The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(130)

“You don’t even know him!”

“I know him better than you do.” The man growled as he tugged the two lengths of chain taut through the ring in the floor, clattering as he dug in a pocket, his abs stretched above her. Finally, he shifted and she watched as he linked them with a large padlock. When he let go, she realized she couldn’t lift up at all—held down as sure as if his hands were still on her.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want?” She half-screamed the questions at him as he checked the lengths of chain to ensure she had no slack.

“I want you to scream and beg. But don’t worry, princess, I’m going to make that happen soon.” Moving to one of her legs, he caught her foot when she tried to kick him, and the glare he gave her through the mask made her start crying. His punishments from before were still fresh, her throat still aching, and there was no way she could win against him—but she still hated herself as she let him wrap the cuff around her ankle. Locking it to the chain, he ran it through another ring on the floor before he secured it in place.

And she let him.

Passive as a sacrifice, doing her best to ignore how wide he spread her legs to repeat the process on the other ankle.

The dim light of the room highlighted his toned arms as he worked, and she couldn’t figure out why he had taken the shirt off. It was cool in the room, the chill making her shiver when she wasn’t curled up, but there he was half-naked, hidden behind a mask, using another padlock on the last bit of chain. Clenching her eyes tight, she tried to block out the feeling of his eyes on her, the quiet buzz in her skin that anticipated his touch.

Weak. Foolish. Helpless.

“Why are you doing this? Please, just tell me why.” Her eyes opened to find him staring at her, that tawny brown gaze losing some of the predatory gleam now that his prey was secure.

His fingers brushed over her leg almost reverently, his body stilling as he settled beside her on the thin mattress. “Because you’re the only weakness he has, Rapunzel.”

“Stop calling me that!” she screamed, but with a quick movement he pinched her inner thigh hard and she yelped in pain.

“You’re such a brat. A spoiled fucking brat.” He shook his head, looking back at the door before he turned that masked face towards her and sighed. “I would teach you a lesson if we weren’t waiting for your father to miss another deadline.”

“No, no…” There were tears in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away, to summon some internal strength again. “You have to give him more time, you have—”

“You know, Rapunzel, Daddy’s nickname for you actually fits very well. Your hair… so long, so blonde. No one has hair like this anymore.” His voice was a rumbling murmur as he talked over her, twirling a section of her hair around one finger, white gold against his tan skin. “Do you keep it long for him? Does it make him happy?”

Rebecca dropped her head back and clenched her eyes tight, refusing to answer. Why was he even talking to her like he thought she was a person? He’d made it more than clear what he thought of her. Nothing more than a tool to use as he pleased.

Despite her silence, he continued in that strangely calm monotone. “It’s long. Must have taken a long time to get it down to your hips like that.”

“Why the fuck do you care?” she snapped.

He spanked her inner thigh, the fiery shock making her hips lift involuntarily. “You will speak respectfully or you will be gagged. Understand?”

When she stayed silent, he pinched the delicate skin again and twisted, sharpening the pain to a pinpoint of lightning. Her yelp made her gasp before she clenched her teeth tight. “Fine! Yes!”

“Good girl.” The man smoothed his hand over the sore spot, petting her like she was an animal, and she hated that some level of her found it soothing. “So, have you ever cut it?”

“Of course I have.” Rebecca forced the words through gritted teeth, and he tilted his head as he started to trace his fingers up to her lower belly, down across her waist, and then over her hip to return to her thigh.

“Just the ends, or—”

“I had a few inches cut off last year, my hair just grows fast. Okay?” With a jerk at the cuffs, she muttered curses under her breath. The dull ache in her wrists reminded her that she wasn’t healed, and that this momentarily calm behavior was nothing more than a fleeting respite.

“Like Rapunzel,” he mused.

“Yes.”

“And you’re a natural blonde.” His fingers stroked up until he brushed the trim curls at the apex of her thighs, and she pulled hard at the cuffs binding her ankles in an effort to close her legs.

“Yes,” she hissed, digging her nails into her palms.

“Like Rapunzel.” There was a dreamy quality to his voice, something strange inside it that belied the anger she’d normally heard from him.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Rebecca swallowed hard when he raised his eyes to her, the only expressive part he allowed with the rest of his features covered in that thin cloth.

“Because he calls you that.”

“My father?”

“Yes, that asshole.” His hand stilled on her skin, ceasing the endless circles he’d been making.

“Why do you hate him, us, so much?”