The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales

by Zoe Blake

  Enjoy,

  Jennifer Bene

  Chapter One

  Rebecca stretched as she walked across the empty apartment, the buzzing voices of the television keeping her company as she settled onto the couch. The shining white tile reflected the images moving across the screen, some sappy sweet romance movie had started while she’d been washing dishes.

  No thanks.

  Click. Cooking show. Click. Reality show. Click. Commercial. Click. Dad?

  The volume was too low to understand the chipper looking woman on the screen, but she turned it up fast. “… to attend. Software magnate Daniel Sinclair is showing his softer side this week as he opens the Sinclair Shelter for Women. While Mr. Sinclair is well known for his contributions to technology, he’s not often caught in the public eye, but he appeared today with his daughter Rebecca as they cut the ribbon to open this…” The voice on the screen faded in her ears as she watched the flashes of images. Her father cutting the ribbon, smiling and waving at the cameras, all blond hair and dimples – the perfect CEO. Then they were both waving, his arm around her waist – a picture perfect father and daughter.

  Her voice came over the surround sound speakers and she cringed, hating herself for agreeing to that damn interview. “Right. My father just wanted to, you know, do something to honor my mother’s legacy. I’m really just, uh, glad to be here for it. It’s nice.”

  Nice? You’re such a fucking idiot.

  The news mercifully switched back to her father, his vibrant voice filling the room for a minute as he walked the camera crew through a tour. The one and only Daniel Sinclair, practically perfect in every way.

  Perfectly poised, perfectly dressed, and perfectly happy to spend all his time at the office.

  She should have just gone skiing without him, invited a few friends and enjoyed herself – but no matter how childish it seemed, she missed him. Missed the days when it was just the two of them going for a run near the waterfront, or ordering Chinese and watching bad movies.

  And how many years had it been since that happened?

  ‘Too many’, she answered inside her head.

  As Rebecca sulked, taking a large drink of her wine, the reporter appeared in the frame again. “The facility is set to open in the next few weeks, and according to Mr. Sinclair’s representatives they are already in active communication with support organizations throughout the city. We can only hope others follow in his footsteps. Back to you, Tom!”

  When the news anchors took back over, she slid the volume back down a little and sighed. Tapping her phone, the display revealed 10:17 in bright numbers, and she contemplated texting him. To ask when, or if, he was coming home tonight, but that was ridiculous.

  She was twenty-four, not some kid.

  She shouldn’t even be living at home, hell, she shouldn’t be working for her father.

  But it makes him happy.

  Lying back on the couch, she tilted the wine glass back and forth, watching the pale chardonnay blur the skyline outside the floor to ceiling windows. The night sky was a black hole above the city, not a star in sight with all the light pollution. If she were smart, she’d move somewhere far away, somewhere she could wake up and walk outside without going down forty-two floors in an elevator. Out of the city. Somewhere she could be someone new. Being the daughter, and thus the charmed employee, of the head of Monarch Systems had some benefits – including the beautiful, spacious, two-floor penthouse that took up the top floors of The Tower – but it also meant that she spent her whole life here.

  She worked in The Tower, she slept in The Tower, and unless her friends begged her to go out, she never left. And, lately, even that was a rare occurrence.

  “You’re pathetic,” she growled and lifted the wineglass. Empty. With a sigh, she pushed herself off the couch and wandered back into the kitchen to refill. The stack of papers she’d printed out lurked underneath her laptop on the crisp dining table, tempting her to just bury herself in work.

  To be just like Daddy.

  It was what she’d always wanted. It was one of the few things that made him smile with pride. It was why she’d killed herself to get the business degree and the art history degree. Something she needed and something she loved, but only one of them was ever going to matter. After all, how was she going to shake off the dumb blonde perception of the board if she couldn’t speak their language? If she didn’t start showing them, she knew how the company was actually fucking doing?

  The memory of how she’d looked on the news flashed behind her eyes. The form-fitting royal blue dress, the tasteful jewelry, her long pale hair falling to her waist, that perfect Sinclair smile – she’d looked more like she was trying out for Miss America, not preparing to be the heir to one of the most successful companies on the East Coast. Fuck, she wouldn’t even take a girl like that seriously if they said they wanted to run Monarch Systems.

  Damn it all.

  “Let’s just drink until we can’t think. How does that sound, Rebecca?” Talking to herself, again, she grabbed the whole bottle of wine and headed back to the couch. Glass refilled, cold and biting as she swallowed, she zoned out on the newscast. Something about a shooting, police looking, blah blah blah. So much chaos in the world, so many angry people. As she took another sip, she heard the click of the door behind her and she smiled to herself.

  Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

  “Hey Dad,” she called over her shoulder. “I want to show you something, come in here before you run off to your office!” Pressing the rewind button on the remote so she could show him the news report, she set the wine down. The stupid DVR went too fast and she had to stop it and fast-forward, cursing under her breath. “They were just talking about the facility on the news. I looked like a complete idiot, but you did great. Hold on, I’ll show you. Did Patricia tell you this was airing tonight?”

  He didn’t answer her, but she clicked pause as soon as the image of the new building filled the screen. Was he on the phone and ignoring her again? Asshole.

  Turning to find her father, she caught a dark shape in her vision, too close, and then the sharp pull of someone’s fist in her hair made her gasp. Panic flooded her with an overdose of adrenaline and she kicked out, her foot colliding painfully with the coffee table, but she was caught. Her struggles only sent her wine crashing to the floor, and an instant later she was hauled over the back of the couch. Rebecca landed hard on the tile, but the adrenaline was now a live wire in her veins and she made it onto her knees, planning to run, when the hand returned to her hair. Air hissed between her teeth, a whimper rising up as the man tightened his grip and then forced her flat. A knee behind her shoulder blades pinning her painfully against the cold tile.

  “Let me go!” she screamed as soon as she caught a breath, her voice breaking, but there was no one to hear her in the empty building. No one is coming. Fight. Reaching back, she dug her nails into gloved hands, trying in vain to tear his grip free. A growl rumbled above her just before he cracked her forehead against the floor. Pain flashed like a firework behind her eyes, turning her stomach while she tried to protect her face. Her ears were ringing, and for a moment she was so stunned that she didn’t notice the jerking motions at her waist until she felt the cool tile on her lower belly.

  Oh God, he was taking off her pants.

  “NO!” Rebecca tried to push up from the tile, but he moved instantly and dropped his knee into her back again, crushing her until her ribs creaked. He was so heavy, too strong, and her fingers slid over the smooth tile finding no traction. Tears blurred her eyes as she whimpered, the sensation of his gloves brushing her thighs as he pushed the soft pajamas down making his motives all too clear.

  This couldn’t be happening. There was no way this was happening.

  It was a nightmare.

  Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

  When he grabbed for her ankle to pull off the pants, she kicked her legs, and his knee dug harder into her back, pain radiating up her spine a
s it became almost impossible to breathe. “You want to fight me?” The rough voice preceded a hard spank across her ass, and then there was another, and another. Merciless, hot, and stinging. “Go on then. Let’s see what you can do. Try and run, whore.”

  With a sharp tug, her pants were free of her legs, but then he was off her. Rebecca ripped air into her lungs, her ribs aching as she eased up onto her elbows. When he didn’t grab for her, she lunged forward, scrambling to her feet to run for the security system by the front door.

  Panic button.

  She needed to hit the panic button so someone would come. So someone would know what was happening. Six-minute response time, she could make it six minutes.

  Wait, why hadn’t it gone off?

  The red light was blinking on the front of the security panel, glowing confidently as if it were still armed, and she was barely five feet away when the full weight of the man slammed into her. The hard hit sent them both to the floor, bruising her knees as she caught herself on her hands. No! His arm wrapped across her throat, blood pounding behind her eyes as he began dragging her backwards—away from the panic button, away from the front door, away from escape. “That was pathetic,” he hissed against her ear. “All of you rich bitches are the same.”

  She couldn’t breathe, her lungs burning as she tried to claw at him, but his long sleeves were tucked into the gloves. Fight, dammit! She had to fight. Reaching behind out of desperation, she went for his eyes. Cloth. A mask. Before she could find the eyeholes he yanked his head back, and his grip on her throat tightened further, an oppressive blackness starting to creep in from the edges, her hearing fading like she was moving down a long tunnel.

  No. No. No. No.

  He twisted her suddenly and she found herself bent over the back of the couch with a fist in her long hair. For a moment she didn’t even care as air returned to her once again, her lungs starving for it, but then his knees were spreading her thighs. Rebecca choked on her first attempt to scream, reaching back to try and push him away. “Stop! Don’t! Please, don’t,” she begged hoarsely as she tried uselessly to bring her legs together.

  “Shut up, or I’m going to hurt you.” The harsh voice came again, and she froze as she felt the sharp metal of a knife trace over her waist. Shivers made her muscles jump involuntarily, fear plucking away inside as the slow scratch of the blade kept her still. With a nudge, he spread her further.

  “I –”

  “I said shut up.” There was a tug at the edge of her underwear, his fingers stretching the fabric, and then the tension gave way as he cut them off her. Tears burned her eyes, her heart still racing as she tried to catch her breath. Then she felt the draft of air between her thighs, cooling the wetness already gathered there.

  Why? Why was she wet?

  “Don’t do this, you don’t have to do this.” A hard jerk at the hold he had on her hair silenced her, and then she heard the sound of his zipper. “Please!” She whimpered the word, but he ignored the plea as he pushed her legs wide.

  The first swipe of his fingers along her pussy made her buck against the couch in an effort to escape, but the worst part of it wasn’t the all too gentle stroke at the juncture of her thighs—it was his low chuckle behind her. “Wet little whore, aren’t you?”

  “NO!” The shout tore from her throat as she tried to lift up, but he shoved her back down.

  “Tell me…” His cock brushed her next, the slick latex of a condom the only tiny comfort before he leaned over her, his voice growling, “What would your father think if he saw you now?”

  Heat bled into her cheeks, and she scrambled for leverage, but her toes were barely touching the floor. “Let me go, please, don’t—”

  “Shut up and listen. I’m going to take everything from him. I’m going to tear down everything he cares for, and I’m going to start with you. His sweet, little, Rapunzel.” The man snapped her head back by her long blonde hair, the childhood nickname sending a cold shiver down her spine. Fear thrummed through her as he brushed her pussy once more, and then he slammed inside her in one brutal thrust. It was a sharp, sudden stretch, and he bottomed out, longer and thicker than she’d expected. The man groaned low behind her as he withdrew and forced himself back in, sending a shudder through her insides as she whimpered.

  “Stop,” she begged, gritting her teeth as he began to viciously fuck her, his pace increasing with low grunts of effort. He ignored her cries as her body stretched to accommodate him, her mind a whirl of disbelief and shock. The invasion was inescapable, because no matter how she struggled there was no fighting the power of him. His hand was wound tightly in her hair, bowing her painfully, while his other hand pressed at the small of her back. It was only her fists clenched into the cushions that made her able to breathe as the ache inside started to pulse, her body gripping him involuntarily. “Stop…” she whispered.

  “You want me to stop?” He almost purred the words behind her, just before delivering another hard, deep thrust that opened her up further. “Say it.”

  “I want you to stop!” The cry was lost as he laughed low and craned her neck back harder. Pain spread through her back as she tried to lift herself up enough to ease it, a sob catching in her throat from the effort. He wasn’t going to stop. The realization settled inside her like a virus, worming its way through her conscious.

  Under the disbelief that it was happening, the raw dread of what would happen when he finished—she could feel the impossible tingling beginnings of pleasure. It was as if she had tumbled into her own personal hell, her body turning traitorous. Reaching back, she tried to stop the hard thrusts, to halt the rising rush, but he simply caught her wrist and used it as further leverage to pull her against him.

  “Take it, princess. You’re going to be my little whore.” Each brutal movement had her whimpering, her hips bruising against the back of the couch, and she tried to focus on that. Focus on the pain, the ache in her shoulder from how hard he pulled on her wrist, the pain in her neck and the fierce sting as he tightened his fist in her hair, anything but the heat coiling in her lower belly as his cock slammed against that bundle of nerves deep inside her over and over. “No one’s going to help you. You’re mine now.”

  Her pussy clenched tight, gripping him for a moment, and he growled behind her as she struggled to hold back, precariously walking a fine line of pleasure and pain. “Please,” she begged against the strain in her throat, her words lost amidst his harsh breaths.

  “Shut it! I’m going to destroy you, and I’m going to make your bastard of a father watch.”

  Watch? She fought harder against his hold on her, his fingers tightening painfully until her wrist sent sharp, white-hot pain up her arm and she stopped.

  He released her hair and she dropped her head forward in relief, but then he leaned forward to grab her other arm. The ratcheting sound of handcuffs gave her a surge of energy to fight again, and she managed to rip one of her hands free from his grip. His low growl was a warning, but she ignored it and tucked her free arm underneath her, shielding it as best she could. He pinned her hips against the couch, buried deep, and locked the first cuff a notch too tight. “Wrist. Now.”

  “Just let me go, please.” She kept her arm tucked protectively, mindlessly focused on keeping some pathetic semblance of freedom, but he leaned back and spanked her ass hard. Again, and again, and again. “PLEASE!” The fiery heat should have been only pain as she pleaded, but somehow it was merging with the thrumming pulse between her thighs and making it all worse. Making it all the more intense as he rocked his hips against her.

  With a growl, he reached forward, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of her upper arm, ripping it back like her fight didn’t mean a thing to his strength. The cuff locked fast, and then he held onto the chain between them as he started to fuck her again. She screamed and started to sob as the metal dug into her skin, his merciless thrusts increasing in pace until she was strung taut between the awful pain and hard pleasure.

 
“No, no, no…” She wasn’t sure who she was pleading with, him to stop, or her to hold back the orgasm she knew was floating just beyond some terrible horizon. The tingling waves of heat inside her took on a razor sharp quality, obliterating the fear until there were only her short pants of breath, her heart racing in her ears—and then she came. Flashes of light behind her eyes as she clenched them tight, her arms pulling at the cuffs, her body tensing under the onslaught of pleasure, and he laughed as he continued to slam into her.

  “Little whore,” he snarled and then she felt his cock kick as he thrust deep, the waves of her orgasm still squeezing him against her will. It was a cacophony of emotion, pain and fear and shame and disbelief, and as each tried to take control of her brain, they all faded into white noise. He stayed buried inside her, his gloved hand brushing over her ass and up the curve of her waist, but her body only twitched.

  Too much.

  As the chemical cocktail of her terror and her orgasm started to fade, nothing else rushed in to fill it. Numbness washed through her instead, neurons misfiring in a confused pattern, the white noise a steady buzz just inside her ears. When he finally slid from her, she stayed where she was, obscenely displayed over the couch, not budging an inch even when she heard him walk away across the tile.

  There was something wrong with her.

  She shouldn’t have come.

  She should be screaming.

  She should have fought harder.

  Turning her face against the cushions, she felt the tears on her cheeks cooling in the air, but she couldn’t think straight. All she had were broken, unfinished thoughts.

  As his footsteps returned, heavy thumps of boots on tile, she didn’t even flinch. She barely twitched when he slid two fingers inside her, pumping them slowly. Then a third finger forced its way in, the sore ache of her pussy a quiet flash in her mind, and then the sharp stick of a needle made her jump a little. “That’s right, princess. You’re going to do everything I say.”