Halloween was always a big event on campus. The students competed with each other to come up with the most outrageous costumes and make-up, and the winners were selected at midnight during the rock 'n' roll costume ball in the Student Union basement.
Carol had told me she'd never even attended one of these, never mind dressed up for one, so I was astonished when she told me she wanted to go...and in costume. I said sure, and asked her what she was going to wear—and she just smiled impishly and said, "You'll see."
On the night of the ball, I arrived at her door in my standard fallback Halloween costume: an old tuxedo augmented with a cape and a few strategically placed spider webs, my hair gelled straight back, my face a deathly white, and eyelids darkened, and a pair of plastic fangs in my mouth. But when she opened the door, my fangs almost fell out as my jaw dropped.
She was wearing the skimpiest slave-girl outfit imaginable, her breasts and loins barely covered with a clingy red fabric that made it quite apparent she was wearing nothing beneath it. Her upper torso and legs were "covered" with a gauzy fabric that might as well not have been there, and she was wearing red felt slippers with curly toes, a small red fez with a gold tassel, and was grinning at me from behind a veil of the same gauze which covered her from nose to chin. Her arms glinted with multiple bracelets. Her eyes were exotically made up, and as I entered the room and saw her in better light, I noticed she'd painted a red dot in the center of her forehead, and there was something strange about her upper lip, but I couldn't make it out beneath the veil.
Carol was giggling with delight at the effect of her costume. She stood in the middle of the room and twirled around for me. "How do you like it?" she asked, her smile suddenly a little shy, "Is it too much?"
"Is it too little, you mean," I said, taking her in my arms. I bared my fangs in a vampiric leer, saying, "Eet makes me vant to bite your neck!"
Carol pretended to swoon backwards in my arms and threw her veil back, exposing her neck to me. I leaned down and licked it instead, a long swoop up to her earlobe, which tickled her so much that she jumped back to her feet as she laughed and tried to wiggle away.
Before her veil fell back into place I was able to see her face—more particularly, her upper lip. On it, in tiny letters, the same shade of red as the dot on her forehead, were the letters, "R. F. M. C." The writing was a little wobbly—she must have done it using a mirror.
I looked at her curiously. "R.F.M.C.?"
She just smiled mysteriously and said, "I'll tell you later. Are we ready to go?"
I nodded and said, "Don't you want your coat? It's a little brisk out there."
"Nope. I'll be all right. Now close your eyes and hold out your hand."
I did as she asked. I heard some faint jingling noises, and a moment later felt something metallic being placed in my hand. I opened my eyes and looked down to see in my hand the end of a thin, gold-colored chain. Raising my eyes, I discovered that the chain led to Carol—more specifically, to a golden metal band around her neck. Her eyes above her veil were radiant.
I whistled in surprise and said, "Well, I guess there won't be much doubt about who you belong to."
She smiled and said softly, "That was the idea." She sank to her knees in front of me and looking up into my eyes, asked, "Is there anything your humble slave can do for her Master before we go? Would Master grant this slave the honor of sucking His cock? Would Master like to fuck me?"
"Master would like all of those things—but later," I said, drawing her to her feet and opening the door. "Right now Master wants to show off his most prized possession."
I ushered her out into the hall and started to walk next to her, but she immediately fell into place as far behind me as the chain would allow and walked with her eyes cast demurely down. We passed several people, some in costume and some not, on our way out and we drew some curious glances—and I'm sure some envious ones as well.
Fortunately, the Student Union building wasn't far down the road as there was a chill wind blowing. I was afraid Carol was going to catch cold or worse so I had her wrap her arms around my waist and walk behind me under my cape—she didn't seem to mind.
The basement was packed with exotic creatures of all kinds, from aliens, hookers, cartoon characters and famous monsters to the usual dorks who thought that dressing up as a condom or a turd was an original and hilarious idea. The music was ferociously loud and the body-heat index was already beginning to climb. In this environment Carol definitely had the advantage over me; in my heavy tux and cape my make-up was already beginning to run with perspiration but Carol was perfectly comfortable, and had me lead her by her chain out onto the dance floor.
Carol was a transformed woman that night. She danced with complete abandon—or as complete as the chain between us would allow—occasionally grabbing me around the waist and rubbing her body lasciviously against me as we moved around the dance floor. Was this the same Carol who didn't want anyone to know about us? In no time her costume was soaked with sweat and nearly transparent, her nipples and even the lips of her vagina plainly visible through the thin fabric—and if she noticed she just didn't care.
In fact, it seemed to turn her on, as I realized when I saw that her nipples were upright beneath their cover. Of course, that observation became redundant when, eyes blazing, she took my hand, led me off the dance-floor to a spot behind a pillar in a darkened corner of the room and without a word tore off her veil and threw herself against me. I barely had time to remove my fangs before her tongue was darting into my mouth and her hand was groping for my zipper.
I dropped her chain in my shock. It was dark there, but not completely dark and there were people wandering around who could possibly see us. But she was possessed, whimpering with desire against my mouth as she blindly struggled to free my cock and then began stroking and pumping it with an enthusiasm which made it an almost painful experience for me.
Fortunately, it wasn't long before Carol found herself unable to resist any longer and dropped to her knees. Even over the pounding music, I could hear her moaning and gasping as she licked and kissed and sucked me with a fervor unlike anything I'd ever experienced from her.
When I was about to come, I leaned down and, yelling as quietly as I could over the music, told her, "Don't swallow it!"
She looked up, her expression puzzled, but nodded briefly, then reached into my zipper and began to stroke and squeeze my balls so that I came almost immediately, slapping my hands against the pillar as I spurted heavily into her waiting mouth.
Afterwards, I used my handkerchief to wipe off the white make-up that had transferred itself from my face to hers, but as punishment for not having asked permission to suck my cock, I took her back onto the dance floor and made her dance with me for another twenty minutes with my come in her mouth. I made her lift her veil and open her mouth for me periodically so I could see that it was still there.
At the end of a song, I led her by her chain over to the tables where drinks were being sold. Her forehead was glistening with perspiration and she must have been dying of thirst, she was so obviously relieved to see where we were going.
There were three long, adjoining tables covered with the industrial-strength tablecloths the Dining Hall used for events like this, and they were all four-deep in costumed students waiting to buy beer, soda or bottled water. But the far ends were deserted, and I led Carol around to one of them.
In the dim, shifting light, I was sure nobody noticed when I ducked under the table and pulled Carol down after me. She crawled in on all fours, smiling at me a little uncertainly. She'd been under tables many times at my direction but this was the first time I'd joined her under one.
We weren't really hidden; the tablecloth only came about halfway to the floor, and we could see a crowd of feet not all that far away from us. But between the dim, shifting lights and the fact that no one was likely to look under the table, at least where we were, we were fairly isolated.
We were both perspiring heavily. I took out my fangs and put them in my pocket. I told Carol to stay put and crawled along beneath the table until I got to where the drinks were being served and surreptitiously snagged a couple of Cokes from a cooler. When I got back and handed Carol a can, she nodded and smiled, then pointed to her mouth and raised her eyebrows questioningly.
I'd forgotten she still had her mouth full of my come—largely diluted by then, as I saw when I nodded permission for her to swallow and she tore off her veil and opened her mouth to show me one last time how obedient she'd been before gulping it down.
She immediately followed this by popping the top on her Coke, guzzling at least half of it in one go, and then spending the next couple of minutes stifling burps and giggling.
When we were both finished we looked at each other, smiled and lay down together on our sides. We began to kiss and fondle each other, slowly and sensually. I was simply enjoying it, thinking—to the extent that I was thinking at all—that maybe when we were both fully aroused again we would go back to her room, where she could play my slave to her heart's content. So when, at the conclusion of a long and soulful kiss she drew back, looked at me with hooded eyes and said, "Master, may your slave make a request?" I assumed that's what she had in mind.