The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales

by Zoe Blake

  “Get back over the table,” he said.

  “No.” She folded her arms over her chest, marveling at her own audacity but realizing at the same time that she had been speaking the truth—she really did have nothing to lose.

  “I’ll tell Mother.”

  “Tell her.” Ella’s backside throbbed and she was aware that she must look ridiculous with her pants and panties around her knees, standing up to a man who was only a year her senior, but at that moment, she didn’t care. I’ve snapped, she thought suddenly. I’ve finally reached the end of my rope. It was curiously liberating.

  “I’ll ask you one more time. Get back down, take the remaining swats, and we’ll pretend you never had that little outburst.”

  She had to hand it to him, he was still trying to maintain the façade of having the upper hand, even if he had lost. And, judging by the look in his eyes, he knew it.

  “How many more?” she asked, lifting her chin. For some reason, the realization that she had won this little argument was enough for her to back off. For now. Truth be told, Ella was exhausted, and the sooner they got this little scenario over with, the sooner she could finish the remainder of her daily tasks and escape to bed. She had some serious thinking to do.

  Nathan hesitated. “Seven.”

  “Three,” she countered.

  “Five. Final offer.”

  She almost smiled. “Fine. Five more.” Feigning indifference, she turned once more, bending over the desk. “And hurry up.”

  The renewed burning, searing pain was an indication that Nathan was trying to make the most of his remaining swats, trying to punish her further for her outburst, but Ella’s mind was on other things and she took each and every one without making a sound.

  She wasn’t sure why it had taken her so long to reach this point, but now she had. And she was going to make some changes in her life.

  Nathan tossed the paddle aside without another word, and Ella was equally silent as she pulled up her panties and pants and left the study. Anastasia was hovering near the door, eavesdropping as usual, Ella thought bitterly, but she resolutely ignored her stepsister and marched purposefully up to her little attic bedroom. Once there, she flopped down on the bed, ignoring the dull ache in her buttocks, and looked up at the one thing that gave her life meaning.

  Oh, Zainon, why can’t you come in on a white charger and rescue me from all this? she thought ruefully, gazing up at the handsome, square jaw, the deep, intense eyes and the shaggy black hair of the man on the poster. Ella had tacked it to the sloping wall in such a way that she was able to see it comfortably when she was lying down.

  Zainon Matthews was a musician—no, a rock god. His singles consistently hit the top of the indie charts and he regularly performed to sold out stadiums, with legions of screaming fans all scrambling to get a better look at their idol. He enjoyed the sort of adulation normally reserved for teen popstars; but this was no baby-faced industry puppet. He had real talent, could play several instruments (although no-one could beat him on the guitar) and had a raw, smoky voice which sent shivers down Ella’s spine whenever she heard him sing.

  In her view, his God-given good looks were just the icing on the cake.

  Anastasia and Nathan, both also big fans, had every album he’d ever recorded, and Anastasia had so many posters of him that she’d once, in a rare moment of sisterly sympathy, given one to Ella. Of her two step-siblings, Anastasia was by far the kinder. Unfortunately, she was also timid, and rarely dared to speak out against Nathan or their mother’s harsh treatment of Ella.

  With a deep sigh, Ella closed her eyes, feeling the familiar ache in her chest at the thought that Zainon Matthews was scheduled to give a concert a mere hour’s drive away in just a few days’ time. Nathan and Anastasia both had tickets, of course. Ella had tried everything, she had even fallen to her knees and begged her stepmother to be allowed to go, but the bitch had simply given that infuriating smirk of hers.

  “If you finish your chores on time,” she’d said, looking down her nose at Ella.

  “Then I can go?” Ella had been so full of hope she’d been unable to breathe.

  “That’s what I said.”

  What she hadn’t said was that she would hand Ella a list of tasks so ridiculously long that there was no way she would ever be able to get them done in a month, let alone three days. But Ella was no fool, she’d had a feeling there would be some kind of catch. If not an unmanageable list of things to do, then it would have been something else impossible. There was no way she would ever be allowed to do something as wonderful as attend a concert. She never had before, why should things change?

  You could go anyway, a small voice in the back of her head told her. After all, what have you got to lose? What would they do to you afterwards? Beat you? Keep you in the house and force you to work your fingers to the bone from morning till night, seven days a week?

  Ella allowed herself a small smile at the irony of it all. But she didn’t have any money, no means of transport, nothing to wear and, most important of all, no ticket.

  It was all so unfair. Ignoring the dull ache in her bottom, she crossed one long leg over the other, folded her arms behind her head, and stared deeply into Zainon’s light gray eyes, willing him to show her a way. One night. One night was all she was asking for. A few measly hours in exchange for a lifetime of servitude and drudgery, one magical experience about which she could dream and fantasize for the rest of her life. Something amazing to cling to while she scrubbed floors, polished windows, pruned plants, washed dishes, mended clothing, and did the thousand and one other things that toiling in her stepmother’s house involved.

  “Please, Zee,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke his chiseled cheek. “Show me a way.”

  Unfortunately, the day before the concert, Ella still hadn’t come any closer to finding a way to get there. Nor had she been able to make any significant progress on that ridiculous, mile-long list she’d been given.

  “How are you coming along?” Her stepmother’s voice was almost gleeful. “Do you think you’ll finish on time? Time’s a’ticking.”

  Ella dropped the sponge she’d been using to wash out the kitchen cupboards and spun around to face the tall, angular woman. “I’ve been asking you this question for years and you’ve never given me a decent answer. But I will ask again: why do you enjoy torturing me so?”

  Griselda raised an arched eyebrow. “Torturing you, my dear? I cannot fathom what you mean.”

  “You know exactly what I mean. I bet you don’t even have a ticket for me. I bet you’re just using this whole thing as yet another way to humiliate—” Her words died in her throat as her stepmother reached into her skirt pocket and produced a slip of paper.

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean, dear. Of course I have your ticket. It’s right here.”

  Ella eyed the card suspiciously. “How do I know that’s a real ticket?”

  Griselda held it out. “You can see for yourself. Uh-uh, don’t take it. You will be able to hold this in your grubby little hands once you’ve completed all the tasks.”

  Zainon Matthews Live, the ticket said. Ella’s heart beat faster at the sight of the delicately embossed words. The date, the time, the location… it all seemed to be real. So close, and yet so far. “Please,” she whispered in a strangled voice. “I’ve never asked you for anything. In all the years since Father died, I’ve cooked, cleaned, served and waited on you hand and foot. Not just you, but on Nathan and Anastasia as well. Never a single birthday gift, never a kind word in return, but I always still—”

  “Always what?” Griselda barked. “Behaved? Did as you were told?” She gave a shrill laugh. “If that were truly the case, would we keep having to punish you? How many times has poor darling Nathan had to take the paddle or the strap to you—to no avail? And as for the ridiculous notion that I’ve never given you anything… is food and shelter nothing? You have a roof over your head, clothes on your back, enough to eat. You get a damn s
ight more than you deserve. Even now, you’re getting a fair chance to attend this stupid event, although I cannot for the life of me fathom why you—any of you—would want to go. I’ve heard this… person… sing, and really, what he does cannot be called music. Not by any stretch of the imagination!”

  Ella sighed, biting her lower lip as the ticket was once again removed from her sight and tucked back into Griselda’s skirt pocket. She was too tired to argue. I might as well face facts… no matter what I do, I won’t be able to go. Bitter tears of disappointment threatened to spill over and she swallowed them back past the sudden lump in her throat. “Fine,” she said at length. “If you say so, Mother.”

  “Do not presume to take that tone with me, young lady,” Griselda spat. “Else I’ll think of some more things to add to that list.”

  “I don’t think that would make any difference.” Ella clenched her fists. “Your list as it stands is more than adequate. In fact, I might as well give up now. You know as well as I do that your demands are impossible. Ten people working around the clock couldn’t complete those tasks in time for tomorrow evening.”

  Her stepmother gave a mocking chuckle. “Such a defeatist attitude, dear. So pathetic. Just like your father. I must admit, I was a little irritated when he died so young, leaving you in my care…” she eyed Ella as though she were a cockroach on a plate of food, “but in another way, I suppose it was a blessing of sorts. You have saved me a fortune I would otherwise have had to spend on real servants.”

  Before Ella could rush at the woman and claw her ugly eyes out, Griselda spun around and flounced out of the kitchen.

  “I will never understand what he saw in you, you evil bitch,” she muttered under her breath. “Oh, what’s the use? I may as well just give up now.” She picked up the sponge and flung it against the wall. Then the bucket full of soapy water caught her eye. She had just taken aim when Anastasia’s voice startled her.

  “Don’t.”

  Ella paused. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t kick the bucket over. You’re only making more work for yourself.”

  Ella eyed her suspiciously. “Why? What do you care? You don’t have to clean it up.”

  “Well, no, but still…” Anastasia trailed off, emerging slowly from the corner in which she’d been standing, silent as a shadow.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” Ella asked with a huff. “Why do you always stand around in corners, watching, listening? Do you enjoy seeing me suffer?”

  “No.” The slim girl was fidgeting, her long, dark hair hanging over her face, obscuring her features as always. “No, I don’t. I feel bad for you.”

  “Not bad enough to stick up for me,” Ella said bitterly, crossing the room to retrieve the sponge. Then she felt bad. Out of the three members of her family, Anastasia had always been the kindest by far; giving her the poster of Zainon, secretly giving her extra food, and even letting Ella have her old iPod when she’d received a new one for her birthday. It had been loaded with all the music Zainon Matthews had ever recorded, and Ella no longer knew what she’d have done without that single pleasure in her life. “It’s all right,” she said, catching sight of Anastasia’s stricken face. “I know you don’t dare.”

  “You’re right, I am a coward. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for you.”

  “I don’t need your pity.” Ella added more soap to the sponge, then dropped it on the counter with a wet thud. “Ugh, what’s the point? I won’t be going tomorrow anyway, I may as well stop killing myself.”

  Anastasia glanced over her shoulder, then moved closer to Ella. “You will be going,” she whispered urgently. “I’m going to help you.”

  “What?” It was some kind of trap, it must be… but even so, she felt a tiny flicker of hope in her breast.

  “You heard me. I’m going to help you. We’re going to get the ticket from Mom somehow, and you’re going to the concert. With me.”

  “Are you serious? Why?” Ella narrowed her eyes. “What’s in it for you? If Mother catches you, you’ll be in for it.”

  Anastasia stole another glance around the kitchen, obviously terrified Griselda or Nathan would emerge at any moment. “Not here,” she said. “Meet me in my room in ten minutes. If anyone comes in, I’ll say I have mending for you to do. I’ll explain there.”

  Before Ella could reply, her stepsister had slipped away as silently as she had come.

  “All right, I’m here,” Ella said, closing Anastasia’s bedroom door and leaning against it.

  “Where are Mom and Nath?”

  “Nathan’s gone out. Your mother’s around somewhere… downstairs, I think. But still, we should hurry up. Tell me why you want to help me. Is this some kind of trick?” Ella still couldn’t believe what Anastasia had whispered in the kitchen. It just seemed too good to be true.

  Her stepsister sank down onto her bed, her fingers pleating and re-pleating her coverlet. “There’s this guy,” she began.

  Ella waited, then, when no more information seemed forthcoming, she resisted the urge to shake her stepsister and gave a little huff of impatience. “You like him?” she guessed.

  Anastasia’s eyes, when she looked up at Ella, were shining with a light Ella had never seen before. “Oh, yes. I do like him. So much!”

  There was another interminable pause. “And?” Ella prompted.

  “Well, you see, he’s agreed to go with me tomorrow night. To see Zainon Matthews.”

  “That’s wonderful! I’m very happy for you.” Ella still didn’t see how any of this had anything to do with her being able to go.

  “But he’ll only go if he can bring his friend… and if I,” Anastasia cleared her throat, “if I bring a friend, too. Like a double date.”

  “Ah.” So there’s the catch.

  “That’s all you have to say? Ah?”

  “Why don’t you take one of your friends?” Ella couldn’t resist asking. To her surprise, Anastasia went crimson.

  “I… well, I don’t really have very many friends.”

  “I don’t believe you. I see them all the time, coming to pick you up when you all go somewhere.” While I watch enviously from the window.

  “Those are more Nathan’s friends than mine. They let me tag along, but I’d rather not take any of them tomorrow—even if they do get a ticket—because I’m not sure I can trust any of them not to tease me. I want it to go well.”

  “But you trust me?” Ella was incredulous.

  “Why shouldn’t I? You have the kindest heart out of anyone I know. You would never do anything to purposefully hurt me—you would have all the reason in the world to be awful to me or anyone else in this family, and yet you never do anything. You just… obey.”

  Ella pondered her stepsister’s words. “I suppose you’re right.” There was some truth in Anastasia’s statement she would need to reflect on later, but for now, there was a more pressing matter to deal with. “So you’re really being serious? You’re going to help me?”

  “I am. I’m going to get the ticket out of Mom’s room somehow—she doesn’t watch me as closely as she does you—and then I’m going to lend you some of my clothes and you can ride with me.”

  A wave of excitement began to rise in Ella’s chest, but then another thought quashed it as quickly as it had appeared. “Don’t you think your mother will notice I’m gone?”

  “Oh.” Anastasia’s face sank. “I really hadn’t thought of that.”

  It took Ella about two minutes to make up her mind. “You know what? Let’s go anyway. We can sneak out and will be gone before she notices.”

  “But she will notice that we’re gone,” Anastasia protested.

  “Yes, but so what? What’s she going to do? Punish me?” Ella was unable to contain her bitter smile. “Quite honestly? If I get to go tomorrow, I don’t care what she does to me afterwards. She could quite literally kill me, and I still think it would be worth it.”

  “Really?” Anastasia pushed her dark hair out of h
er eyes. “But what about me? Do you think she’ll punish me, too?”

  It’s a risk I’d be willing to take, Ella thought, but instead she said, “What’s the guy’s name?”

  All at once, the light was back in her stepsister’s face. “Joshua. Oh, Ella, he’s just… he’s so…” she trailed off.

  “And his friend? My date?” Ella still couldn’t believe what she was saying. She’d never been on a date before.

  “Oh, um, Gregory, I think.” Anastasia wrinkled her nose. “He’s blond. Tall. But don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything with him.”

  “I should hope not!” Ella suddenly felt giddy, the way she had when she’d been permitted a small glass of champagne last Christmas. Griselda had been in an unusually generous mood. “Besides, I prefer dark-haired men.” She thought wistfully of Zainon. Will I really see him tomorrow? Be in the same room as him? Breathe the same air?

  “Oh, so do I. Josh has lovely hair. Brown curls, and this little dimple on his chin—”

  “He sounds very nice,” Ella interrupted, “but we really don’t have much time. So we need to start planning. Do you have any idea how you’re going to get that ticket? Because if you don’t, I’ve just thought of something that might work…”

  Chapter Two

  Ella’s heart was beating so hard she could barely breathe. Although, she thought on reflection, that might also have had something to do with the corset she’d been forced to wear. Anastasia had insisted that it looked ‘absolutely amazing’ and made Ella’s already slender waist almost impossibly small. On her stepsister’s advice, she had added a short black skirt—’to show off those long legs’—and even let Anastasia turn her long, blonde hair into a cascade of ringlets. She still treasured a few items she had been given to remember her mother by, which included a pair of high-heels which fit her small, narrow feet perfectly. She had waited until she was outside the house before putting them on, however, as they didn’t want to risk Griselda overhearing their escape.