The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(100)
Hunter’s Ridge Box Set
Hero to Obey
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Goldi in Chains
A Goldilocks Story
Maren Smith
Goldi in Chains Warning:
Three vengeful shifters... one thieving burglar caught red-handed... Beware! The following story contains serious caning, bondage, and all the anal and sexual punishment that ought to occur when someone is reckless enough to get caught in a were-bear's dungeon. When too big meets too hot, it's always just right.
Maren Smith
Chapter One
She was an independent career woman with a penchant for the seamy underside of life. But then, she was Goldi, and she didn’t mind that. She had always walked her own path.
Lockpicks in hand, Goldi moved through the cool forest shadows. The assorted pick sizes jingled as she twirled the ring of them around her finger—flip, catch… flip, catch—and beneath her feet, crisp pine needles and brush twigs crunched softly as she slipped through the trees.
It was a remote house, the directions certainly were right about that. Not a mansion by any means, but far from a hovel and hidden well back amongst the old forest cedars that blended damn near seamlessly with the mossy roof shingles. Shadows cast by overhanging branches seemed to draw one hazy grey curtain over the river-rock walls, while the overgrown trellises of hollyhock and ivy drew another in green. From this distance, what bits of the house she could make out clearly looked more like the face of the mountainous cliffs just beyond it, or perhaps the jumble of some past landslide already grown over with vegetation. If it weren’t for the glint of daylight that periodically reflected off a second floor window as she circled the property, she might have walked right past the place without even noticing.
And that would have been a pity, because her caller had promised to pay two grand for this job. Divorce—such a nasty business. Especially when one soon-to-be ex decided to be a dick about how much she really did make and yet was stupid enough to keep records. Not that Goldi was any kind of tender-hearted Robin Hood or Scarlet Pimpernel. Oh no. When she robbed someone, it was all about the money and she certainly didn’t give it away once she got it. However, every now and then, it did give her warm, fuzzy feelings to know her impending thievery was about to shaft someone who really, genuinely deserved it. Be they male or female, exes, in her opinion, always deserved it. If they didn’t, they’d still be married.
Dressed all in form-fitting black, Goldi circled the house. First from a distance, then cautiously moving in closer, she stayed in the shadows where she’d be harder to spot until she felt confident no one was at home. No thin wisps of smoke snaked from the chimney nor were there lights on inside, not from any of the many windows and most had the curtains wide open. In this day and age, that practically begged for someone to break in. Goldi was too damn good at her job to refuse.
She made one last circle, this time with all of her attention fixed on each avenue of entry. The front door faced a small clearing; she wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of boldly going in through the front. There was a side cellar-style door, half hidden behind a chopping block and enough neatly stacked cords of wood to keep a small village warm for at least six months, but it had a padlock on it. The lower floor windows were all high enough that she’d need something to stand on in order to reach them, but if worse came to worst, she supposed she could climb one of those wood stacks. She’d hold that in reserve for Plan B, since the house did have a back door. Nice and secluded, tucked behind a small porch and two ivy-covered trellises. A simple door latch. No deadbolt. One look at that and she was decided; she was totally a backdoor kind of girl.
Somewhere in the forest, a twig snapped. Goldi froze, but a quick scan of the trees behind her revealed no hint of danger, especially not the two-legged, just-returning-home kind. Still, she hesitated, waiting and listening, her eye following the dip of each breeze-bending fern and the rustle of the brush. Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe it was the source of the noise she was looking for, but less than ten feet from where she had pressed herself to the trunk of a large evergreen, a pinecone suddenly dropped. Tic-toc-tac—it bounced off the thick branches high over her head and all the way down to the ground. This was a forest, she told herself, her wary eyes searching for signs of what had dropped it. Forests had animals. Squirrels and birds and all that shit.
Keep it together, Goldi, she told herself. When she got her phone call later today, she was not about to report she couldn’t do the job because she’d let herself get spooked by a bunch of rodents chucking nuts at each other. She forced her attention back to the job.
The house remained still, with no signs of occupation behind any of those open windows. Slipping through the undergrowth, she approached the back door and climbed the steps. The ivy trellises hid her well, although that honestly didn’t matter. The house was so remote, she could have done a striptease in the open yard without anyone ever knowing.
Tic-toc-tac! She jumped when another pinecone fell out of the trees, landing within feet of her. She looked up, seeing nothing but tree branches.
Fucking squirrels.