantaloons and handed them over.

Without another word, I walked down the left side along the pool yard fence. The field was getting a little too much light from the shining moon. The darkened patio helped. All I saw was a red glow from the firepit.

I stopped near the trees at the back of the lot. Having no clothes, I did not need to worry about a zipper. The coolness felt good on my bare skin. I gazed up at the towering wall as I blissfully relieved myself. The wall was high for security purposes, with only one strong gate. Securely locked. The entire estate actually had good protection, a necessary precaution for wealthy people in troubled times.

As I gratefully finished, I glanced back toward the house. Several couples had emerged on the patio, smoking cigarettes. I noticed a stout man dressed as Cyrano de Bergerac, with a black cloak and sword. How he lit his cigarette without burning his nose was a mystery. And I saw science major Marla Hemmings as Supergirl. 5'8, slim with long legs, she looked fabulous in a short red skirt, tall red boots, and a cape, wearing a wig of gorgeous blonde hair.

I rushed along the poolside hedges, reached the white picket fence, and crept up opposite where Josh was standing at the edge of the patio.

"Josh, I'm here," I whispered.

"A successful mission?"

"Yes. I need my pants back," I said, hunkered down in my naked state.

"What do you mean?" he questioned.

"I need my pants."

"Russ, I offered to hold your pants for you," Josh answered. "I never promised to give them back."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It means you're not getting your pants back," he casually answered. "They aren't even your clothes. I was the one who bought them. They are my clothes."

It hit me right away. His plot. The craftiness. I felt anger, and betrayal. He had set me up to be humiliated. And I was incredibly turned on. I ducked low so he wouldn't see my irresistible arousal.

"What do you want?" I whimpered. I didn't really feel like whimpering but wanted to feed his ego.

"I want to win the costume contest, and I will, if you promise to do what I say."

As much as that was hard to understand, I evaluated my options. Getting over the fence into the alley would be hard, and then what? Run around a wealthy suburban neighborhood naked while trying to get back to the dorm? Five miles away? On a Halloween party night with the whole city on the streets?

Cheryl's driveway lit up as four guys in X-Men costumes came out to shoot basketballs in the hoop mounted on the garage. Ice Man, Nightcrawler, Wolverine, and Cyclops. I guessed the driveway gate was probably locked, too. It had been when I worked for her. Getting into the pool yard was pointless, there would be no way to get out. There was only one escape route, right through the middle of the house past fifty people. I had to give Josh credit; this was so much cleverer than I could have imagined.

"I--"

The patio lights came on brightly. More guests emerged from the house. Someone threw a flammable object into the firepit, causing it to flare into bright yellow flames. I heard music and bantering. Some were speculating about the costume contest.

"Oh, did I mention that I asked Cheryl to turn on the patio lights?" Josh asked with a smirk.

What could I do? I was totally naked, hiding in the backyard as the party was getting rowdy.

"Okay, you've got me," I admitted, scrunched down in the grass as far as I could. I was tempted to rub myself, but that would only make everything worse.

"Do you promise to help me win the contest? On my terms?" he questioned.

"Yes, I promise. Now give me my pants back."

"Russ, you are not getting your pants back. Not tonight. That was never going to happen. Now wait here and I'll be back in a few minutes."

I looked up to see him walking toward the house. As he passed the firepit, he threw my pants and slippers into the flames. I had no doubt the shirt would be next.

I knelt there in what little darkness remained, for anyone looking closely through the hedge would see me. It was so embarrassing. Tricked out of my clothes by my mischievous roommate at a Halloween party attended by fifty guests. Many of them prominent business people. And fellow students. Beth and Annie. Mindy and Marla. The gay fraternity guys. They would likely take pictures. I would be laughed at for the rest of my senior year. Mocked. Ridiculed. I started to get hard again, which caused my heart to pound. It was one thing to be the only one naked at a costume party, but having an erection in front of all those people would be a humiliating disaster.

Josh returned, and I didn't like what I saw. He was wearing a 17th century pirate outfit. A brown cotton shirt and pants, leather vest with brass buttons, leather boots, and a cutlass on his belt. He was carrying chains. Not modern chains like seen in a bondage parlor, but old-fashioned iron shackles.

"I am not letting you put those on me," I objected, scooting backward.

"Russ, it's time to be realistic," Josh replied. "I am a buccaneer on the Spanish Main, and you are the son of a duke who I have captured. I'm holding you for ransom so your father will pay up. And look at the alternative. You were gullible enough to have your costume stolen at a big party. A total ENM geek. If you make a run for it, they might not even let you out of the house. And what would you do out on the street? Hitchhike back to the dorms? Naked? As my prisoner, you'll be an accessory to my costume. We can claim you are brave and daring, doing a favor for a friend. People might laugh at you, but they won't call you a fool."

He had a point. Or did he? What the hell was I thinking? And what choice did I have?

"Come on, Russ, you know you want this," Josh whispered. "It's your exhibitionist dream. Naked at a party, and it's not your fault. Everyone will blame me."

It sort of made sense, so I didn't need to think about it very long, turning around on my knees and putting my hands behind my back. I felt the manacles lock on my wrists. They were tight but not painful, having some sort of padded lining. Josh was so considerate. He added cuffs to each ankle with 8" of chain between. Enough to walk but not run. He added a leather collar with a black leash, getting me on my feet. I hunched a bit, knees pressed together. I could not remember ever feeling so vulnerable.

"I have a ball gag if you start to panic," he generously offered.

"Not yet. Do I have a safe word?"

"If it gets too much for you, say, 'I have no balls' and I'll remove the cuffs. But you're still not getting your clothes back. I burned them."

He led me to the low picket gate by the leash. He didn't need to pull hard, I was following easily enough, having no choice.

"Ready?" he said, taking a last-minute pause, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"You can still change your mind," I mumbled.

"No, I've been planning this for weeks. There's no turning back. But don't worry, little buddy, you're going to get something out of this, too."

"Like what?"

"Just help me win the contest and you'll see," he replied.

* * * * * *

We entered the patio, a dozen costumed spectators staring at me in astonishment. It was kind of thrilling, but I kept the face of a defeated slave and tried not to let anyone see the growing reaction in my groin. I considered asking Josh to come up with a solution for that, but realized he'd just as likely take advantage. I made no statements as more guests came to see the chained prisoner. Cheryl had made everyone check their phones at the door, but that wouldn't stop anyone from retrieving them and taking pictures.

By the time we reached the fire pit, we had twenty spectators. Turning back and forth while hunched over did me no good, for it just exposed me to a different group of voyeurs each time. Annie and Beth charged out of the house filled with excited energy.

"What the hell, Russ?" Annie said, standing before me. I shrunk back as she basked in my humiliation.

"I am part of Josh's costume," I defended.

"You're fucking naked! Totally fucking naked!" Annie shouted, as if anyone at the party didn't already know. "Are those real chains? Are you really chained?"

She went behind me and grabbed my ass, making me jump. The chains stretched but kept me trapped. She gave a hard slap on a butt cheek, loud enough to be heard by everyone. Our audience laughed. Beth took the leash and led me through the sliding glass door into the house, stopping at the long banquet table where food was laid out on a black and orange cloth decorated with spider webs. I saw chicken wings. Potato salad. Macaroni. All kinds of cheeses. Ten bottles of fine wine.

"What are you going to do with your prisoner?" Beth asked as the room grew crowded.

"Sell him," Josh answer, getting a round of guffaws.

"An auction?" one of the gay fraternity guys asked, giving me the eye.

"Yes, an auction," Josh confirmed. I nudged him with my shoulder. He leaned over.

"Listen carefully, friend," I whispered with a furrowed brow. "If you sell me to a gay guy, your life is over."

"We'll need to see about that," he smugly answered. "Unless you want to use your safe word?"

He had me. There was no way I was saying 'I have no balls,' in front of this crowd. That was never going to happen.

I paused to consider my situation. I was completely naked at a large Halloween party, chained hand and foot, and I'd promised to help Josh win his damn contest. A promise I took seriously regardless of how it had been coerced. The bigger problem was that I was getting very stimulated, my arousal hidden as I pressed against the table. If I was drawn back into the middle of the room, the stiffening would be obvious to everyone. The most mortifying experience I could imagine. It was causing me to scrunch over in distress.

"Josh, may I examine your slave?" our hostess suddenly asked, pushing forward.

"Of course, Cher," Josh agreed, for it was her house. What else could he say? Cheryl squeezed close to me. So close that my excitement was hidden in the folds of her dress. She took hold of the leash and dragged me into a rear hall. Then down to a bedroom on the left. She pushed me back on the king-size bed and closed the door.

"You have a problem, don't you?" she grinned, leaning over, her devilish green eyes taking in everything as I lay helplessly before her.

"I don't know what you mean," I answered, the excitement having subsided enough to claim innocence.

"Do you really want to walk around out there with an erection? Half my guests have recovered their cameras."

She knew. There was no hiding it.

"I don't know what to do. I can't help it," I replied, genuinely whimpering.

"I will help you, but I get a favor in return. A big favor."

"What? What favor?"

"We'll talk about that another day, but I know you'll keep your word if you say yes."

It wasn't like I had a lot of options. Whatever Cheryl wanted couldn't possibly be as bad as the alternative.

"Yes, you can have what you want if you help me now," I begged. It was the perfect answer. Her eyes lit up with a greedy glee.

"Lay back," she ordered.

When I moved to the center of the bed, she uncuffed the chain between my ankles and used her own chains to cuff my legs wide apart to her bedposts. I was totally under her control.

"Do you have a safe word?" she asked, sitting next to me while beginning to stroke my thighs. She spread a yellow cream on her hands and started to work my dick, which needed little help. Though only six inches, it had a nice thickness. Before long she had me panting.

"Safe word?" she asked again.

"No," I lied, finding it hard to breathe, for it was too embarrassing to confess.

Cheryl really knew what she was doing. Maybe because she was older, or more experienced, or just talented. I was writhing under her touch, silently begging for release. I couldn't remember ever being so hard.

"Do you like this?" she whispered, relishing in her complete dominance.

God did I like it, but I couldn't speak. My body was twisting against the restraints. Powerless. Straining. When I finally exploded, the spray gushed across my chest and splashed my cheek. She stood up with studious satisfaction.

"Russ, you are a hell of a lot of fun," she sighed, going into the bathroom. She came back with a wet towel, wiping away the traces of my shame.

"Are you going to let me go now?" I questioned.

"Let you go? Oh, no. Dear lord, no," she replied with a smug grin. "You came great. That was impressive. But you're a young man, and I can tell, a very vigorous one. Coming once won't save you from embarrassment."

She went to the door and waved to someone in the hall. A moment later, Beth and Annie entered still wearing their maids' outfits. They saw me chained to the bed and snickered.

"Ladies, our good friend Russ must not be allowed to embarrass himself with an unwanted erection during the party," Cheryl instructed. "He has come once. Make sure he can't come again."

And with that, Cheryl left the bedroom and closed the door. Beth and Annie climbed on the bed, their hands all over me. My legs, chest, shoulders and thighs. Rubbing my crotch. No part of me was sacred.

"How many times can we make him come?" Annie speculated.

"Two or three, at least. But we don't have much time," Beth explained. "We'll need to make him come every five minutes."

"Me, first," Annie declared, bending over to wrap her luscious lips around my throbbing cock. With my legs chained to the bedposts and hands cuffed underneath me, I could barely move.

Truthfully, I had not been with many women. Almost none. And they hadn't been so particularly bold. I asked Beth to put Cheryl's gag in my mouth, unable to bear their eager attention, for I feared my moans would be heard all over the house. My entire body was struggling against the chains that would not give.

I came, not so hard as the first time, and then the girls went back to work. Perhaps in more relaxed circumstances, it would have been easier to come a third time, but I was feeling such intense excitement every muscle was bursting with tension. When the third finally came, I dropped back in exhaustion.

"Number four?" Beth asked.

"Oh, god, please no," I muttered, spitting out the gag. "I promise. I'll never come again."

"We'll see about that," Annie said, unchaining my ankles. The original chain was not added, leaving my legs free to walk. And badly needed. I was having trouble standing.

"Russ, just so you know," Annie said, suddenly serious. "We think you're awesomely brave to be doing this. We never imagined you could be so daring. It's really sexy."

"We've been texting our Delta sisters," Beth mentioned. "You aren't going to have trouble finding dates."

The Deltas were a very classy sorority. Being seen with them at events toward the end of my senior year wouldn't hurt my job prospects. Hey, wait! What the fuck? I'm naked at a party under the total power of several beautiful women and I'm thinking about job interviews? The ideas that will go through a guy's head!

Once again on my feet and leashed, Beth and Annie led me back into the living room, getting a round of applause. Everyone assumed I had just fucked them and I said nothing to change anyone's mind. A finely dressed middle-aged man in a Zorro outfit came up to me. He had a black suit, long cape, and sombrero. He removed the mask.

"Young man, you're certainly pushing the envelope," he said with raised eyebrows.

"My friend wants to win the contest," I tried to explain, standing before him naked and chained.

"Youngster, my name is Jeremy Longstrand. Of Happenstance Media," he introduced, reaching to shake hands before catching himself. An elegant woman came up, taking his arm. "This is my wife, Amanda."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," I acknowledged. "Though this is a little awkward."

"Do you go to parties like this often?" Amanda asked, giving me a thorough inspection.

"No, this is kind of new," I sheepishly responded.

"You're a senior? Graduating in June?" Mr. Longstrand inquired.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"Your major?"

"Digital media."

He reached in his vest pocket to take out a business card, then realized I had no free hands to take it. Or a pocket.

"I'll leave my card with Cheryl," he said. "Happenstance is always looking for new talent. Young men and women willing to put it all out there for a cause. Let's arrange an interview."

"Yes, sir. I would like that," I agreed, having no idea at the time where that would go.

Not everyone was pleased with my costume. Matt Turgen, a graduating science major, came up with a swagger holding a mug of Cat's Swipe Ale as I stood near the bar. Though generally a good-looking guy, he was wearing a rather boring Doctor Who costume. His flirting had been falling flat. I guessed he'd been drinking more than I had.

"Think you're pretty cute, don't you?" he jealously scoffed.

"Cute isn't how I'd describe it," I replied, unable to hide anything.

"No girl is going to sleep with a pathetic loser like you. Are you trying for one of the gay guys?" he sneered, standing close.

"Men aren't my first choice, but I try to be opened minded," I flippantly answered.

"Laugh this off, you naked jerk," Turgen spat, dumping the ale on me. I ducked a bit of it, but plenty ran down my neck and chest through my groin. I jumped back, unable to wipe the ale off with my hands bound behind me. Turgen shook the last few drops on my head.

"What do you say now, wise ass?" he demanded.

I was tempted to yell at the drunken fuck, though unable to defend myself, it wasn't a good time to start a fight. I didn't need to.

"Hey, Matt, got a moment?" Josh said, turning him around. And then a right cross decked the son of a bitch.

Turgen flew back against the bar, just barely missing me, and landed on his ass. He looked stunned.

"Got a present for you, Matty," Annie offered, standing over him. She poured her glass of beer on him, took one from Beth, and poured that one, too. It became popular. Eight or nine more guests joined in, and as Turgen tried to get up, Josh kicked him in the balls.

"Drag this trash out," Josh said to Jack and Mike.

The two burly fraternity brothers hauled Turgen through the front door, across the lawn, and hurled him into the quiet street.

"Don't let us see you again," Mike warned. "Not anywhere. Unless you want to be entertainment at our frat house."

Cheryl rushed over, drew my dripping body into the kitchen, and found towels. Beth and Annie helped, looking concerned. A crowd gathered just outside, watching. Josh was there a moment later.

"Buddy, I'm really sorry about this. Really sorry," he apologized. "Let's call this off."

He had an old-fashioned key ready to remove the manacles. I looked at the curious mob. The incident had made them angry. And sympathetic. Several very attractive young women seemed ready to provide comfort in my moment of need.

"Let's not let one idiot ruin the evening," I replied. Needless to say, many were shocked. Especially Josh. And then there were smiles.

"We'll do this without the handcuffs," Josh compromised, taking them off. I rubbed my wrists but made no effort to cover myself. I was getting to like the attention, though I didn't want to be obvious. I did squirm a bit and touch my leather collar, hoping to look uncomfortable.

"Time for the contest," Cheryl announced, giving me an insightful glance.

The area in the den before the giant TV screen was used for judging. The couches and chairs were quickly filled. Some sat on the floor before the make-shift stage while others stood along the back wall. Six of the fifty guests had formally entered the contest, their costumes costing more than I made in a month creating graphic designs for the town newspaper.

As everyone finally settled in, Wanda Hemmings strode on the small stage wearing white silks and a veil. I realized she was the Dutch courtesan and nightclub dancer known as Mata Hari, executed by the French during World War I as a spy. She had a gold cap with feathers, a thick draping necklace, and armbands. As soft music played in the background, she swayed back and forth, gradually losing one piece of silk after another, tossing them into the crowd with a flourish. We all leaned forward when her luscious breasts were exposed. Finally, only a slender wrap was left, delicately hanging around her hips. We could see the shadow of her unshaved bush below the fabric. She motioned as if to remove it. Paused. Motioned again. The room was silent. Expectant. I felt myself getting aroused again.

And then the music ended. She laughed, tightened the wrap so it wouldn't fall off, and left the stage with a wave. Her fans cheered.

Darrel Jeppers appeared as a zombie. Not especially original, but the gross outfit was superb. Clearly the work of an expert. He hung from side to side, snorting and pawing. He may have been a rotting zombie, but he kept a positive outlook. There was imminent death in his eyes with a gentle smile. The makeup must have taken three hours to apply.

Lester Jasper was a body builder and wrestler, one of the best in the state. And a giant, with a massive chest, Popeye arms, and legs like tree trunks. On this night he was wearing a blond wig, tight trunks, an upper body harness, and heavy boots, carrying a power sword and round shield. He was He-Man, right out of the cartoon shows. He looked every inch the part. Sadly, other than standing there looking magnificent, he didn't have anything to do. He really needed She-Ra to balance the presentation, but no She-Ra was available. He stepped down to light applause.

Gwen Stansbury danced across the stage in her green Tinker Bell costume, the shimmering material barely covering her assets. And at some angles, not covering them at all. She was well-endowed, but not so busty as to look awkward. Her smile lit the room, her red wings fluttering and tiny ballet shoes kicking. There seemed to be a nearly imperceptible halo surrounding her, though how that was managed I couldn't guess. She was so sexy that I wanted to rip the wings off her and fuck her right there on the stage. Annie saw my reaction and gave me a jab in the balls.

"Settle down, boy," she impishly whispered.

Lin Phillips, a fellow student from my computer lab, appeared as Albert Einstein with a stringy gray wig and long white coat. Makeup gave him a big nose. Crazy eyes made him look like a mad scientist from an old movie. Everyone wondered what the hell he was trying to do. And then he began explaining E = mc2. In German. It was almost bizarre enough to win the contest, but not quite.

When it was his turn, Josh took me up, making sure everyone could see everything, and told a wild story about his pirate ship capturing my father's convoy after a great sea battle. He made lewd comments about how his prisoner was shared by his lusty crew during the voyage over, bound and begging for mercy. The audience laughed even if the stories sounded lame. I hung back, being an embarrassed prop. It wasn't my job to put on a show.

Josh did not get his wish. Gwen won first place for her Tinker Bell costume. Zombie Darrel got second place. Josh took third, probably because his leather jacket was really cool and he had the dashing charisma of a pirate rebel.

"Everyone, get fresh drinks, and then the auction!" Josh declared in high spirits, having won $75.

"Come on, hasn't this gone on far enough?" I asked as he drew me to a corner. He had a glass of bourbon on ice with a straw, letting me take sips.

"Hell, Russ, all you've done is walk around looking like a victim. Every girl feels sorry for you. Even some of the guys. I'm doing all the work," Josh insisted.

"You're the one wearing all the clothes," I chastised.

"Yes, but I suspect you're the one having the most fun."

It was true, so I said nothing.

As Josh was preparing for the auction, Annie and Beth tracked me down. A husky woman in early middle-age accompanied them dressed like female Leonardo DaVinci.

"Russ, this is Dr. Darlene Harrison," Annie introduced. "She has a job for you."

"A job?" I asked.

"Darlene heads the Artists in Residence program at Bellows Art Academy. Down on 4th Street and Madison," Beth explained. "We volunteered you for her classes. You won't let us down, will you?"

"Let you down doing what?" I questioned, uneasy with their suppressed grins.

"Nude model," Annie answered.

I stepped back, caught off-guard. Dr. Harrison smiled and held up her phone, taking several photos.

"You're right, girls. He has classic lines," she said. "Have you done any modeling, Russ?"

"No, ma'am," I replied. "And I'm not looking to pose naked in public now."

"It pays $300 per session. For 90 minutes," Dr. Harrison tempted.

"How much did you say?" I sputtered.

"$300," she confirmed. "Twice a week until the end of the semester."

"What time are the classes?" I requested without needing to think about it. $300 was more than I made in a week at the newspaper. The art teacher and I shook hands on the deal before she went to speak with Cheryl.

"You won't need to be afraid of posing," Beth assured me. "There are only fifteen or twenty students per class. Mostly women. Annie and I will be there every night to support you."

"And we can bring our girlfriends," Annie added with a wink.

It was time for the auction. A crowd gathered in the living room. Josh had me stand on the fireplace hearth for better visibility.

"Har! I am selling my slave that my crew may return to the Spanish Main for more prizes," Josh said in a hearty pirate voice. "His ransom will go to charity. But he is not to be sexually exploited. At least, not in a public place."

Many laughed.

"We, of the Delta House, bid $500 for this prisoner," Beth loudly declared. "And if anyone bids against us, don't expect to get laid again this semester."

Many guys shuffled. They knew the Deltas were capable of peer pressure beyond their own orbit.

$600!" Mike bid, feeling the Deltas had no influence over their gay community.

"Mike, what the hell? Are you fucking nuts?" Jack warned, glancing around.

"We don't need sorority girls to get laid," Mike said.

"If we screw with the Deltas, we'll be poison. At parties. Fundraisers. Banquets," Jack explained. "We'll become pariahs. You won't get laid again until you're forty."

Mike looked around the room at the frowning women, seeing it was true.

"I withdraw my bid," he conceded.

"The Deltas have the highest bid," Josh declared. "Going once. Going twice. Sold to the Delta sorority sisters."

Wow, I thought. Sold to a bunch of frisky college women with few boundaries. This could be good.

The party began to break up as I was surrounded by eager mistresses. They asked my permission before pawing me. And then they pawed me very thoroughly. Annie whispered, "You'll need another treatment soon."

She was right. I'd been getting hard for the last half hour despite every effort to stay calm.

The departing guests moved out to the front lawn. Josh approached with a handsome young man on his arm. Mr. George Dyson, a junior accounting executive with London Insurance. A company he hoped to get a job interview with.

"Buddy, you did great," he said, slapping me on the shoulder. And then he slid sideways to slap me on the ass. I yelped and jumped away.

"I just want everyone to know," he said loud enough for many to hear, "that if you weren't my friend, and my roommate, and not gay, I'd have fucked you about twenty times tonight. You are so damn hot it's sinful."

"Thanks, Josh. It's nice to be wanted," I answered, getting a good laugh.

He began to walk away. I raised a hand.

"Are we going home now? I need clothes," I said.

"Not we. I have a date," Josh replied with an annoying grin. "And I already told you, you're not getting any clothes tonight. Not from me. And hopefully not from anyone else."

I looked around at the grinning faces filled with conspiracy. I would have been really mad if it hadn't been the best night of my life.

"What am I going to do? I can't walk back to campus like this," I complained.

"Ask the girls, they bought you," Josh responded, disappearing into the darkness.

"Need a ride?" Beth said, taking hold of my arm.

I began to remember Josh saying the evening would have something in it for me, and I finally understood what he meant. I'd been offered an interview with a terrific company. Posing nude at the art academy would triple my income. And I had sexy girls crawling all over me. My roommate was truly devious.

"I don't know, Beth. The way Josh betrayed me, how can I ever trust anyone ever again?" I lamented, trying to form tears. Watching from the porch, Cheryl rolled her eyes, realizing how insincere I was, though my acting was good enough to pass muster with the girls.

"You can trust us," Mindy assured me, standing close.

"We're your friends. Your best friends," Sandra confirmed, rubbing her hands down my sides. And then sliding a bit lower.

"Will you help me get home?" I humbly asked.

"We'll get you back to the dorm," Annie responded. "But first, we need to stop at the Delta House. Our sisters haven't seen your Halloween costume yet."

Annie reattached the leash to my collar, giving it a playful tug as all four women grinned. Apparently we were going to walk all the way back to campus. I was going to need another treatment soon.

* * * * * *

Epilogue:

My exhibitionist adventures did not end after that Halloween night, though I always sought to appear modest, as if I was the victim of these embarrassing exposures. In the months that followed, the Delta sisters proved very dear friends, though they had an uncomfortable habit of stripping me in public situations, claiming I was still their property. It was never my intention to be the celebrity centerpiece of their fundraising carwashes. There were also personal and professional opportunities, including one where I met my future wife, a voyeur and collaborator. Cheryl Wyman called in her big favor that June just after graduation, but that's another story.