i have worn plenty of ridiculous things because Madam told me to. panties, collars, costumes, ribbons tied around parts of me that did not need decorating. but the scarecrow costume remains special because it was barely a costume at all.

this is about an experience back when i was still fairly fresh as her sub – and still easily humiliated! Madam was having a small Halloween gathering at the estate. a few friends were coming over, and she wanted decorations around the property. i assumed my job would involve carrying pumpkins, hanging lights, moving tables, and handling all the boring work that somehow multiplies whenever people are invited over.

i was correct about that part. i just did not realize i would also become one of the decorations.

Madam told me to shower, shave, and report outside naked. being naked at home is my natural state, so i did not think much of the order. i figured she wanted to inspect me before deciding what costume i would wear.

she had already decided.

waiting beside one of the garden posts was an old flannel shirt, a battered straw hat, several pieces of rope, and a bag of straw. there were no pants.

i looked at the clothes. then i looked at Madam.

“you’re going to be my scarecrow.”

i asked if scarecrows normally wore pants.

Madam said good scarecrows did.

apparently, i was not going to be a good scarecrow.

she put the flannel shirt on me but left it unbuttoned. then she tied my wrists to a wooden pole so my arms stretched out to either side. another rope went around my waist and secured me to the post. i could shift my weight and move my feet, but i was not going anywhere.

then came the straw.

Madam tucked it into my sleeves, around my collar, beneath the hat, and through the open front of the shirt. some of it scratched. some of it tickled. some of it immediately found locations that straw has no business visiting.

i tried to wiggle one particularly determined piece away from my ass.

Madam added more.

once she was satisfied, she stepped back and looked me over. from the waist up, i almost resembled a scarecrow. from the waist down, i resembled a naked idiot tied to a post while his cock and balls enjoyed the autumn breeze.

she hung a little sign around my neck that read, “please judge our scarecrow.”

that should have warned me.

the first guests arrived about twenty minutes later. i heard their voices before they came around the side of the house. Madam greeted them, accepted their compliments on the decorations, and casually mentioned that she had made one of the displays herself.

then she brought them to me.

there is a special kind of embarrassment that comes from standing naked while fully clothed women slowly circle you and discuss your decorative value. they examined how Madam had tied me, adjusted some of my straw, and debated whether my expression looked frightened enough.

one woman said scarecrows were supposed to frighten birds, not look frightened themselves.

Madam told her that i had misunderstood the assignment.

another guest decided i needed a more authentic pose. she took hold of my chin, turned my face toward the garden, and told me to stare dramatically into the distance. i tried. then the wind moved the straw against my bare skin and i sneezed so hard that my hat fell over my eyes.

nobody found my dramatic performance convincing after that.

Madam made a game of asking each guest to rate me in three categories: appearance, usefulness, and ability to frighten wildlife. i did reasonably well in appearance, although i suspect the scoring had less to do with my costume than with the parts the costume did not cover. my usefulness score was mixed because i was not actually protecting any crops. my wildlife score was terrible.

a bird landed on the fence about six feet away and stared at me for several minutes.

one of the women pointed it out.

Madam said, “even the bird knows he’s harmless.”

the worst part was that the bird really did seem unimpressed. it tilted its head, looked at my exposed cock, and flew away. i would like to believe it left in terror. everyone else agreed it left from disappointment.

as the evening continued, the women found little ways to improve the display. someone buttoned one side of my shirt incorrectly. someone added a small pumpkin beside my feet. one guest stuffed so much extra straw around my waist that i looked like i had been attacked by a hay bale.

another woman drew a face on a paper bag and suggested putting it over my head.

Madam rejected that idea because she wanted to see me blush.

eventually, she let the guests vote on whether i had earned my release. i received one vote for yes and several votes for “leave him there a little longer.” i do not know why Madam bothered counting when she was clearly enjoying herself too much to untie me.

by the time she finally released me, my shoulders were tired, my skin was covered in little straw marks, and i had learned that autumn air becomes much colder after sunset when a woman has declined to provide you with pants.

Madam brushed the straw from my body, inspected me for scratches, and told me i had made a very amusing decoration. then she sent me inside to serve drinks, still wearing the open shirt and hat.

i asked if i could remove the remaining straw first.

Madam looked down at the pieces still clinging around my cock and balls.

“no. it completes the costume.”

and that is how i spent Halloween serving cocktails as a scarecrow who could not frighten a bird, impress a panel of judges, or convince his owner that pants were an essential part of seasonal clothing.