Page 18 of Snatched By the Scarecrow

“I’m always watching.”

I struggle against him once more, not because I want to get away, but I like the feel of him manhandling me, holding me against the unique landscape of his body and not letting me go. I want to enjoy it while I can, because if this isn’t real…

“It’s real,” he says, like he’s read my mind. “I’m going to show you now.”

I wriggle in his hold like a cat trying to escape, and he turns me to face him. Since he’s not human, there’s no signs of exertion, still, I wonder how he got here so fast.

Silas walks me backward until my back hits something that feels like wood. I look up and notice we’re at the cross he’s usually tied upon, rope that held him hanging from the horizontal piece. I look back at him, and he holds me firmly. I wriggle in a last-ditch effort, and he presses his groin to mine. The bulge I felt before rubs against my sex, and my body lights up like the flame inside a jack-o-lantern.

“Do you need to be tied down?” he taunts.

Lightning bolts travel through me, and my clit pulses at the idea. I should say no, but fuck it. I’ve gotten this far, haven’t I?

“Yes, Silas.”

He makes a feral noise that’s hard to explain, and the next second he’s using the rope that held his body to the cross to secure me to the bottom of it. Like a rigger who’s been doing this for years, he wraps it around my chest before securing my arms behind me, the wood digging into my back. I’m completely at his mercy now, and call me crazy, but I’m not scared. I feel oddly… safe.

Silas steps back to admire his work. He may not have eyes, but he’s expressive in his own way. The tilt of his hat, the contours of his burlap face, and the slit of his mouth doing all the work for him. He scans me up and down before he licks his lips.

My breasts strain against the newly tied rope confining me, and I struggle against the bindings.

Silas doesn’t say anything, instead he approaches me, his focus on my heaving chest. His gloved hand trails over the ropes until he’s at the peak of a nipple, the tight bud protruding through the white fabric of my dress. He looks at me, a silent question in his unseeing stare.

“Touch me,” I say. “You said you’d prove to me how real you are. So do it, Silas. Give me what you promised.”

He bends so we’re face to face. “Say please.”

“Please.”

The ripping noise of fabric is followed by the brisk night air brushing over my now bare breasts. He flicks the bar through my nipple before bringing his rough lips down on it and drawing it into his mouth.

I throw my head back against the pole, doing my best to arch my chest into him, wanting more.

He sucks harder on the sensitive bud, and the dual sensation of his wet, rough tongue and the uneven fabric of his mouth is unlike anything I’ve felt before. I fist my hands behind my back, regretting my choice to be tied up. I want to hold onto his arms, to know if there’s a hard body under his clothes. What will it look like, feel like, and what will his cock be like? It can’t look exactly like a human man’s, can it?

Silas bites down on my nipple and I cry out. He switches to the other, drawing the ring into his mouth, using the other hand to feed more of my small breast past his lips. Blood draws up to my nipple from the suction, making the area extra sensitive. He doesn’t let up until I’m begging for him to stop.

He pops off my budded flesh, the fall air doing nothing to ease the sensations on the taunt skin.

“You’re as beautiful as I dreamed you’d be,” he kisses up my chest until we’re face level. “And you’re all mine.”

Another ripping noise, and the rest of my dress hangs off me, leaving me in just my underwear. They’re a simple white bikini pair, and they’re soaked with my arousal, some of it dripping down my thighs. He sucks on my neck as his words register.

“You dreamed of me?” I ask.

Silas grips my cheeks between his fingers so my mouth is forced to open. “Stick out your tongue.”

I do as he requests, those eyeless sockets studying it. He presses one of his fingers down upon it, the taste of earth sparking across my tastebuds.

“Such a pretty hole. All of you is pretty, my eager one.” He slides his finger further back until my eyes water. “Even your tears.”

He pulls the digit out, and before I can comprehend what he’s doing, he’s dropped to his knees in front of me. Silas presses his face to my pussy, inhales, and does exactly what he’s done to the rest of my clothes. The wet fabric is torn away from my body, and then is tongue is there.

I pull against my bindings, feeling the rope cut into my flesh. The pain sparks further pleasure, and I cry out his name.

Silas’s textured tongue laps at my straining clit, flicking over the bud in perfectly precise movements. His hands grip my thighs, stronger than they should be for a man like him. It makes me wonder, yet again, what he looks like beneath his clothing.

He sucks my clit hard until I see stars. Reflexively I try to clench my thighs together. He pulls back, and I keen at the loss of his mouth and his cloth mouth brushing over my sensitive skin. He takes my clit between his fingers and pinches.