The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(49)

Until the day of death. I can still hear the cries when I close my eyes at night. The resistance grew impatient. They moved in and attacked. They had no idea what they were up against, and as each brave warrior lost their life that day, I stood back and helplessly watched. Everything I once fought for, everyone I had stood beside in camaraderie, was dead. I was told that even my own father had perished on that battlefield. The only thing that remained was Maleficent, his bloody and ruthless army, and the corpses of hope being hung up along the walls of the compound to warn all who wanted to attempt such an insane mission again. Should they have waited for me? Should my father have waited to lead the attack until I returned? Waited for crucial intel that could have helped them win the battle?

No.

They wouldn’t have liked what I had to say.

You cannot beat Maleficent. He is unstoppable.

I thought I could. I thought I would be victorious.

But the damage to my heart and the core of who I was became destroyed. The only hope for me now was a deep grave that would swallow the filth that I had become.

So yes, that woman should have feared me. She should have taken one look at me and trembled, even pissed herself at what would become the horror of her new imprisoned life. She should have screamed, cried, all for the upcoming agony she was about to endure from my hand.



Briar

We entered a large housing structure, neither of us saying a single word. He maintained a strong hold on my arm, which I appreciated rather than feared. I could hear screams, pleas, cries of other women as we walked down the hallway. Some women were being dragged by their hair. Others were sobbing as they obediently followed their new master. I, however, did not shed a single tear. I had no reason to at this time. Was I scared?

Yes.

Was I positive I would hate what was in store?

Absolutely.

But I had learned something a long time ago—focus on the moment, rather than the future. To worry about the what ifs would only destroy what could be a moment that was not full of misery at the time. Misery would come. Hunger would come. Death would follow. But if for that one moment, you weren’t miserable, weren’t hungry, and were not dead—then focus on that positive. It was the only way to survive. It was the only way not to go completely mad.

Stopping us before a door—one of many down the long hallway—my trainer entered a code into a keypad, and the door clicked open. He guided me into the room and flipped a switch that turned on the lights. It was one large room with a window at the far end. The curtains were closed so I was unable to see what it looked out upon. There was a large bed, an armchair, a plain wood table with two wooden chairs on each end, and a cot pushed up against the far wall. Another door was slightly ajar, and I could see it led to the bathroom. The floor was bare concrete with no rugs, and nothing hanging on the walls. Gray floors, white walls, yet very pristine. The falling ash from the sky had not made its way into this room, and for that, I was grateful.

“I’m assuming you are hungry,” my trainer said as he shut the door behind us.

I looked at him and nodded. “Very.”

“Go on into the bathroom and clean up your knees.” I looked down and saw that blood was trickling down my leg. “There are bandages and antiseptic in the top drawer.” He let go of my arm, walked over to a small computer mounted on the wall, and began typing with his back to me. “I’ll order some food to be brought to us.” He looked over his shoulder at me and an eyebrow rose. “Well, go on now. Get cleaned up.”

My heart skipped a beat at how firm his voice was. He wasn’t exactly terrifying like Maleficent was, but he was a man who exuded no nonsense. I had no intention of upsetting him or defying him in any way. I rushed to the bathroom and closed the door behind me, releasing the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding.

Much like the apartment, the bathroom was bare, sterile, simple. But it was a bathroom with running water and a flushing toilet. Both were luxuries where I came from, and the shower and tub meant I would remain clean while I was here, which was a simple pleasure in life. And the fact that my trainer was ordering food meant I would also get to eat, which, too, was something I could not usually guarantee on a daily basis. Running the cool water on a neatly folded cloth I took from a shelf over the toilet, I quickly cleaned all my scrapes and puncture wounds. Not wanting to keep my trainer waiting for long, I opened the drawer, applied the antiseptic and bandages, and washed my face. Noticing that there was a comb in the drawer, I ran it down my golden locks as I tried to make myself as presentable as possible. I didn’t want to repulse the man, and it felt good to be clean and orderly in appearance.

As I entered the living area again, I could feel my cheeks warm when the knowledge that I still stood naked set in. I wondered if I would ever be allowed to dress again, but I also wasn’t about to verbally complain or ask. The words of the woman in the carriage still rang in the back of my mind. I had no intention of being punished or even worse. I would do exactly as my trainer said. It would be far easier that way. And then maybe, once he knew he had no reason to punish me for anything, I could take that opportunity to see if there was a way out or any chance of escape.

There was a buzz at the door and my trainer pointed to the table and chairs. “Go sit.”

I did as he asked, my mouth watering with the idea that I would get to eat. It had been so long. As I sat down on the cold wood, I flinched slightly when the temperature made contact with my bare behind. I crossed my legs, grateful that I could somewhat conceal my privates, even though my breasts were on full display over the edge of the table.