by Selena Kitt
“He won’t.” She said it defiantly, although she knew it wasn’t true. “He hardly knows me.”
“Oh he will,” Hook disagreed. “I’ve never seen him take to someone like I’ve seen him take to you.”
Wendy went quiet. She knew it, even before she said it. “You lied to me.”
“He didn’t pick you for your brains, did he?” He laughed, shaking his dark head in the moonlight. “At least you’re catching on.”
“What do you want from Peter?” She was slowly working on the duct tape wrapped around her wrists. She was wet from the struggle from boat to pole and she was sweaty, the swamp air heavy and thick, making the tape nice and moist.
Hook snorted. “You want the story?”
“Yes.” She wondered what she would do when she was free. Jump into the water? The Florida Everglades wasn’t exactly the best place to go for a swim. She could hear the call of alligators in the distance.
“I suppose we can spend our time talking until your knight in shining armor arrives.” Hook stepped off the boat, which he’d anchored to the pole, onto her little island. There was hardly enough room for the two of them and he pressed himself against her in the darkness. “Although I did have some other things in mind. Things that would really, really bother your boyfriend.”
He used the knife in his hand to slit the shoulder of her dress in one swift motion. She hadn’t realized the blade had touched her until she looked down, seeing her skin like silver in the moonlight, a dark line of blood running toward her nipple. The sight of it made her feel faint.
“You promised!” she reminded him, desperate.
“I make lots of promises.” He leaned in and licked at her shoulder and she realized he was tasting her blood. She shuddered, horrified. What kind of man was this? “But I don’t keep them.”
“How will Peter know where to find us?” She tried to distract him. Clearly he wanted Peter to come after her, although to what end, she couldn’t begin to imagine. “How could he possibly find this place in the dark?”
“He could find it blindfolded.” Hook chuckled, his knife blade sliding under the other shoulder of her dress. She winced, feeling a sting, knowing he’s once again cut her flesh. “He used to live here.”
“Here?” She was too shocked by his words to register the pain, staring at the broken-down shack in the distance. There was nothing else up and down the swamp that she could see, no other lights. “When?”
“Poor little orphaned Peter.” Hook drove the knife into the wood above her head and took a step back—as far as he could go without falling into the water, and looked down at her breasts. “He needed so much looking after.”
“What did you do?” She stared at him, and would have kicked him in the groin and sent him flying into the swamp if her feet hadn’t been secured to the post with duct tape as well.
“He was a good trained monkey. For a little while.” Hook grabbed her breast, squeezing, fondling, assessing, his face impassive. “And he learned the trade well enough. All the boys did.”
“What trade?” she asked breathlessly, ignoring his groping hand and working her own behind her back, hoping for a break.
“The oldest profession in the world.”
“You… sold them? As prostitutes?” Her twisting and turning stopped. “You’re nothing more than a pimp!”
“And you, my dear, are a whore.” He twisted her nipple, making her scream in pain. “You’ll make a fine profit for me too.”
No! Her mind screamed even louder, faced once again with a man who wanted to use her for his own pleasure and profit. No! She wouldn’t do it, not again, not ever again.
“Peter got the best of you, didn’t he?” She spoke the words softly but clearly. “He beat you.”
“He won a little battle.” Hook sneered. “But he hasn’t won the war.”
“He did win,” she insisted. “He’s done just fine without you.”
“Fucking bitch,” he spat, pressing her up against the pole, the splintered wood biting her bare back. “So Peter took my boys and my money. So it’s taken me five years to find him. Now it’s time to settle the score.”
Five years. My god, how old was Peter when he left, Wendy wondered. Thirteen? How long had this man forced him to prostitute himself…?
“It was you on the phone with Tink.” Her realization made her stomach drop to her knees. He had found them—and Tink had tried to warn Peter. Over and over, Tink had tried to tell him. She’d even tried to stop Wendy from leaving with Hook.
“Got a little tip from a client.” Hook grinned and she gasped, feeling him fumbling with the belt on his pants, knowing what was coming. “Music guy—talking about some new group, The Lost Boys, and their charismatic lead singer, Peter Pann.”
“No,” Wendy whispered, but his hand was under her dress, groping her between the legs.
“I never thought he’d settle so close to the old homestead,” Hook mused, his fingers parting her roughly. “Oh stop that whining. I’ve got to fuck you to make it real. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
“Please,” she begged, trying to make herself smaller against the pole.
“Cap’n?” The voice called across the water and they both looked into the swampy darkness. The light from a flashlight bobbed along the shoreline.
“Smede!” Hook called. “Get in the house!”
“But I want to play with the girl!” came a plaintive protest.
“Later!” Hook called, his voice dropped as he looked at Wendy, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “I’m going to play first.”
“Cap’n?” Smede called again.
“Go!” Hook roared and the light bobbed again, heading back toward the house.
“Why does he call you captain?” Wendy asked, hoping to distract him. She heard a splash in the water behind them and hoped it wasn’t an alligator. And then, when his cock was stiff against her belly, pressing her against the pole, she hoped it was.
“Because I’m the captain and they’re my obedient crew.” His breath was hot, rancid, and she turned her face away, feeling his fingers probing between her legs, looking for an entrance. It wasn’t going to be easy, given her position. He could hardly spread her legs, but she had a feeling he was going to manage, even if he ripped her to shreds.
If he puts that in me, I’m going to kill myself. Or him. Whichever I can manage to do first.
“Damn, you’re tight,” he remarked, his fingers working their way in, making her cry out in pain. “Gotta fuck you up a little more. Make you really pathetic. It’ll make him crazy to see you like that.”
“Get your hands off me.” Wendy’s words had so much weight behind them Hook actually stopped, looking down at her.
“What did you say?” He blinked at her, bemused. She knew he was getting ready to hit her. She knew that look on any man’s face well enough.
“She said, get your fucking hands off her.” Tink’s arms came out from behind Wendy as if they were her own, knocking Hook back into the water. He sputtered and flailed, and Wendy glanced behind her as Tink grabbed the knife out of the wood and quickly cut the rope tying the boat to the island, pushing it adrift. Then she bent to saw through her duct tape binding.
“Thank you,” Wendy managed, trying to cover herself as Tink worked the duct tape at her feet.
“You bitch!” Hook was still flailing, reaching for the little island, but Tink had pushed him very hard and his movements had driven him further away. The boat was drifting in the opposite direction. “I can’t fucking swim! Smede! Smede!”
Hook bellowed and splashed and both women stared at the spectacle, clinging to each other to stay balanced in the small space. Wendy was shivering, from cold and fear, and she let Tink hold her, the woman’s breasts a wonderful pillow, a respite from reality. They were both wet and their body heat served to keep them warm.
“Now what?” Wendy wondered out loud, seeing a flashlight beam moving toward them from the house.
“Th
e cavalry has arrived.” Tink looked upstream and Wendy heard it—the sound of a boat motor. But would they be here in time? And did Smede have a gun? The thought made her even colder and she clung to Tink, trembling. “It’s okay, Wendy. You’re okay.”
“Smede!” Hook’s cries were growing fainter, his motions slowing. “Help! Help!”
They both heard the splash and Hook’s cut-off cry. “I’m going to—”
“Cap’n?” Smede had shown up at the water’s edge just in time to shine the light on Hook and see the rising reptilian head, the massive jaws snapping open and shut over the man’s head. Wendy screamed and turned her face against Tink’s not unconsiderable bosom, but the sound of the death roll splashing echoed through the swamp.
“Wendy!” Peter’s voice called her back as the boat slid up beside them. “Wendy, are you all right?”
She looked down at herself, muddy and bleeding and half-naked, and then up to the woman holding onto her. “Thanks to Tink, yes. I’m fine.”
“Thanks, Tink.” Peter smiled as he helped them both into the boat.
“Cap’n!” Smede was still calling, his voice choked, the flashlight searching the dark, stagnant water.
“What happened?” Nibs asked, putting a blanket around Wendy’s shoulders. Curly offered one to Tink.
Tink grinned, wrapping the blanket around her as Peter turned the boat. “Crocodile got him.”
“Poor Smede.” Peter handed the controls over to Curly, letting him steer as he gathered Wendy in his arms. “He was always dumber than a doorknob. I couldn’t even get him to come with me.”
“I’m sorry,” Wendy choked, trying to apologize for everything at once—for not trusting him, for going with Hook, for what had happened to Peter as a child. And he’d said she had an unhappy childhood?
“No apologies, Wendy-girl.” He kissed her forehead, smiling over at Tink, who wasn’t glaring anymore. In fact, she was smiling, an expression Wendy had rarely ever seen on the woman’s face. “We’re all a happy family now.”
“Is it true?” Wendy asked, looking up at him, his face pale in the moonlight. “Did you steal his money and escape with all the boys?”
“It was our money.” Peter’s jaw tightened, and so did his arms around her. “And yes, I took it. And the boys. And we made a new life for ourselves.”
She shook her head in wonder. “How?”
“Thank god for E-Trade,” Curly remarked with a laugh, guiding the boat through the water.
“Turned Hook’s money—” Nibs started.
Peter reminded him harshly. “Our hard-earned money.”
“Yeah,” Nibs agreed. “Turned it into over a million dollars in five years.”
“Don’t forget my venture into the rare book trade,” Peter reminded him. “That’s netted us quite a pretty penny.”
Wendy remembered the book Peter had been looking for on the day she met him, the walls of bookshelves lining every room in the house.
Tink took the blanket Nibs offered her, putting it around her shoulders. “Of course, Peter just kept collecting lost boys. And me.”
“Aw Tink, you’re still my go-to girl,” Peter said, nudging her with one of his Keds. “Always will be. You know that.”
“And me?” Wendy inquired, leaning back against him.
“You’re my forever Wendy-Girl, of course.” Peter smiled down at her, making her heart leap in her chest. She was his, and he was hers, and the future stretched out before them both, obliterating a terrible past. “I think it’s time for our happy ending, don’t you?”
Yes, Wendy thought, settling even more deeply into Peter’s warm embrace.
Yes, it is.
ABOUT SELENA KITT
Like any feline, Selena Kitt loves the things that make her purr-and wants nothing more than to make others purr right along with her! Pleasure is her middle name, whether it’s a short cat nap stretched out in the sun or a long kitty bath. She makes it a priority to explore all the delightful distractions she can find, and follow her vivid and often racy imagination wherever it wants to lead her.
Her writing embodies everything from the spicy to the scandalous, but watch out-this kitty also has sharp claws and her stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths.
When she’s not pawing away at her keyboard, Selena runs an innovative publishing company (www.excessica.com) and in her spare time, she devotes herself to her family—a husband and four children—and her growing organic garden. She also loves bellydancing and photography.
Her books EcoErotica (2009), The Real Mother Goose (2010) and Heidi and the Kaiser (2011) were all Epic Award Finalists. Her only gay male romance, Second Chance, won the Epic Award in Erotica in 2011. Her story, Connections, was one of the runners-up for the 2006 Rauxa Prize, given annually to an erotic short story of “exceptional literary quality,” out of over 1,000 nominees, where awards are judged by a select jury and all entries are read “blind” (without author’s name available.)
She can be reached on her website at www.selenakitt.com
If you enjoyed MODERN WICKED FAIRY TALES: COMPLETE COLLECTION,
you might also enjoy:
THE REAL MOTHER GOOSE
By Selena Kitt
Settle yourself in for a wicked bed time story, a hot, wild ride through nursery rhymes like you've never heard them before. Set in a fantastical world where the privileged few own and raise sex slaves like beloved pets, Mother herself is the star of the show, wielding a riding crop and taking care of and training her young charges with a firm and skillful hand. But where has Father Goose wandered off to, and who will take Mother in hand when she ventures too far?
2010 EPIC EBOOK AWARD FINALIST
"Selena Kitt puts an amazingly unique and hot twist on the key players from the well-known nursery rhymes. Many of the scenes definitely made me pause in admiration at her ingenuity. I refuse to spoil it for anyone interested in reading this book by going into more detail. The author worked too hard to offer a salacious spread of inventive sex and characters. There is no way I will reveal the erotic goodies and wildly titillating scenes she has so painstakingly transcribed in this raunchy, racy fantasy. There are a couple of plot twists and turns that will leave you with your mouth hanging wide open in surprise. Voracious reader that I am, I certainly didn't anticipate one shocker in particular and I'm the first to admit it was refreshingly creative. Batten down the hatches because The Real Mother Goose runs riot and I guarantee you'll be swept away on a tempest of passion! The inspiration might be from nursery rhymes but it's certainly not for anyone under age 18. There are loads of familiar faces from all the various rhymes in a variety of X-rated scenarios that will astonish and delight you."
-Patrice, Joyfully Reviewed
"Erotic author, Selena Kitt has won a new fan in me. The Real Mother Goose gives a whole new meaning to bedtime stories. These are stories you should read either with your boyfriend, husband, lover or by yourself. Selena really knows how to get the heart racing. If I wore glasses, I would have had to keep wiping them off from the steam. I did like how this book smoothly went from one story to the next but incorporating characters from prior rhymes that would lead up to the next story. I plan to check out more good reads by this author."
-Cheryl, Manic Readers Reviews, 4.5/5 STARS!
EXCERPT from THE REAL MOTHER GOOSE:
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep
And can't tell where to find them.
Leave them alone,
And they'll come home,
Wagging their tails behind them.
"Peep!" The voice shook the room and the startled girl looked up as Mother came in. "Do you know where your sheep are now?"
"No, Mother." The girl looked up from her position, kneeling on the floor, her blue eyes wide. "I penned them before I left, I swear it."
Mother Goose came toward her, the high heels of her soft boots clicking on the floor. She squatted down before Peep, whose hands
were bound behind her to her feet with pink satin sashes.
"You are a pretty little one." Mother lifted the girl's chin and studied her face, her gaze moving over the girl's body, the pink and white corset drawn tight, her blonde curls spilling over her shoulders, partially hiding Peep's rosy little nipples. "Sometimes I think you're just playing dumb."
"No, Mother," Peep implored, shaking her head. "I penned them. I promise you."
"Is that so?" Mother stood. Peep looked up Mother's long legs, encased in black fishnet stockings and garters, the dark triangle between her legs exposed, as it always was, for easy access.
Mother had taken to wearing black since Father had crossed over, and her mood was ever changeable, but lately she seemed often cross and hard to please. Mother tapped her toe in front of Peep's knee, folding her arms over her ample breasts, pushed up high in her black corset, but covered with the sheer, lace peignoir she always wore, unbuttoned to the floor.
"Mother, please," Peep pleaded. "I will go tend them, if you let me."
Mother walked over to the cabinet and the girl moaned, the sound caught halfway between regret and anticipation. "I think we need a little correction, don't you?" Mother's voice drifted over her shoulder as she chose a small cat o'nine tails from her collection.
"Please," Peep pleaded again, her eyes downcast. "I'll be a good girl."
"Yes," Mother murmured, coming to caress the her cheek with her soft hand. "You will."
Mother reached behind the girl and began untying the pink satin ribbon binding her. Peep sighed in relief, rolling her tired shoulders once her arms were free. She leaned forward onto her hands and knees as Mother began to untie her feet, but then the older woman stopped.
"No ... this is good." Mother tightened the sashes at the girl's ankles, chuckling. "Turn around, Little Bo Peep who's lost her sheep, and doesn't know where to find them."
Peep did as she was told, turning her face toward the wall on her hands and knees, using her hands to slowly work herself around. She felt Mother's hand caressing her ass, and she shivered, looking back over her shoulder at the older woman. Mother squatted down behind her, beginning to drip the many straps of the cat o'nine tails over Peep's behind like a little leather waterfall.