Into the Woods

As the door closed with a resounding click, I resigned myself to what was coming to me.

"Where the hell have you been?!" my mother yelled at the top of her voice. "You could have been taken off the path and had god knows what done to you!"

I allowed her to continue her tirade of the same old thing and desperately wished to be a million miles away. All I wanted was one hour away from her constant surveillance, was that so selfish? Was it so awful to want to get away from feeling like I lived with jailers? I half expected to see my older brother and father installing a lock on my bedroom door or my mother watching me from behind a tree as I walked along to my grandmother's house. She had long, curly blonde hair that was tied up in a messy bun and green eyes that flashed with anger. Her delicate frame had the strength and poise of a lioness and her voice boomed across the small living room of our wooden cabin.

I could not look to my father or my brother Jacob to help. My father sat in his chair by the fire and stared at the book he was reading whilst Jacob stood by the fire warming himself pretending not to laugh. I didn't know why he couldn't at least pretend to be sympathetic. I suppose they knew going against my mother was not to be undertaken lightly and actively avoided the burning of her acid tongue. I groaned in silent frustration and set my jaw tight, clenching my fists at my side. As boundless as the love I had for my mother was, I knew she wouldn't understand my reasons and held my tongue despite the burning need to slam the door and never return. She yelled at me until I was nearly deaf. I felt more like a scolded child than a grown woman.

My father looked up from his book momentarily, wincing in sympathy. His eyes were a deep blue and had the look of a man old before his time. His face was lined by the years and he lacked the youthful energy he once had. He would often stare out of the window and long to be back in the forest despite his bones screaming for rest. My mother was a woman of a fiery temper and whilst his rational, calm nature often kept her from being too overbearing with me, it could not help me now.

My mother then led me into my bedroom, holding my hand like I was still a little girl. She dressed me in my nightgown and sat down beside me on my bed as she scraped a comb through my ebony hair, pausing occasionally to kiss the top of my head.

"I say these things only because I love you and want to see you safe, my dearest one. There are monsters out there who would take my precious jewel away from me."

Her words, although intended to be kind, felt like rubbing salt into a wound. I said nothing and let my head hang as she continued to comb the knots from my hair. She then pulled back the sheets on my bed and plumped my pillows. I climbed into bed and laid my head down into the deep softness. As I closed my eyes, I could feel her finger trace across my cheek and kiss my forehead as she sang me to sleep.

Or rather, my eyes would remain closed and my chest mimic the movements of sleep until I heard the click of my bedroom door...

***

The forest floor crunches beneath my feet as I walk slowly through the trees. The scent of the pines and the fresh mountain air are intoxicating to my senses. The weight of the basket on my arm makes me drop it onto the floor and I remove my cloak from around my neck so I can sit on it.

Spread out on the forest floor, it is the colour of fresh blood and it makes my skin look even more ivory than usual. I run my hands through my long black hair and twirl it around my fingers in my habitual way. As I do, I stare at the green and black patterned skirt that reaches just past my knees. My bodice is laced as tight as my mother's hands could manage, and I feel the occasional chafing around my chest and waist.

Who says that desirability isn't painful? I wonder idly.

I look down at my black leather walking boots, which are the only practical thing that I am wearing today. With my eighteenth birthday only days behind me, my mother has suddenly decided to change my wardrobe to corsets and skirts that show the length of my legs from my usual plain cotton blouses and skirts. The corsets are painful and restricting to wear but they seem to keep the daggers in her eyes at bay.

"You will make your mother very happy, my dear" she would say with clear authority in her voice.

I look at her other present of a small mirror in my hand as I remove it from the basket. As I stare at my reflection, I recall with embarrassment the rituals my mother has recently taken to. The washing of my face in goat's milk, the constant combing of my hair and her irritating surveillance for what she calls my 'Red Flower'.

I think about the numerous bunches of flowers and hand written notes at home and my mother beaming with ecstasy as if they were left for her, not me. The annoying frequency of the gifts made me want to hurl them out of the window. As a result, she has followed me everywhere I go now like a guard dog, something that has gotten increasingly worse over time. Her only exception to the rule is when I visit my Grandma, with Jacob taking me halfway through the dangerous part of the woods. A stipulation on my part.

Today is an exception though. The journey isn't particularly long and I take joy in my rare moments of solitude. Yet guilt plagued my thoughts. It's not my brother's fault that my mother is so overprotective and I imagine the bellowing of her voice coupled with my father and brother's worried expressions. I make a mental note to make it up to my brother later and to explain everything to my father whilst sitting next to him by the warm fire. I imagine holding his hand like I always do and him looking at me with that loving and yet lost look in his eyes before stroking my cheek and giving me a long kiss on the top of my head. It was an unspoken conversation between father and daughter.

I was walking alongside Jacob in companionable silence and I could see the look upon his face that came from being the elder sibling tasked with being a watchdog to the youngest. The look of annoyance and yet extreme smugness that what he said went. He swung his axe against the side of a tree as if he thought that it would take down such a giant pillar of nature so easily. With my father's energy not being what it was, it was natural for my brother to believe that the responsibility would eventually fall on him.

Jacob was tall and strong, with long arms and short blonde hair. His strong jaw and blue eyes made him by far the most attractive man in our village. He was a carbon copy of what I imagined my father looked like at his age, coupled with my mother's bold personality and golden hair.

I suppressed a giggle as he made a further, futile attempt to knock it down. "Come on Jacob! I have to get to Grandma's house!"

"Just a minute!" he said impatiently, the axe barely making a dent in such a monstrous tree.

I stared at the space between the trees and tried not to fidget too much. Then, although I am ashamed to admit this, whilst his back was turned, I went with my urge to run... as fast and as far away as I could.

Sighing at the memory, I take out the latest volume of poetry and open it up to the first page. Whilst she hasn't forbidden me to, my mother is of the opinion that I should have 'more important things' to occupy my time with. As my eyes scan the page, my mind begins to devour all the wonderful words.

Every night, after I was sure that my mother had gone to bed, I would reach under my bed for my books and read for hours by the light of a dim candle. The strain on my eyes didn't matter as I read stories of pirates, mermaids, daring young maidens and handsome princes with gusto. The world would fall away and give way to magic and adventure.

Reading was something my Grandma thought vital to teach me teach me instead of what she calls 'Tiresome Needlework'. I laugh at the sound of her voice as I remember our visits. Her gifts of borrowed books in my basket were always a secret bargain made between us. She is a wonderfully witty and clever lady but it often keeps her reclusive and she has very little in the way of visitors. Yet, my visits to her gave me a chance to indulge my need for adventure. Her deep dark eyes were made even larger with her glasses and her silver grey hair shone in the dim light as she told me stories of her youth travelling the world. She would often make a point to tell me stop dreaming and actually do something but I think even she knew where her words would be ineffective with my mother. They were a mystery to each other at the best of times.

I imagined the lives of the young maidens, beyond the pages, and what wonderful experiences they must have had. I must confess to you, my reader, that I have often thought of what they do in the deepest part of night and I would feel a tingling below and the tightening of my nipples under my nightgown. So much so that I would be moaning into the pillow as my hand wandered under the blankets to my secret place.

I often imagined myself lying on my back with my knees raised and his hands up my skirt, fondling me in all the right places. His hands would rest upon my hips and grip me hard as he grinded against my wetness. I felt kisses and bites up my neck and his hands pressing against my bodice, squeezing my breasts. I moaned with pleasure as I felt the lace strings of my bodice come undone and my breasts were exposed to his hungry mouth. I could feel his growl on my chest and his nails scratched up and down my exposed skin as I gripped his head in my hands and wrapped my legs around his waist, wanting him as close to me as possible.

I heard the click of his belt buckle as he lets IT out. He circled my soaking wet entrance to tease me. I wanted so desperately to feel the crack of his belt across my backside until it was fiery red but I control myself as best I can whilst trapped under the weight of his body. His hands became more insistent and his hands gripped the hair at the back of my neck to bring my neck to his mouth once again. Claiming me. Exposing me.

The turning of the door knob would then interrupt me and I would quickly remove my hand from between my legs and turn on my side as I heard my mother enter the room. Once again I tried to mimic the sounds of deep sleep and I felt the arousal dying like the last embers of a fire. My treasured fantasy, tragically, disappearing from my mind. I tried not to scream in frustration at my mother's nightly visits as the door clicked shut and her footsteps echoed throughout the house like the cracking of a whip.

I suddenly snap out of my deep thoughts and scold myself for thinking too much about such things. For once agreeing with my mother and place the book back into my basket. What is wrong with me? I let out a great sigh at the memory and stretch out on my cloak to stare up at the late afternoon sky. The tops of the dark green trees seem to stretch to the sky as if pleading. The sounds of the forest are so minimal it's hard to believe that there are any other living things here besides me. There are only the occasional sounds of the wind whistling softly through the trees, the chirps of birds or the crunch of tiny branches under the feet of woodland creatures. I close my eyes, taking in the splendour around me and enjoy the stolen moments of tranquility.

I can't tell how long I laid there. It could have been hours or simply minutes. Time had no place in my quiet little glade and all the worries of the world seemed so unimportant.

Yet I'm not stupid; My father was very clear with me as a child to pay attention to where I was going as a simple navigation error can mean you become disorientated and end up lost in the forest for days.

Despite my need for freedom and space, I am acutely aware of the fact that I am potentially in the path of any predator, and I begin to watch all around me for anything out of the ordinary. My heart is pounding and I instinctively reach for my father's hunting knife in my basket. I sit up and try not to move too quickly or breathe too loudly. I listen hard.

The sudden sound of a twig snapping makes me jump but when I see that it is just a bird, I let out sigh of relief. My ears then prick up again. I am probably just imagining things but I could swear that I wasn't alone.

Then what I can only describe as a low, almost imperceptible growl makes my eyes widen and my grip tighten on the handle of the blade. My heartbeat pressing against my throat and my ears, my stomach swooping downwards towards the floor and my hands dampening. Yet, my instincts kick in and I stand up, knife poised, searching through the dark parts of the trees. My eyes dart around in every direction, searching for the source of the noise. Then, to my horror, I look down and find my basket missing. Panicking, I search around again, until I notice the absence of red on the forest floor. I am all alone with only my knife and my wits. I want nothing more than to scream and run away but I know that would not help me. I peer into one area of the forest in particular and I notice two very large spheres, no, they look like... Eyes! Two big, blood red, penetrating eyes that seem to be holding me in place. I notice the look of hunger they give me as they survey my body. I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest.

I feel my rationality begin to subside, quickly being replaced with the desire to run. There is a prickling sensation on the back of my neck and sweat begins to roll down my temples. I can feel the small of my back and my palms becoming damp. I look in any other direction I can. Anywhere but at those eyes. They suddenly retreat back into the woods and for a moment I think I am safe but the reprieve doesn't last. I hear the frightening sounds of running behind me and turn away from that direction as quickly as I can before running back the way I came. I stop suddenly at the movement of a figure in front of me. I can't make out any particular shape or body type but the blood red eyes are once again on me. The magnetic pull of that gaze both terrifies and calms me. I desperately try to look away but I can't move. Thoughts of my family finding me dead run through my mind. Even if I do manage to escape, I can't imagine that the creature would leave me untouched.

The eyes once again free me from their grasp and I take advantage of the opportunity to get away, running in the opposite direction from where I saw them. I run without direction and take momentary comfort in the feeling of the handle of my knife. But too late, I realise that my hand is completely empty. I must have dropped it in my terror. I am without even the most basic form of protection. I bite my lip to suppress a scream and shivers run all the way through my body. My movements become slower with fatigue as I move through the forest. As I do, I keep telling myself to remain calm and not allow myself to become anymore lost than I already am.

"You can run all you want, pretty girl, but it will do you no good!"

The words are such an attack on my senses, I trip and fall onto the forest floor, rolling onto my side. I feel my head make contact with the bough of a large tree with a sharp stab of pain. I try to stand up slowly but my vision can't quite adjust and I hold onto the side of the tree. I feel my legs give way underneath me but as I begin to fall, big, strong hands grip me by the waist and hold me against the tree. I feel completely defenceless despite my mind trying to take back control of my body. As my eyes slowly regain their focus, I catch sight of my scarlet cloak hanging from the branch and my basket near the side of a tree with the handle of my knife sticking out of it. I want to move towards them, to retrieve my knife, but the pain prevents me and the strong hands wrap tighter around my waist as I feel a leg move between my spread legs. I don't have the strength to struggle as those eyes once again meet mine.

"Don't try to fight it, my dear. You will need your strength for what I have planned for you"

I feel some fight return and I want to struggle, but I know I am captive. I know I am under his control.The redness of his eyes saps what remains of my strength.

"That's right, my pet. Look deep into my eyes and surrender your beautiful mind and body to me" he says in that deep, hypnotic voice.

All I can focus on now is my primal instinct to listen, to obey. Any desire to run is gone and has been replaced by a wonderful sense of calm. The same feeling that had me rooted to the spot before. My breathing is shaky and my body is pressed between his and the rough bark of the tree. Wonderfully trapped.

"You're perfect. All that's left now is to make you mine." He says with an animal-like growl.

He caresses my body, all the while keeping that burning gaze trained on mine and deep moans escape my mouth. I feel both like a participant and an observer in my fate. Acutely aware of the sensations and of an eerie sense of detachment from my mind. I can only give myself to the deep sensations of pleasure.

The forest canopy is dense and there isn't much light so I can hardly tell who my assailant is. He looked human but I couldn't all together tell as he had hair everywhere. I do however remember in detail his strong, powerful hands, his big mouth with a long tongue and those blood red eyes. Heaven help me, those eyes! His dark eyebrows met in the middle and he had short, black hair on the top of his head. His strong shoulders and arms made my whole body feel as fragile and delicate as a Porcelain doll.

His chest and stomach were pressed against mine and I could feel myself responding despite how lost in his gaze I felt. My breasts were beginning to tighten and swell and I could feel sparks coursing down my spine and between my legs. I could feel my core open and my whole body became warmer by the second. The sweat that ran down between my breasts and down my temples was no longer the cold sweat of fear.

His hands wrap around the sides of my neck and chin before he pushes me up against the tree further whilst I held onto his shoulders. My neck instinctively moves to the side as his mouth finds its way to the soft skin of my neck and throat. His soft, red mouth and wet tongue glide up to the soft spot behind my ear and I could swear that I felt the sharp glide of his teeth against my jugular. My eyes roll back into my head and my breathing picks up with such speed that I feel my consciousness almost slip away from me. Something I suspected wouldn't hinder him.

His grip tightens as I feel something hard between his legs and he grinds against my wetness. The euphoria takes over my body and decorum matters not to me in this moment. The restriction of my corset is too much but i'm so lost in the sensation that I only notice its ripped remnants on the forest floor when I feel the cold air on my newly exposed skin. It feels almost as good as his big hands on my breasts, stroking the sides and rolling the nipples between his fingers.

I know it's wrong to enjoy this so much but I just don't care anymore!

The sound of his commanding voice. The power of his stance. The feel of his hands on my body and the magnetic power of his eyes are making my body weak with desire.

His mouth then suddenly moves to my nipple and greedily sucks as his moans of appreciation and hunger vibrate throughout my whole body.

"Oh my dear, you are so sweet and tasty. It's like your body is calling to me to devour it." I want to respond but I lose my words as I suddenly feel his hands move from my waist, to my hips and then up and down the skin of my inner thighs. He is extremely careful not to touch my wetness though as I fear that one single touch will be enough to make me explode in pleasure.