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You are the altar, not the sacrifice.
“Look at you. Pretty little darkling, all alone in this big, empty corn maze.”
“There’s no way out of here, you know that, right?” the scarecrow said with a chuckle.
“If I catch you, then you’re mine to play with.” He chuckled.
“Our little darkling is lost in this big maze. Let’s show her how well the corn keeps the screams from escaping,”
“Tell our professor how badly you want us both to fill you up, to stretch your holes and pump you full of our cum until you leave a trail behind you through this maze.”
“She’s beautifully macabre,” Harkins prosed, describing the wild banshee in front of us. “She’s a fucking psycho,” I corrected him.
“Don’t you want to come before you die?” I smacked his face, bringing him back to the present, a cold laugh rising from my throat.
“Say you’re mine,” he whispered, a desperate sound coming from his throat as he used my pussy for his pleasure. “Say you’re my dirty little whore, using a dead man’s cock to make you come.”
No, settling for someone who barely tolerated me was the worst thing I had done to myself.
