Chapter 3 #2
I never said I was. Are baskets not allowed to shake water off themselves? Is there a rule against that?
He sounded like a petulant teenager, not an ancient fae trapped in a wicker basket.
I stepped out and grabbed a towel while water dripped from my hair onto the floor. Creel had soaked the entire bathroom, but his leaves looked lovely, bright green against the dark wicker. I wrapped another towel around the basket and ignored his protests.
“You’re dripping.”
I do not require a towel.
“Gran’s carpet does.”
I carried him to the bedroom bundled in pink cotton, with green leaves sticking out of the top.
It was so ridiculous that I wanted to grab my phone from the kitchen to take a picture.
But who would I show it to? Nobody would understand.
Gran, perhaps, but that would involve finding out about her relationship with Creel and that was something better left unspoken.
I set Creel at the foot of the bed, then went back for my phone, put it on the nightstand – just in case I decided to take pictures of the basket’s cock to convince myself that this was real, not imagined – before dropping my towel.
His cock expanded before I had even climbed onto the mattress.
It was as obscene as the kale stalk that had inspired it, only smoother, harder and currently pointing at my pussy.
The wicker ripples around the shaft made my mouth water.
“That’s too big.”
You admired the kale.
“Not sure admiring is the right word. I thought that it looked like a very impressive phallic object. Doesn't mean it would have fit. Make it smaller.”
How much smaller?
“Half.”
Several strands peeled away and returned to the basket. The cock left behind looked far less impressive. It was positively disappointing.
“That’s too small.”
You said half.
“I got it wrong. Add some back.”
The shaft thickened as new wicker wound around it. If only human men could change their dicks like this. I'd never need another toy again.
“More.”
Creel obliged, although I could hear the laughter in his voice when he asked, Is this precise enough?
I climbed onto the mattress and sat facing him with my back towards the pillows.
The cock bent forwards and rubbed between my legs.
I grabbed the sides of the basket and pulled him closer until the rim pressed against my calves.
It was good to have something to hold on to.
The wicker was cool against my flushed skin.
The cock's rounded tip pressed against my entrance without slipping inside.
“Maybe slightly thicker.”
You are difficult to please.
“You promised to bring me joy. I’m giving you instructions to make this the best possible experience. It's the first time I'm having sex with a magical basket. Might as well make it the best fuck ever.”
He added another layer of wicker. I ran my hand along the finished shape, checking for rough edges. The wet strands had a smooth grain that would feel good without threatening splinters.
“Do I need a condom?”
No. I cannot make you carry a child. I carry no human illness and release no seed.
“But you can come?”
The cock nudged my pussy again. I can feel pleasure through every part of this body. I assure you, I can come.
“Good.” I lay back and spread my knees wider, keeping Creel braced between my calves at the foot of the bed. “I need you to get me ready first.”
Two narrow braids unwound from his side and slid over my thighs. One curled around my ankle while the other stroked the inside of my leg, stopping before it reached my pussy.
“Hold my wrists too.”
Creel went still. Are you certain?
“Yes.”
More wicker ran the length of the mattress and wrapped around both wrists, drawing my hands above my head. Two thicker braids slipped beneath the mattress and wound around the bedframe, anchoring the basket at my feet.
The restraints tightened enough to keep me in place without hurting. I pulled against them to test the hold, and the answering pressure sent another rush of arousal through me.
Too tight?
“No. Perfect.”
Good girl.
I was never going to hear those words normally again.
One thin braid slipped between my legs and circled my clit while another pressed at my entrance. I lifted my hips as an invitation for him to push inside. The smooth wicker entered slowly, curving forwards once it was deep enough to rub the place that made my toes curl.
Fuck me. This felt unlike anything I'd ever had inside my pussy before. Not even that monster dildo had come anywhere close. Maybe it was because Creel adjusted to my anatomy. Maybe because he had the desire to make me feel good. Or maybe it was simply magic.
A second strand joined the first. They moved together, opening me while the third kept working my clit. I strained against the restraints and spread my legs wider as the first deep throbs of an orgasm began building. I could feel just how wet I was.
“Cock. Now.”
The thinner strands withdrew and Creel moved into position. The thick head pressed against my pussy and waited.
Take me.
I pushed my hips forwards. The tip slipped inside, stretching me enough to make me swear, and Creel stayed still while I adjusted. I took another inch, then another, feeling every ridge in the weave as it dragged against me.
“Give me a moment.”
He stopped immediately. I breathed through the stretch until my pussy relaxed around him, then tightened my fingers around the wicker holding my wrists.
“More.”
Creel pulled back and pushed into me again. Anchored to the bedframe, the basket held firm while I lifted my hips to meet each thrust, taking him a little deeper every time. Bands of wicker wound around my thighs and held them apart.
“Faster.”
His cock flexed with the angle of my hips, finding the position that felt best. Small ridges formed along the shaft and began moving from the base to the tip as he pulled out, then rolled in the other direction when he drove back inside.
“Oh fuck. Do that again.”
Ask properly.
“Please.”
Please what?
I groaned in frustration. “Please fuck me harder.”
Good girl.
He thrust deep, and the restraints held me down while his cock drove into me. The moving ridges rubbed every part of my pussy, changing before I could grow used to them. I stopped caring that he was a basket or that we were in Gran’s bed. I wanted him to keep going until I forgot my own name.
Creel’s groans became rougher. The confident comments disappeared as my pussy tightened around him and the leaves covering his handle shook against the mattress.
Kathleen. Touch me.
“My hands are tied.”
The wicker around my right wrist loosened at once. I reached down and gripped the base of his cock, squeezing the woven strands while he moved inside me.
Creel jerked hard enough to rock the basket.
“Like that?”
Again.
I tightened my hand. His cock swelled inside me, the sudden extra thickness pushing me close to my limit. It felt too good to tell him to shrink.
“That’s it. Stay that size.”
I cannot.
His voice sounded desperate. He’d lost control of the wicker, and the knowledge that I had done that to him sent me closer to the edge.
His thrusts became faster as I rubbed my clit with my free hand. The basket creaked against the bed, and fresh leaves pushed through his weave each time I squeezed him.
“Don’t stop.”
Creel drove into me and held himself deep. His cock tightened around itself, squeezing and releasing inside my pussy while every strand around my wrist and thighs began to shake.
I came with him. My pussy clenched around the pulsing wicker as the orgasm tore through me, leaving my legs trembling against the restraints. Creel groaned my name inside my head, and another burst of green leaves spread across his handle.
The wicker loosened as soon as we stopped moving. He released my wrist and thighs, then softened inside me and slipped out. I lay there catching my breath while a tentacle curled around my waist and another stroked the inside of my leg.
I ran my fingers through the leaves covering his handle.
No plucking.
“I said I was sorry.”
You laughed.
“I apologised after I stopped laughing.”
A leaf tickled my ribs. I smoothed it down and let my hand rest against the warm wicker. The gentleness felt surprisingly good after being tied up and fucked senseless.
We lay there, eyes closed, him gently stroking me and me stroking him.
Part of me wanted to go to sleep, but I wasn't quite ready for that.
What if I fell asleep and woke to a simple basket next to me, one without a voice and life and a huge, amazing cock?
What if the magic only lasted this one night?
What if he never made it to Samhain itself?
“How long were you asleep?” I asked eventually.
Creel’s strands stopped moving.
“How long since somebody touched you while you could feel it?”
Ask your grandmother.
I checked the clock on my phone. It was quarter to four. Gran might have been enjoying care-home life, but even the surprisingly fit widowers wouldn’t keep her awake at this hour.
“Tomorrow,” I said. “I’m not calling my eighty-two-year-old grandmother before dawn to ask how long it’s been since somebody touched her basket.”
A leafy strand curled around my ankle and settled there. Creel had apparently decided that was close enough.
You should sleep.
“Are you going to turn back into an ordinary basket?”
No.
I closed my eyes and focused on the pleasant throbbing in my pussy. I could still almost feel him there.