Halloween on Knotty Biscotti

The Pumpkin Lord's Price

Fri, 31 Oct 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Rhiannon weaved through the chaos: mummies, ghosts, an axe-murderer, three sexy nurses, and two witches in addition to herself. She tried to focus on Heather, her forever bestie, but bumped into an inflatable dinosaur, spilling her margarita down the front of her costume. “Aw, noooo!” she blinked, uncomprehending as the cold hit her. A shaky step back brought her to the table, where she knocked a tray of sausage rolls onto the floor. “Oh, nooo,” she wailed, then, somehow, Heather was at her side.

“Hey, RhiRhi,” Heather said gently, wrapping an arm around her. “The party’s kind of winding down. How about I get you a ride home.”

Rhiannon blinked slowly, her cold, wet boobs forgotten. Going home sounded great. Crawling into bed would do her wonders. “You’re the best, thank youuuu,” she slurred, trying to hug her friend.

“No thank you,” Heather responded quickly but kindly, still supporting Rhiannon, holding her phone and deftly avoiding getting margarita on her fairy princess costume all at once.

“Shit, sorry! I made a mess, huh?” Rhiannon looked at herself, then tried to focus on the party as Heather expertly manoeuvred her out.

“It’s fine, let’s just get you home, huh?”

“I’m sorry I wrecked your party!” Hot tears stung Rhiannon’s eyes. “A.J. leaves, I didn’t get that job, my car broke down–”

“That one’s probably good luck,” Heather teased gently.

“That’s what I need,” Rhiannon gasped, excited. “Some good luck. A whole year of good luck. Thaaaat’s what I neeeed.”

Heather had guided her to the front porch. “It’ll turn around soon, babe. Just get a good night’s sleep. Ride’s almost here.”

Rhiannon spied the twelve foot tall figure with the jack-o’-lantern head looming over Heather’s other Halloween decorations. “I really like your pumpkin guy.”

Laughing softly, Heather replied, “Thanks, we call him The Pumpkin Lord.”

“Hey! Pumpkin Lord!” Rhiannon staggered toward the decoration. “Hey! I need some luck! You grant wishes? I’m wishin’ for a whole year of luck!”

“Okay sweetie, let’s just sit and wait for – "

Rhiannon allowed herself be led back toward the porch, then suddenly had a new idea. “He’s huge. I bet he’s really hung!” She tried to turn back, slipping out of Heather’s grasp. “Y’wanna get lucky, Pumpkin Lord? Gimme some luck, an’ you can have whatever you want.” She tried for a sexy pose but ended up falling backward into Heather’s arms.

Rhiannon woke to the sound of leaves rustling, which was strange. She never slept with the windows open and she had no plants. Blinking in the dark – was the power out? she didn’t even see the glow from her clock – and she tried to roll over. Tried, and failed. Her arms were above her head and her wrists would move. Something was wrapped snugly around them. Her ankles too.

Panic shot through her. She jerked hard, but the restraints only tightened against her skin. Vines? She looked up, blinking in the near total darkness. Vines! Fresh and green, coiled up from the mattress, holding her down, squeezing her into the mattress.

“The hell…?”

A rumbling sound cut her off, making her squeak in fright. Half distant thunder, half something massive moving through bushes; menacing, mocking laughter.

From the shadows in the corner of her room, near the foot of her bed, he emerged. Gigantic and only vaguely man-shaped. Instead of a head, he had a jack-o’-lantern crowned with curling vines, grinning with blazing firelight. His carved eyes flared as he looked her over.

“You called to me, witch” he rumbled. He circled the bed, the vines twitching against her skin, tightening as he moved. “You offered yourself. In every way. So I have come.”

“I–I was drunk!”

The ragged vines scraped against her skin as they tightened further and Rhiannon heard the tangled vine-crown he wore scraping the ceiling as the Pumpkin Lord bent over her. “You deny the bargain? You offered yourself in every way.”

Something primal in her quailed. She shivered, looking up at him. She was afraid, yes, but overpowering that was a molten ache low in her belly. She whispered: “What if I deny it?”

“Bad luck. Rot. Misery.” Somehow his carved grin widened. “Should you honour it … bliss.”

The vines snaked up her legs, past her knees, rough and sensual along her thighs. Her heart hammered in her chest, terror and desire blending indistinguishably. Rhiannon swallowed hard, chest heaving. “Yes.”

He bent over her, one clawed hand pressing the vines deeper into her skin until she whimpered. His voice crackled like logs in fire, “Your fear feeds me. Your arousal feeds you. We both win, little witch.”

She felt the bed sink as he joined her. One knee between her legs, the other on the outside. The darkness that shrouded him parted revealing an undeniably masculine body, but constructed from braided roots and vines and not to any human scale. Rhiannon gasped and, in spite of herself, spread her legs a little more. The co-mingled scent of smoke and pumpkin and earth gave her an inexplicable thrill. Already she could feel her need pooling beneath her on the bed, soaking the sheets.

“It has been too long I’ve waited, witch,” he growled, each syllable like an electric current through her body, teasing her desperate sex. The vines crept further up her thighs and – almost tenderly – parted her lips, one even moved further up to caress her clit, drawing a wanton groan from her. “I am honoured to serve…”

“Wha–?” Rhiannon managed, suddenly confused, but then the Pumpkin Lord had revealed … what? Where a man’s cock would be was something unutterably obscene. Pale yellow with stripes so dark green they could have been black, covered from tip to root in bulbous nodules and bumps and ridges, the tip adorned with six wide, knobbly wings. dispersed around the tip of his phallus. A gourd! she thought wildly, nearly giggling before he thrust the monstrous appendage into her.

“Aaaaah~” she gasped loudly, her toes clenched into little fists, almost painfully so, as she tried to ride the Pumpkin Lord. The tip was too big, too strangely shaped, too uneven, as the horrific monster thrust again and again Rhiannon could do little more than whimper and struggle against her bonds. She so desperately wanted to claw at his back, not to deter him but to drive him harder. He pounded her hips, his gourd-cock plunging deep into her cunt and each time he reached his full reach the flared tip seemed to throb inside her, and Rhiannon tried desperately to clench her Kegel muscles on him. She needed to milk him, she needed whatever monster-cum he would pump into her and she needed it now!

“I want every hole, little witch,” The Pumpkin Lord rumbled as he pulled out of her, causing Rhiannon to whimper with shameless need. He trailed a syrupy orange liquid between her cunt and his gourd-cock, she dimly wondered if that was his precum.

“Yes,” she groaned as she rolled her hips, desperately trying to rub herself against his bizarre member. She needed it, she was close, and he could push her over the edge with barely a –

“No,” he seemed to reconsider and Rhiannon nearly broke into tears at the implication. Instead, though, he entered her slippery passage once more, filling her so much she could hardly breathe. “I have no need to rush,” the loamy, pumpkin-ish breath washed over her.

Her body betrayed her, shuddering under his control. Every pull of the vines made her writhe harder, every scrape of their rough fibres pushed her closer to something she didn’t want to admit. Every thrust of that horrible, bulbous gourd-cock filled her with dread. She should have been horrified. She was horrified. But she was also burning, every nerve alive with sensation she couldn’t deny.

His ember-eyes blazed as he studied her, a king pleased with his tithe. “You’ll remember this night,” he promised. “And when the year is sweet, you’ll know it was earned.”

The vines cinched tighter, locking her down completely. She let out a strangled cry that melted into something breathless, wanton, shameless.

“Good,” he growled. “Thank you, witch.”

By the time dawn glowed faint at the window, she was spent. The vines slowly uncoiled, leaving her wrists raw and her thighs trembling.

He leaned down, heat radiating from his carved grin, ember-eyes flickering low. “This year is yours. Next October…” His grin widened. “We will bargain again.”

Her lips trembled, throat dry. Shame should have drowned her, but the word that left her mouth was soft, aching, hungry: “Please.”

Knotty

Creepy Cabin Lust

Fri, 24 Oct 2025 00:00:00 +0000

“Hey everyone!” Hazel beamed into the camera she held at arm’s length. “TwitchWitch again we’re on another spooky adventure!” She walked backward down a narrow path toward a cabin surrounded by dense woods. “Of course I’m here with my producer, the original BooBuster!” She turned the camera on Lena who was carrying two bags of groceries and a cardboard box of Merlot.

“I didn’t even choose that name! You just like that it sounds like ‘boob’!” Lena grumbled gently. Hazel’s chaotic enthusiasm was the thing Lena loved most about her, and Lena loved a lot about Hazel.

The camera whipped back to frame Hazel’s ebullient smile, “We’re all the way out in – "

“The middle of nowhere,” Lena called as she appeared in-frame behind Hazel, carrying the supplies to the front door of the cottage.

“– the woods,” Hazel continued, undaunted, “spending the weekend at this reportedly haunted cottage to commune with the dead! And make s’mores.”

“Mostly s’mores,” Lena called again, nearly dropping the box of wine trying to unlock the door.

“It’s so weird, I’m not getting anything,” Hazel had circled the interior of the cabin three times, camera in one hand and K2 in the other, while Lena prepared dinner. The EMF detector hadn’t even flickered. Lena finished the dishes as Hazel added the bedroom and the bathroom to her exploration.

Outside, the weather had turned unexpectedly. Lena remembered weather reports calling for clear skies all weekend. Rain hammered the tiny windows and wooden walls as the wind buffeted the whole structure. A beast seeking a way in.

“Babe,” Lena called from the couch. “How about you take a break, huh? I got a fire going.” Hazel would be disappointed if she didn’t find any ’evidence’ but Lena really wanted an evening with her girlfriend.

“We should greet them! The spirits get testy if we aren’t respectful,” Hazel announced as she returned, the camera and EMF detector nowhere to be seen. She cleared a space on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“You’re thinking of my supervisor,” Lena teased as she moved to the floor as well.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite each other, with a small incense burner between them and a glass of wine each, the women began Hazel’s welcoming ritual.

“We’re hoping to communicate with anyone who may be here,” Hazel began, glancing around the dark corners of the room. “My name’s Hazel. This is Lena. We don’t mean any disrespect.” She shot Lena a warning look. Don’t scoff, it said. They won’t like it, it said.

“You’re welcome here,” they intoned together, a script Lena knew well. “You’re welcome here,” they repeated, and once more, then sipped their wine. Suddenly, an exceptionally powerful gust crashed around the cabin, throwing the front door wide and startling both women.

Hazel’s was jubilant! “Hello? You’re here? Thank you for that sign!”

Lena laughed as she ran to the door, making sure it was latched and bolted. “Babe, it’s a miracle this place is still standing! The wind blowing open a door isn’t a sign from beyond.”

Hazel offered a patient smile, “Well explain this!” She held up her forearm for Lena’s inspection. “Look! Goosebumps! It’s freezing all of a sudden!”

Lena smirked and pulled Hazel into a gentle embrace. “I’ll give you goosebumps.”

Giggling, Hazel draped her arms over Lena’s shoulders, “But the spirits are watching!”

“Well, they can like and subscribe,” Lena murmured, her lips meeting Hazel’s. Their kiss deepened as her tongue entered Hazel’s mouth. Hazel responded eagerly, pressing her hips against Lena’s and running her hands down Lena’s sides, tugging her shirt out of her jeans.

Lena moaned into Hazel’s mouth, kissing her with a desperate passion as she slipped both hands down the back of Hazel’s leggings.

“Babe!” Hazel pulled back, eyes wide enough to see the whites. “D’you feel that?”

Lena hesitated to admit it, but she had felt a strange tingle; probably the storm, the atmosphere, Hazel’s unwavering belief in the supernatural. Still, she had felt something. A little electric shock pulsing over their skin, not painful, just a pinch.

“Static discharge? From the storm?” she guessed, grasping at rational explanations, though she knew she was just throwing out words.

“They like us!” Hazel’s hands crept up Lena’s back beneath her shirt as she called out to the ‘spirits’, “Thank you! For letting us know you’re here!”

“C’mon, babe!” Lena murmured softly as she squeezed Hazel’s perfectly shaped ass. “It’s just us.” But even as she said it, her voice lacked the usual certainty.

Hazel claimed Lena’s lips with a fierce, hungry kiss, tearing her shirt over her head and tossing it aside. Her tongue invaded Lena’s mouth with urgent need as her hands unhooked the back of Lena’s painfully practical “granny-bra.” Hazel’s tongue tangled with Lena’s in a wild, drowning hunger, her lips trailing down to her neck before she grasped Lena’s full, inviting breasts. She squeezed once, then yanked Lena’s bra off, exposing thick, dark nipples to the cool night air. “Babe,” she breathed over Lena’s skin, her lips moving lower, to the sensitive curve of Lena’s left breast, where she suckled with teasing, possessive intent.

Lena gasped as an incredibly cold fingertip trailed down her bare back. “Haze?” she whimpered softly.

Hazel smiled impishly, releasing the nipple just long enough to say, “It’s just us,” then quickly unbuttoned Lena’s jeans and tugged them down around her knees.

The cabin shuddered, the wind buffeting it again and Lena was sure she’d heard voices – more than one – sighing happily beneath the gale. She opened her mouth to say something but lost her words as Hazel’s lips pressed against the her pubic mound, then further down.

She could feel Hazel’s probing tongue pushing against her panties; her treasures beneath.

“Haaa~,” Lena gasped, burying her hands in Hazel’s hair. She’d intended to speak but Hazel had exposed her pussy and began licking eagerly, back to front, curling her tongue inside with each pass.

Frigid, invisible fingers began teasing Lena’s nipples.

Lena tightened her grip on Hazel’s hair, and Hazel took it as encouragement. She lapped harder, faster, soft moans of delight escaping her lips as she explored Lena’s depths.

“Haze,” Lena gasped, her mind foggy with lust and a touch of panic over the hands now playing with her tits. Ghostly, icy hands that only heightened her arousal.

MmmHMMM! Hazel moaned into Lena’s pussy, sending a thrumming wave through Lena’s most sensitive parts. She moved her hands to Lena’s behind, giving each cheek a rough squeeze pulling her lover’s crotch firmly against her face.

Lena made a sound that might have been the start of Hazel’s name or just a wordless whimper, but she was silenced by a kiss. Their unseen companion, one of them, at least, claimed Lena’s mouth. The lips against hers were like ice, but the tongue that sought out hers was warm and full of passion.

She lost herself then, sinking into the wonderful feelings of riding her girlfriend’s face while ghostly hands played with her breasts and a ghostly mouth gave her a wildly passionate, longing kiss.

Other ghostly hands were on her thighs, on her back, and as one of those icy fingers grazed her labia then began probing gently at Lena’s asshole, she broke. Whimpering and trembling and squeezing her thighs as tight as she could against Hazel’s head while the first, of many, orgasms crashed into her.

Lena lay tangled in the blankets they had pulled onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling with an expression of blissful disbelief. Hazel kissed her softly, then got up and ambled int the kitchen. “Shit, the batteries are dead!”

Lena blinked slowly and pushed herself up on an elbow, a sleepy smile lingering on her face. “What? Babe, were you recording that?”

Hazel blushed prettily and let out a shy laugh. “I tried to! I didn’t think you were gonna, y’know, but yeah, of course I set up the tripod before we did the ritual.”

Lena groaned softly, a warm flush spreading through her. “I’m on a sexorcism tape.”

Hazel giggled as she rejoined Lena on the floor, curling close again. “I’ll edit it very tastefully! It’s gonna be our first million likes.”

They stayed there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms. The storm had passed and the night was silent all around. As Lena drifted off to sleep she thought she heard a voice from somewhere very far away.

Thank you for letting us in.

Knotty