The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales

by Zoe Blake

  Flinching, she swallowed hard as she listened to him opening a zipper, desperate to avoid what she knew was coming. “Wait! The cameras aren’t even—” Just as she started to speak the little lights came to life around the room, eight red eyes watching her on her knees. “But, but it’s dark. This is pointless, they can’t—”

  “Nightvision. Now open your mouth like a good girl. Make me happy and maybe I’ll give you something to sleep on other than the floor.” His fist returned to her hair and he pulled her forward, his cock brushing her cheek. “But, don’t forget, I already told you what happens if you use your fucking teeth.”

  “What about the lights?” she asked anxiously as she reached up to grasp the base of his shaft.

  “If you want the lights back, you better make me really happy after you made me chase you.” He jerked her head forward, rubbing himself against her in an unspoken command.

  Her stomach roiled, and she wanted to shout at him, to tell him that he was the one who controlled the fucking lights and he could have turned them on and found her in an instant if he wanted to. He had been the one enjoying the chase, not her—no matter how her damn body responded. But, instead of screaming, instead of being brave, she parted her lips and licked at the head of him. He tasted like clean, male skin, the precum coating her tongue.

  So normal for such an insane situation. Too normal. She squeezed her eyes tight, a ridiculous effort since she couldn’t see him anyway, but it made it easier to imagine someone else, someone kind as she slid him deeper into her mouth. Moving her tongue along the underside, she started a steady rhythm while she stroked him with her hand.

  For a few minutes he let her control it, barely shifting his hips as she worked him in and out, the only response the low groans from high above her head. Then his fist tightened and he thrust, knocking her head back against the wall. He eased back for a moment, and then on the next forward movement he pressed into her throat, choking off her air. Her hands went to his hips, trying to push him back, but he slapped one of them away and growled. “Hands behind your back. Now.”

  As if to make his point, he forced himself into her throat again, pinning her head to the wall so that she couldn’t breathe at all, and then he held still. It took everything she had to pull her hands from him and fold them behind her back, her lungs burning, but finally he eased out of her throat and she tore air in through her nose. She had enough time for a few breaths, and then he was face fucking her in deep strokes, giving her sips of air that kept her on the edge of panic, pleading wordlessly.

  “You know your whimpers only make my cock harder, princess.” His voice was growling, but somehow amused, and she hated that she was whimpering and choking. Every hard thrust felt bruising, each time he held himself in her throat she whined low in her chest, uselessly begging for air. She couldn’t stop him, couldn’t fight him, and so as her head started to grow fuzzy, she relaxed and stopped struggling. It made it easier. It hurt less as he forced himself deep again and again, and he started to moan steadily above her. “Fuck, yes, now swallow.”

  Another thrust and he held himself all the way in, her nose pressed to his stomach as he came in jets. She swallowed as fast as she could, her lungs screaming for air, her nails digging into her arms so she wouldn’t try to shove him away. Finally, he pulled back and she felt the saliva running down her chin and chest as she gasped and coughed.

  “Good girl,” he crooned above her, and then the lights came up by a fraction. Enough to turn the pure black into a dull gray as she flinched and looked up at him. “Beautiful.”

  Heat flushed up her chest, scalding her cheeks, and she tore her eyes away from that tawny brown gaze. The lower half of his face was revealed, the mask pulled up to just above his lips. “Ple—” Her voice cracked as she tried to speak and she had to swallow. “Please leave the lights on?”

  He leaned down as soon as his pants were put together, holding her chin hard as he tugged the mask back down. “You want the lights?”

  With effort, she opened her eyes, meeting the furious intensity of his, and nodded against his grip.

  “All right. Only because you behaved and put on such a good show.” Grabbing the chain from beside her, he stood and walked towards the door. As he opened it wide, he paused and turned back towards her. “You know, I expected you to go for the door when I was chasing you. It was unlocked, but…” A shrug. “I think you actually like being my little whore, Rapunzel.”

  Standing up, she opened her mouth to shout at him, to curse him, but he lifted a remote in his hand and she froze. Not the darkness. Not again.

  “That’s right. Behave.” He chuckled, a low and ominous sound. “Sleep well, princess. I’ve got a video to send to daddy dearest.”

  Chapter Four

  The girl was awake again. Rebecca Sinclair, the darling daughter of the son of a bitch that deserved to die for all that he’d done.

  No, not die.

  Suffer.

  That was the entire reason he’d changed his focus to the girl. He’d spent years gathering data on the father, but the man’s heart lived in the beautiful blonde currently crying in the other room. His eyes flicked over to the camera, the angle changing every thirty seconds to show a new view of her curled up in the corner. He wanted her again, wanted to make her scream, wanted to hurt her in ways that would break the man.

  Not yet.

  Turning back to the computer screen, he forced himself not to watch her, not to stare at the curves he could still feel under his hands, to ignore the steadily growing hardness against his zipper. It had barely been five hours since the last video he’d made, but he knew it had been received. As soon as the file had started playing, Adam had received the alert.

  Now, he had to wait.

  The first set of videos he’d put together had gone unanswered, but the fucker hadn’t been stupid enough to call the police. He’d called his head of security instead, William Brown, but neither of them were smart enough to find him.

  They wouldn’t find the girl until he wanted them to find her. After she was broken down, crawling on her knees for him—hollowed out and empty.

  “Let’s see if you want your Rapunzel back when I’m done with her.” The seething anger was like a toxin in his blood, slowly eating away at him, and the only balm he’d found was in her sweet screams. The way her body bowed under his, the way she fought against him only to bend to his will again and again—it was perfect.

  The cell phone to his right started to ring, a chipper little sound, and he quickly verified that the routing program he’d written was still working. Picking up the headset that would distort his voice, he pressed the answer button and waited.

  “Hello?” Daniel Sinclair’s voice was exactly like it was on his television appearances, only a little… edgier. “Are you there, asshole?”

  “Oh, I’m here.”

  “Where the hell is my daughter?!” He was shouting now, and it made Adam smile slowly.

  “You mean your sweet, little Rapunzel?” There was a series of curses on the other end of the line, a rush of muffled speech from the security jackass giving him useless guidance.

  “I want proof of life.”

  “You want another video?” Adam taunted and chuckled when Sinclair started shouting again.

  “Don’t you dare touch her! You will release her immediately!”

  “That’s not how this is going to go, Sinclair. You’re going to do some things for me. If you obey, she won’t suffer… much. But if you—”

  “I’m not doing a thing for you, asshole. I’m going to find you, and I’m going to—”

  “You won’t find me, and you won’t find your darling daughter either, no matter what your security team is telling you. Not until you’ve followed every last request I have.”

  “Dammit! What do you want? Money? Out with it!” Sinclair’s desperation started to leach back into his voice, and the satisfaction was almost equal to the way he’d felt holding Rebecca down on the couch ju
st before he’d fucked her in the man’s house.

  “I don’t want your money. I want everything. First things first though, you own three subsidiaries based out of Hong Kong, Seoul, and Mumbai. You’re going to sell them.”

  “Are you insane?” The fucker was shouting again.

  “Maybe,” Adam conceded before he continued, “but that should concern you since I’ve got a particular blonde locked in a room just one door away. You have eight hours to sell them and return the documents as instructed. You’ll receive the offer packet by courier within the hour. Consider the five-hundred dollars restitution for what I’m doing to her.”

  “I’m not selling you my companies! I’m not doing anything for you! You will return Rebecca and—”

  Adam laughed, cutting off the idiot’s tirade. “Now you have four hours to respond.”

  “The board will never let me do this, you’re asking the impossible!”

  “Two hours, and if you haven’t responded by then I’ll send another video of Rapunzel.”

  “You don’t understand. I can’t do what you’re asking! Listen—”

  “Clock is ticking, Sinclair.” With the press of a button, the call ended and he leaned back in the chair, swiveling side to side before double-checking the program that had bounced the signal through so many digital gateways on so many continents that they’d never find the real source. With a swipe, he navigated to the timer and started it.

  Two hours and he could have her again.

  Glancing at the screen, he knew he should feed her, keep her strength up—but he wasn’t sure he could go in the room and not take her. When he’d turned the lights off, her fear had been palpable, and through the green tint he’d watched her panic as he had slowly turned each camera off. She had screamed so loud, begged so prettily, but he’d held off. Waited until her whispered pleas from the microphones were their own kind of music.

  Then, Sinclair’s first timeline had expired while the man had been busy fucking around with his security team instead of calling the number he’d provided.

  Not like Adam minded him missing the deadline.

  The tight grip of her throat had been glorious. The wet, choking sounds in the darkness better than he’d ever imagined. He’d wanted to chain her up, to take her again, but he still could. There was an endless list of things he could do to the pretty blonde, a thousand ways he could shatter her—and if Sinclair’s timeline ran out again, he’d just have to decide what came next.

  Rebecca filled the plastic cup with water again, drinking to ease the ache in her belly, but the sudden jolt of the lock on the door made her drop it. Water splashed on her legs as the cup bounced on the floor, and then the man filled the doorway once again.

  Tall, and broad, and terrifying.

  His bare chest stunned her, carved muscle leading down to the same dark pants and boots. There was no question in her mind where the strength in his limbs came from, because he would have resembled a Greek statue if his skin weren’t so tan. But for all the bared skin, for every shadowed curve of muscle, that damn mask was still in place leaving him an expressionless, foreboding wall of male aggression.

  “Against the wall,” he commanded and she pressed her back firmly to it, but he growled and snapped his fingers. Impatient. “Face the fucking wall, hands behind your back, and do not turn around.”

  With a shudder, she obeyed, turning and holding onto one wrist amidst the tangle of her long hair. There was movement, something soft and heavy dropping onto the floor and then being moved. The rattle of chain came next and she whimpered, fighting the urge to turn and see what it was. When the door slammed shut, she jumped, almost risking a glance before she heard him moving, accompanied by the metallic sound of heavy links scraping over the concrete.

  Eventually, his heavy footsteps came closer, stopping just behind her, and she tried to suppress the shiver of fear. “It seems your father doesn’t take me seriously. We’re closing in on a very important deadline and I haven’t heard a thing.”

  “Just give him more time, he just needs—”

  He ripped her head back by her hair, a gasp of pain escaping as he pulled her away from the wall and turned her so she could see the thin, bare mattress on the floor.

  No, no, no.

  “Didn’t I say I’d give you something to sleep on?” He shook her hard by her hair, the ache spreading across her scalp. “Say thank you.”

  “I don’t—” Her words were cut short as he threw her to the floor, and she barely caught herself on her hands before he dug his boot into her hip and knocked her to her side.

  “Say thank you, slut.”

  When she didn’t immediately respond, he reached for her, but she scrambled backwards. “Thank you! Okay? Thank you.” She faced him, trying to move back a little further as a tremor of fear raced up her back. “There. I said it, just please don’t—” When she held her hands out to stop him from advancing on her, he simply grabbed a wrist and started to drag her towards the mattress.

  “That didn’t sound very sincere,” he muttered as he hauled her behind him. Rebecca tried to stop him, tried to slow his advance, but her struggles were useless as he threw her down onto the dingy fabric.

  “I’m sorry! Just please—”

  “I don’t want to hear it, lay down.”

  Twisting at the waist, she caught sight of the cluster of chain at the top of the mattress and she tried to run, to throw herself off the thin, padded surface, but he caught her. His heavy body absorbed every flailing hit as she fought and scratched, ignored every screamed plea that tore at her voice.

  Useless.

  He overpowered her easily as he pinned her shoulders down, his thumbs digging furrows of rage above her collarbones. “What did I tell you about behaving?”

  “Let me up! Just STOP!” She recognized the threat in his tone, but she refused to go quietly. To relent and obey. He had already taken her throat, made her participate in this horror show, and she couldn’t do it again. Couldn’t face the shame. “Don’t do this! Please!”

  “You can thank Daddy for this, princess. Apparently he doesn’t love you as much as his precious company.” The words were like a punch to the stomach as he straddled her hips and forced her wrists down above her head. She sobbed and kicked, trying desperately to buck him off her—but all of it pointless. A waste of precious energy.

  Why wasn’t her father doing everything he could to save her?

  Where was he?

  The pile of chain above her head shifted and he released one of her hands to clasp the other into some kind of leather cuff. She inched her free hand down towards her chest, but he simply huffed and snagged it again, gripping it painfully as if he were silently chastising her. In a matter of moments he had both of her wrists bound in cuffs, tiny locks keeping them closed despite her desperate attempts to rip them open again. That masked face stared down at her, ominous and blank. “Your father is a selfish bastard, you know that?”

  “You don’t even know him!”

  “I know him better than you do.” The man growled as he tugged the two lengths of chain taut through the ring in the floor, clattering as he dug in a pocket, his abs stretched above her. Finally, he shifted and she watched as he linked them with a large padlock. When he let go, she realized she couldn’t lift up at all—held down as sure as if his hands were still on her.

  “Why are you doing this? What do you want?” She half-screamed the questions at him as he checked the lengths of chain to ensure she had no slack.

  “I want you to scream and beg. But don’t worry, princess, I’m going to make that happen soon.” Moving to one of her legs, he caught her foot when she tried to kick him, and the glare he gave her through the mask made her start crying. His punishments from before were still fresh, her throat still aching, and there was no way she could win against him—but she still hated herself as she let him wrap the cuff around her ankle. Locking it to the chain, he ran it through another ring on the floor before he secured it in pl
ace.

  And she let him.

  Passive as a sacrifice, doing her best to ignore how wide he spread her legs to repeat the process on the other ankle.

  The dim light of the room highlighted his toned arms as he worked, and she couldn’t figure out why he had taken the shirt off. It was cool in the room, the chill making her shiver when she wasn’t curled up, but there he was half-naked, hidden behind a mask, using another padlock on the last bit of chain. Clenching her eyes tight, she tried to block out the feeling of his eyes on her, the quiet buzz in her skin that anticipated his touch.

  Weak. Foolish. Helpless.

  “Why are you doing this? Please, just tell me why.” Her eyes opened to find him staring at her, that tawny brown gaze losing some of the predatory gleam now that his prey was secure.

  His fingers brushed over her leg almost reverently, his body stilling as he settled beside her on the thin mattress. “Because you’re the only weakness he has, Rapunzel.”

  “Stop calling me that!” she screamed, but with a quick movement he pinched her inner thigh hard and she yelped in pain.

  “You’re such a brat. A spoiled fucking brat.” He shook his head, looking back at the door before he turned that masked face towards her and sighed. “I would teach you a lesson if we weren’t waiting for your father to miss another deadline.”

  “No, no…” There were tears in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away, to summon some internal strength again. “You have to give him more time, you have—”

  “You know, Rapunzel, Daddy’s nickname for you actually fits very well. Your hair… so long, so blonde. No one has hair like this anymore.” His voice was a rumbling murmur as he talked over her, twirling a section of her hair around one finger, white gold against his tan skin. “Do you keep it long for him? Does it make him happy?”