The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(132)

Pristine.

Ignorant.

Perfect.

“Spoiled little bitch.” The rage, a warm and welcome old friend, purred in his chest. Erasing the visions of her biting down on her pretty pink lips, her blue eyes searching his for a mercy she wouldn’t find. She was Sinclair’s heir, his pride and joy, and he was going to tear her down off her pedestal. He traced the long line of her naked body on the screen. “You’re not safe anymore, princess, and Daddy is about to see just how serious I am.”

The idea formed in his mind like oil spilling into water. Corrupting and dark.

No more hollow threats, no more countdowns, no more half-measures. Daniel Sinclair was going to fall in line or he was going to watch the pretty blonde break.

It only took a few minutes before he was dressed, the stifling mask over his face, and all of the tools he would need gathered together. Leaning back over to the computer he sent an encrypted email through the server and then took another long drink of the rum. Sweet and burning, all the way down.

“Let’s see how long you hold out, bastard.” Spitting the words at the unresponsive screen, he left the room and walked a short way down the hall. He paused at the heavy door, taking a steadying breath so he could cool the fiery hate rushing under his skin.

Don’t kill her, just make her scream.

Flipping the lock, he shoved the door open and she twitched on the mattress. Her long limbs trying to contract against the chains, and the metallic rattle was music to his ears. Rebecca had been asleep, he’d been watching her on the screen for almost an hour, but now he needed her pain. Her pale blue eyes widened as she lifted her head, and he couldn’t help but smile at the open fear on her face.

“Seems like Daddy doesn’t want to save you, princess,” he cooed, keeping his voice low and quiet. With careful, measured steps, he approached her. The way she shivered was beautiful, her nipples had hardened to points in the cool air of the room, and he wondered if it was the chill or his presence that made her muscles quake like that. “It’s time for you to suffer.”

“No, no, wait. I’ll get him to do what you want. I’ll talk to him again, I swear. Just let me talk to him!” Her pleas were desperate as he paused beside her, staring down at the terrified form. It sent a thrill through his blood. That blonde hair was a pillowed nest under her head, flowing behind her back to fan out at her waist. A river of gold that he had an urge to push his hands through, pull until her lips parted so he could—

Stop. Fucking, focus.

“I don’t want you to talk to him anymore, Rapunzel, I want you to scream for him.” Lifting the ball gag in his hands, he smiled underneath the mask when she shook her head hard, panic making her flail at the chains.

“Please! Just let me talk to him again, please, tell me what you want and I’ll convince him! I swear! I’ll do it!” As she begged, he knelt down beside her, taking a moment to trace one finger over the soft skin of her arm. She felt so pure, so good, and how someone like her had come from someone so evil he couldn’t figure out—but none of that mattered. All he needed was her pain.

“Open up.” He held the gag in front of her face, offering her the easy way, but she clenched her teeth tight just like he’d expected. Somehow the girl was simultaneously terrified of him, and still defiant. Where was her sense of self-preservation? Why wasn’t she submitting to him fully in an attempt to make him lenient?

Not like it would work.

Wrapping his hand under her chin, he dug his fingers into the muscles of her jaw, slowly forcing her mouth wide as she whimpered. As soon as there was enough space, he forced the ball gag between her teeth, and then pressed his hand down to keep it there. “Tsk, tsk. I wasn’t asking, Rapunzel, and when you disobey you just make me angry.”

A sharp, incomprehensible shout escaped her lips, so he locked the gag a notch too tight, leaving her groaning as her jaw strained.

“You’re such a stupid girl. You believe everything he’s told you.” Reaching for his belt, Adam stood and slowly undid the buckle, the soft metal sound of it competing with the sudden ruckus of her struggling against the cuffs and the chains. Sweet music.

Her voice climbed in volume as she whimpered, pleaded, and he pulled the belt free of his pants, the whisper of leather another instrument joining the symphony.

“All right, princess, time to scream.” With a snap of his wrist, the belt landed across the bruising crop marks on the tops of her thighs. She bowed up on the mattress, her body arching prettily as she cried out in pain.

This was what he needed to calm the rage.

Another lash landed and it wrapped to her inner thigh, her legs jerking in a useless effort to close them. Her pleas were stuttered with the earliest sobs of pain, but he just soaked it all in. There was something about the way she writhed, trying so hard to avoid the next snap of the belt even though there was nowhere to go.

Again, and again, and again.

The sharp crack of leather meeting skin, the yelp of pain, followed by another round of sob-filled babbling. Even through the gag her voice was soprano sweet, undulating in agony, and his cock twitched behind his zipper in response.

The rage flickered in his chest and then returned with force.

Red lines bloomed across her pale skin, and for a moment he wished he had chained her so he could flip her over. Paint the back with stripes to match the front. Perhaps the next time her father didn’t take his threats seriously.