Adventures in Sugarland

by M J Marstens

  ADVENTURES IN SUGARLAND

  MJ Marstens

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright © 2019 M.J. Marstens

  Dedication

  Map

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Afterword

  EXCERPT from IMPRISMED

  Copyright © 2019 M.J. Marstens

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  M.J. Marstens asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  M.J. Marstens has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any productor vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  Cover design by M.J. Marstens

  Edited by Kathy Landis; Whimsicalworks4u and Bookish Dreams Editing

  Formatted by Rozie Marshall

  This book is intended for readers 18+.

  DEDICATION

  To Heather and her sexy ass. I can’t wait to get my hands on it. AHAHA, I can’t wait for everyone to read this dedication and think WTF. Or maybe they’re thinking WTWM. Wish that was me. Whenever I think of daddies, kink, and naughtiness in general, I think of you; so, I dedicate this filthy story all to you. I love your face.

  Sincerely,

  Your S.T.

  TWO YEARS AGO

  Once upon a time, there was a man and a woman living in The Savory Citadel. Both had lost their spouses and had decided to marry, blending together their families. The man brought with him a son and the woman, a daughter. Sadly, the man and woman caught the Curdling Plague and passed, leaving the son and daughter parentless. Luckily, the son’s uncle was the ruler of The Savory Citadel, and King Umami took in the two children as royal wards.

  The children were the best of friends and loved exploring. When they reached adulthood, King Umami charged them with the difficult task of forging an alliance between The Savory Citadel and Sugarland. What made the task so dangerous was the lands that lay between the two kingdoms. Wrought with untold perils and unspeakable creatures, very few people were courageous enough to brave the journey.

  Except for the royal wards.

  King Umami gave them a map and a special bag of pebbles. As long as the king’s nephew dropped the rocks every so often, they would embed in the ground and make a permanent path to The Savory Citadel. Now Royal Ambassadors, the boy and girl set off on their trip. All was well as the two traversed through the Sour Swamp and into the Embittered Forest. That is, until an Acrid buzzard flew down and snatched their map. Soon, a whole flock of buzzards was pecking and clawing at the piece of paper until it was torn to shreds.

  Worried, the two decided to turn back, only to find their pebble path missing. A strange and skeletal youth lay nearby, his belly bulging peculiarly in contrast to his scrawny appearance. When the king’s nephew asked the youth what happened to their pebble path, he just laughed.

  “I made stone soup,” was all the youth offered.

  “Those stones were magical; how did you pick them up?” the king’s nephew demanded.

  “Magic is only as powerful as the intention. My hunger was stronger than your need for a path of rocks. Now, I am nice and full.” The youth patted his grotesquely distended stomach and promptly fell asleep.

  “What are we going to do now?” the stepsister asked her brother.

  “We’re going to find our way back home to The Savory Citadel.”

  Unfortunately, the king’s new Royal Ambassadors only became more lost within the Embittered Forest. With night descending, they knew it was crucial to find shelter. Just when they were about to lose all hope, a gleaming light pierced the shadowy gloom of the trees. Encouraged, the boy and girl raced towards the welcoming glow to find a quaint, little gingerbread house strung with cheerful lights. On the porch, a beautiful woman with long, cherry-red hair and exotic purplish-brown eyes sat, seemingly waiting.

  “Welcome, my dears. Looking for a place to stay?” she asked in a matronly voice that belied the voluptuous curves of her body.

  “Yes,” the king’s nephew responded. “We’re lost and need a place to stay for the night.”

  “Of course, my dearies. Come in, come in!”

  The king’s nephew took his stepsister’s hand, squeezed it reassuringly, and led her into the candied house. Just as the two passed through the icing-encased front door, the woman slammed it shut and snapped a magical collar around their throats.

  “Perfect,” she purred, tugging on the leash attached to the collars.

  Both the boy and the girl stumbled on their feet, but the woman was not finished. Not until she had dragged them to a dungeon in the basement and chained them up, was she satisfied.

  “Why are you doing this?” the king’s nephew yelled at the evil woman.

  “Because I can,” she taunted, before slapping the young man right across his face. “What are your names?”

  Neither the boy or the girl answered and again, the woman smacked the boy.

  “I will not ask twice.”

  “Hansel and Gretel,” the king’s nephew lied.

  “Tell me, sweet Hansel, are you and Gretel siblings?”

  “Yes,” he gritted out hatefully.

  The beautiful woman clapped her hands together delightedly.

  “Oh, what fun we’re going to have!”

  And so began two years of imprisonment by the lovely witch. She made Hansel and Gretel into her personal sex slaves. The two later learned that the house was a brothel of sorts that catered to the forest’s darker needs; whips and ropes, choking hands, bleeding backs, and anything else their Mistress demanded of them. Some days the stepsister hated her existence, whiles others, she reveled in the corrupt cesspool of pain and pleasure. But she and the king’s nephew never stopped plotting their escape. Someday, they would be free.

  And the witch would pay.

  GRAHAM
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br />   I’m so fucking hard; I could explode into a million pieces if only she would let me. But I know she won’t. That bitch is as acrimonious as her name implies: Mari, the bitter one. Our mistress gains untold pleasure from making me suffer, but not nearly as much as she derives from making Anise suffer. Tonight, she is feasting on Anise’s sweet, little cunt like it’s her last meal. She licks and laps until Anise is trembling with impending orgasm and then stops. She mounts me until she gets off and then goes back to torturing my stepsister.

  I ought to shoot my load into her unholy hole to teach her a lesson, but I’ve accidentally done that before. It was a most unpleasant week for me. For now, I just need to keep my mouth shut. We’re so close to finally getting out of here, I’m not going to ruin our chances, even though it’s killing me. As a natural dom, it goes against my nature to have this woman control me. Anise, on the other hand, is submissive to a lovely fault. I know her time here has fucked with her head more than it should, for her to love something while simultaneously hating it.

  I know what Anise is experiencing.

  That’s how I feel about us being siblings.

  I love it, but I fucking hate it.

  Because your stepbrother shouldn’t want to fuck you.

  But I do.

  I want to fuck Anise so badly my balls ache with the thought.

  That first night we arrived, Mari chained us up, but soon returned with a strange man wearing nothing but leather strips and a ball gag in his mouth. He carried a wooden X and set it down in the room before going over to Anise and chaining her to it. Then, Mari disrobed herself and my sweet stepsister and Mari proceeded to fuck Anise with her fist.

  I’ll never forget my stepsister’s cries of pain as Mari took her virginity and later, her cries of pleasure as she came for the evil woman. I remember holding Anise for days afterward, consoling her in her guilt, but never assuaging my own. Watching that scene that night merely opened the can of worms I had tried to keep tightly shut. But there is no denying it, I want to fuck Anise almost as badly as I want to kill Mari.

  Living here these past two years has done much to open my eyes to the sexual depravities that go on behind closed doors. Most of everything is not consensual, as Mari traps and collars any wanders that come to her door because she knows no one is searching for us in the Embittered Forest. We’re already assumed dead. I feel terrible for the other men and women locked up here against their will, but I have only one person I’m trying to protect and get out of here: Anise.

  I don’t know how much longer she can take the continued split in her emotions: ecstatic, yet ashamed. If I can free us, I can prove to her that she has nothing to feel guilty over. Me, on the other hand, I have a lot more to be culpable about. Like thinking of Anise’s purple eyes going wide and her mouth going slack after Mari makes her finger herself and come. For imagining how Anise’s two long and dark braids would be perfect to grab onto as I rail her from behind, or how my dick would feel encased in her tight, wet pussy.

  Too late, I realize where my thoughts have wandered and there’s no stopping my orgasm this time when Mari mounts me. She barely bounces up and down on my dick, and I flood her cunt with my jizz, groaning in ecstasy. Mari gets off me with a look of absolute fury, my cum dripping down the insides of her pale thighs. Not only had I disobeyed her order, but I inadvertently denied “my Mistress” her pleasure.

  I apologize profusely, complimenting her full breasts and plump ass in my hope to be punished less, but it doesn’t work. The fury in her eyes is palpable. I watch her walk over to the wall and grab a riding crop. My back has barely healed from the last time she used it on me. I close my eyes and bow my head, praying Anise doesn’t look. I hear the whistle of the crop as it whips through the air, and I cringe when I feel the blow.

  Except, Mari doesn’t hit me.

  A shrill scream pierces the air and I rip my eyes open to see Mari rearing back and Anise trembling underneath her, a thin bloody welt running across her upper thighs and groin. Please no, I think, not my Anise; but Mari doesn’t hesitate as she looks deeply into my eyes and whacks the riding crop down upon my stepsister again, crisscrossing the wound already there. Three, four, five times more and suddenly, I’m done. I stand up and run towards Mari. In my fury, I yank the magical chains clean out of the wall.

  Not expecting this, I crash into the vicious woman and knock her to the ground, her head colliding with the floor. Instantly, the bitch is knocked unconscious. The room becomes quiet, except for my erratic breathing and Anise’s soft sobs. I lift myself off Mari and feel an anger rise from my very depths. Unconsciously, I wrap my hands around her pale, elegant throat, and squeeze. Untold joy floods through me as I slowly suffocate the witch. I’m blinded to anything and everything else until a hiccup from Anise brings me back to my surroundings.

  I drop Mari as if she’s burned me and scramble away. Already, the delicate column of her neck is purpling with bruises. I resist the urge to kick her in my disgust, and instead, turn to Anise. Naked, trembling, and in shock Anise. Quickly, I go over to Mari’s cabinet where I know she stores her potions. I’ve watched her often enough to know which ones are which. I grab the light yellow balm and rush back to my stepsister.

  With the gentlest of touches, I rub the soothing cream over her abused and bleeding flesh. Anise is barely breathing at this point and my hands tremble in panic. I slather more balm over her wounds and wait. One minute. Two minutes. By the third minute, I can no longer see the rise and fall of Anise’s chest and I worry I’ve accidentally poisoned my beloved sister. I turn back to Mari, my fury renewed.

  Just as I’m about to leap on the sleeping woman, Anise makes a sound. I whirl around to find the welts from the riding crop gone, the flesh glowing with health once more. I stumble toward my stepsister and swing her into my arms, relishing finally being able to hold her after two long years. Who knows how long we stand there like this, but I finally rouse enough to use my common sense.

  “We must leave. Quickly,” I tell her.

  I take her hand and begin to drag her to the dungeon door, but she stops me.

  She whimpers something garbled and rushes back into the room.

  Grabbing a bag that Mari uses to carry things to and from the basement, Anise walks over to the open cabinet of potions and puts all of them into the sack. The glass vials make soft tinkling sounds as they rub against one another. I realize I’m not the only one who has been watching Mari and her movements over the last two years. Anise, too, has kept a keen eye on the woman and her doings. I nod at my stepsister encouragingly and then take her hand again.

  Cautiously, we exit the dungeon. I feel Anise tremble as we climb the stairs and it hits me that this is the first time she’s been up them since our capture. While Mari was happy to whore me out to vile creatures of the forest, she kept Anise under lock and key. Mari’s own ‘special pet’. Slowly and quietly we creep up the stairs, with me navigating the way. No one tries to stop us; Mari has no need for guards. She has something better.

  Wards.

  But I remember the hungry youth from that fateful day. The one who ate all our magical stones. He said something that will stay with me for a lifetime: magic is only as powerful as the intention. Until tonight, when I broke through Mari’s enchanted chains did I realize this. For two years, both Anise and I have thought ourselves powerless to the greedy whore witch. It wasn’t until tonight, seeing Mari abuse Anise in such a reprehensible manner, that my motivation overrode the magic and undid it.

  While Mari was cruel to Anise, she never beat her.

  No, she preferred me to take the brunt of her violent pleasure; which I was all too happy to do if it meant sparing Anise.

  Now that my mind is not hindered by my fear and powerlessness, I know I can override Mari’s magic. I let my intention, my desperate need to be gone from this hellhole, guide me as I turn the handle of the door. It flares red briefly, before turning over and opening. At last, we are free. I look over at Anise and
see the same disbelieving relief shining in her gorgeous purple eyes. Together, naked and shaken to our cores, we step into the hushed night of the forest.

  “This way,” I tell Anise, taking her hand.

  I’m working on pure instinct and what little I can recall of the map, but I head north. The night is chilly, yet Anise makes no complaints. Like me, she is still too numb to feel anything. We walk for an hour, our bones aching from having moved so little over the last twenty-four months, but eventually, the dead trees become sparser and sparser. And then we are finally out of the Embittered Forest, only to be met with the Briny Divide.

  I shiver.

  It’s either we cross this salty impasse or turn back, but I know our odds of becoming lost and caught again are greater in the forest. No, we must push forward, now on a treacherous quest for our lives. Treacherous because we’re damned if we do; damned if we don’t. Heading back is out of the question, but going forward is equally disheartening.

  The Briny Divide is a deep canyon, cut by the River of Tears; aptly named for all the souls who have cried on their way down to their deaths. Only one bridge spans the mile-long chasm. One old, rickety, and charred rope ladder bridge. And therein lies the other problem: brackishes.

  Hellish monsters who can fly and breathe fire; these creatures live and nest in the Briny Divide. Terribly territorial, with a keen sense of smell, they will smite anyone who dares to cross their land. Hence the charred rope bridge and the numerous people who fall, burning, to their deaths. brackishes are also the only animals who can withstand and survive off the water from the river below.

  Honestly, it’s a fifty-fifty chance the bridge breaks, even if we do make it onto the rickety thing undetected by the brackishes. But what other choice do we have? I know if we can get across, we will be in Sugarland. We can claim amnesty from Mari and find King Kandine to establish the treaty for my uncle, King Umami. Only then can we return to The Savory Citadel. I squeeze Anise’s hand as I lead her to the inky blackness of the canyon’s mouth. It’s like a black hole waiting to swallow us, but there’s no turning back.