Page 10 of Are You Scared, Krowe?
I think he's going to try and give me more to drink. Isn't that what they did last time, when they said I could let loose?
But he doesn't tip a bottle to my lips. His hand disappears between my legs, and I realize I'm not just pinned to the ground.
I'm naked.
Fear ratchets through me as he moves closer, and I fight.
I fight, because I know what's about to happen, what maybe already happened.
Pain blooms in parts of me I've never considered, and terror leeches into every hard-fought breath.
"No!" I gasp when I feel his touch on my bare skin, in my most intimate spaces.
I flail my limbs and kick and scream... in my head.
In reality, I can't make myself move even if they weren't holding me down, and my stomach is threatening to revolt again at the new, horrible realization of what's happening.
"Relax, Scarecrow. It'll be so much easier for you if you do."
I don't want easy.
I want to go home.
I want to shower their touch off of me, to curl beneath my blankets and wait for death to sweep me away, to vomit up every drop of what I now know is the cum that I swallowed.
"No!" I scream in pain as he spears into me, his fingers tearing through already ravaged flesh.
I miss the numbness that’s fallen away in chunks since I woke up on the ground. I miss not knowing what was going on.
This is so much worse.
"Look at you, taking three fingers like that. I'm gonna get you to four before I fuck you... I'm gonna get my whole fist in there by the end of the night, so I can move you like the scarecrow you are."
The burn spreads as his thrusts grow more vigorous, uncontrolled.
Slowly, feeling comes back to my toes, my fingers... I twist them, desperate to grab hold of anything to get the upper hand, to push off the ground or kick him in the face. But my body still isn't my own; it doesn't obey my commands as I give them, and it's all wasted effort.
"There's the fourth." He says proudly, his voice low and gravelly as he whispers to the skin of my stomach.
Fighting is useless, and it fuckinghurts.
Every motion I make against him feels like his fingers will shred me from the inside, and I think I'm bleeding. Something wet rolls between my legs, dripping onto my asshole, and I realize he was right.
It kills me a little more than I've already died, trying to calm down enough to lay here and take it. It feels like acceptance, like agreement, like... consent. But it's not.
I don't want this from any of them. Not Krowe, who watches me with his hand stroking his thickening cock, not from Jackson who pries me apart with his fingers until he decides he's had enough of that. His cock is a relief, a blessed break from theprevious torture. It doesn't reach as deep, doesn't stretch me as far.
I close my eyes and try to breathe through the pain. Weird, that I'm numb, unable to move some parts of my body, and yet in absolute agony in other spaces. Spaces that are useless to help me escape.
My mind wanders, slipping away from me. It fills with images of the scarecrow, a man tied to the stake, watching this debauchery, my misery, completely unable to stop it. I think of the family he murdered, of how much blood there must have been.
It feels like I'm bleeding a lot.
A hand closes around my throat, and my eyes spring open at the realization that I was, indeed, drifting away. I don't know how long Jackson's been choking me. I just know that his hand tightens, pinching off the air in my lungs until my chest feels like it may explode.
I can't hear anything; all the sound seems to have been sucked out of the world now, like we exist in a vacuum. All I can see is him, his eyes dark and his jaw clenched as he bobs overtop of me, rocking me apart as he fucks into me and strangles the life from me.
It would be a mercy, probably, if he doesn't let go. To go back to the abyss, the dark and quiet where I see, hear, and feel nothing.
