The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales

by Zoe Blake

  “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 sight 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.

  Mr. Wolffe’s Little Red

  by Maggie Ryan

  A Little Red Riding Hood Story

  Regina Redd is a young professional woman during the week… and becomes Little Red when with her Dom/daddy, Drake Wolffe. On the day a red envelope arrives, the moment she lifts the embossed black seal, she knows the weekend ahead will require everything she has inside… her deepest desires will be met, her darkest needs fulfilled. You need not bring anything—everything you need shall be provided. Those are the words she reads… the ones that shall begin her journey. How will Master Wolffe guide his Little Red through this erotic, intimate journey to push her limits, to learn she can soar so much higher than she ever dreamed?

  Mr. Wolffe’s Little Red Warning:

  Be forewarned that within the dark, deep forest lies a cabin. The 'goodies' Little Red has gathered on her way will be used to remind her what happens when a little one is a naughty girl. This book contains the spanking of adult women, elements of age play including anal play, discipline delivered on a bare bottom and elsewhere, BDSM play and power exchange. Step over the threshold of that cabin at your own risk. While this twisted fairy tale is not all sugar and spice, I promise, Regina's very own big bad wolf will have your heart pounding and your panties dampening.

  Happy Reading!

  Maggie Ryan

  Excerpt from Mr. Wolffe’s Little Red

  “Finally, something that doesn’t look like boring correspondence for a change.”

  Regina looked up from her desk to see Glenda standing beside the m
etal cart she pushed around to deliver mail and the occasional package to any one of the employees occupying several floors of the building.

  “Hi, Glenda. What do you mean?”

  “Just this,” Glenda said, plucking something from one of the bins in the cart and waving it in the air. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  And it was. The deep red of the envelope was of a hue that had one thinking of the most beautiful rose, but it was the black wax seal that had been pressed against the flap that had Regina swallowing hard. The color did not bring a bouquet of roses to mind, but instead, had her tummy flipping, her heart pounding, her blood racing and, of course, her buttocks clenching. It took her a moment and hearing a very familiar word to snap her back to the present. Tearing her gaze from the envelope, she interrupted. “Wh… what did you say?”

  “I asked whose party you were invited to…”

  “No, I mean, what did you say just before that?”

  Glenda looked puzzled and then grinned. “Ah, you mean naughty? I was just saying it’s a bit naughty. If you ask me…” she looked around so as to reassure herself that no one was listening and leaned a little closer, “that fancy seal actually looks like someone’s ass.”

  Regina could feel her face go hot and prayed the woman thought hearing such a word in a professional environment was the cause of her blush. “I’m sure you’re mistaken,” she said.

  “Hmmm,” Glenda said, making it a point to give the back of the envelope a closer inspection. “Nope, pretty sure it’s a butt.” She giggled and continued, “And, since it is for my dear friend, you can tell me how I can wrangle my own invitation. If the party is anything like that naughty seal, it sounds positively wicked.”

  Not about to agree to that request, Regina shrugged. “Just drop it on my desk. Mr. Evans needs me to run these notes upstairs.”

  “What? Aren’t you the least bit curious? I mean, come on! How often does anyone get such a sexy piece of mail?”

  “It’s probably just some invitation to a fancy new restaurant opening,” Regina said, standing and gathering a pile of papers she’d been working on, shoving them into folders. “You know how it is. Send the critics and reviewers’ minions some sort of coupon for a meal they couldn’t possibly afford on their own in hopes that we will persuade the powers that be to give the restaurant or chef a rave review. It happens all the time. Remember that new grill… um, what was the name? Pig Trough? We all got to go eat for free and then we all wound up with food poisoning?”

  Glenda’s expression of expectation disappeared as she sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” She dropped the envelope onto Regina’s desk, added a few additional pieces of mail and then said, “Hey, a bunch of us are going out tonight. Can you come? It won’t be free but the tapas bar won’t send you to bed for the entire weekend either.”

  “Let me get back to you,” Regina said, already opening her desk’s top drawer and scooping the mail into it. “I’ve really got to get this stuff upstairs.”

  “All right, call me later,” Glenda said, giving a wave and pushing her cart, disappearing into the warren of cubicles that sat outside Regina’s office.

  Regina yanked open the drawer, grabbed the red envelope, shoved it beneath some of the folders she held and hurried towards the elevator. Stabbing a button on the panel, she tried to control her thoughts as she watched the numbers change above the doors. She dashed out before the doors were completely open, turned left and, after a quick glance around, opened a heavy steel door. Within minutes, she stepped out onto the roof, taking what seemed like her first breath in the last several minutes. She scurried around several large protrusions housing various equipment that had always reminded her of ugly warts. It didn’t help that they were painted a sickly looking green often used as make up for some evil witch. Regina slipped between two and out to her secret spot. Sinking down onto the overturned bucket she used as a chair, she closed her eyes and tried to convince herself that maybe she was wrong. Maybe the envelope really did contain some sort of coupon for a free meal or an invitation to a fancy party.

  “What restaurant have you ever heard of that uses an exact likeness of your ass for its logo?” she murmured, opening her eyes to look down at her lap. No... she knew exactly who had sent her the envelope. She was pretty sure it was some sort of invitation but also sure it wasn’t for a party… well, not the sort of party where a white, vest-wearing hare was ready to welcome guests down the proverbial rabbit hole. What she was suddenly very afraid to discover was exactly what sort of event she’d been invited to attend.

  Placing the folders on the ground beside her, she ran her fingertip across the front where her name was written in beautiful calligraphy. Miss Regina Redd. Not the politically correct Ms.—no, he was far too proper to lower himself to use a title he’d consider inappropriate. One was either a “Miss or a Mrs.” There was no in-between. Turning the envelope over, she felt her face heating anew as she gazed at the seal. She could remember the first time he’d shown it to her—her cheeks had flushed then as well. Knowing that he’d actually commissioned an artist to create a tool that, when pressed into hot wax, would replicate the very ass she was currently seated upon, had her finger shaking. Realizing that it was tapping against the seal as if… oh, God, spanking it, she jerked her finger away and with a final, hard swallow, she reached up to remove the antique hair pin helping to secure the mass of her curls in place, the auburn locks sliding down to cover her shoulders like a cape. Slipping the tip of the pin beneath the black wax, she gently lifted. The wax broke free of its hold, allowing the flap to loosen. Regina withdrew the heavy cardstock inside. It too was red, elegant and beautiful and yet, without reading the words, the black script was able to reduce her to a quivering mass of delighted anticipation as well as shuddering despair.

  My darling little Red,

  You do remember what happens to naughty little girls, don’t you? That’s right… they are required to make atonement for their naughtiness. When that naughtiness has been exceptional, the requirement moves to an entirely different level. Your attendance is required to discuss the progression from a simple chastisement to a much more, shall we say, involved punishment.

  At six o’clock this evening, Mr. Grimm will arrive to escort you to me. You need not pack. Everything you need will be provided.

  Prepare your mind to be ready to make your full confession. Prepare your heart to accept your discipline as you follow the instructions you’ll be given to begin our little tale.

  Any deviations from the rules will have additional consequences and, my naughty girl, as your current list will require a great deal to clear your slate, it would be in your best interest to follow every instruction to the letter.

  Until you kneel naked at my feet…

  All my love,

  Master W

  Yes, she knew what happened to naughty girls. They were punished… they were punished until they were very, very sorry for making bad choices; choices that she’d known were wrong but had hoped would go undetected. His instruction that she be ready to make a full confession had her mind scrambling, searching for each and every infraction of his rules… or even of his expectations. For some inexplicable reason, knowing she should be shaking in her boots, Regina found herself smiling instead. Her fingertip ran across his signature as if she could transfer her touch to his skin, her own flesh pebbling with tiny bumps as if already sensitizing itself for what she knew was coming. Returning the card back into the envelope, she tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. She’d slipped back into the narrow opening between the two pieces of equipment before remembering the folders. Returning, she bent over and as a sudden gust of wind lifted the back of her skirt, she froze. It was just a flash of memory and yet it was as vivid as if it were presently occurring.

  She’d been instructed to bend over, her arms locked around her legs, her cheek pressed to her knees. Her skin had flushed hot with shame when her Master had lowered her panties to her knees, her arousal evident on th
e gusset, her scent inhaled with each shaky breath she took knowing that the artist was seated behind her, sketching her… well, the portion of her that was totally bare and lifted high. Master W hadn’t hesitated to crack his favorite rattan cane across her quivering buttocks, chastising her for her slightest deviation from the required, humiliating position. Every time she saw the seal that had been created after that session, she remembered that day. For if one looked very closely at the impression in the black wax, they’d see not a heart as she’d tried to convince herself it resembled, but a heart-shaped bottom with the fine line depicting the wheal his cane stroke had raised on her right cheek. If that weren’t proof enough, the small birthmark at the crest of her left buttock, the one that he claimed meant that she’d never truly had a choice—that it was her fate, her destiny to belong solely to him—was also on the seal. Straightening, her hand reached back, not to rub at a painful welt as that had disappeared long ago, but to rub the spot that if one but lowered her panties the barest fraction of an inch, would show the head of a wolf lifted as if howling its dark depravity to the moon.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. Her mind was empty of all thoughts except the ones trying to anticipate what he had in store for her. She gave a shrill shriek when a weight landed on her shoulder.

  “Shit, Reggie, you scared me!”

  A hand pressed to her chest, Regina swiveled about in her chair. “I scared you? Glenda, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

  Glenda giggled, her face showing absolutely no remorse. “You should thank me. It looked like you were prepared to spend the entire night staring at that computer screen. Since you never called, I came back to see if…”