The Beasts of Blacktangle Forest

Content warning: this story contains some non-con and dub-con

Bridget writhed in bed, face buried in her pillow, hips humping against the fingers inside her, that trio standing in for the raring cock of the passionate lover unfortunately residing entirely in her fantasy. Her free hand groped at her breasts, standing in for said lover's assertive hands. Shivers fired over her from the building pleasure. The fantasy lover fucked her harder, with a lust bordering on violence. She sped her fingers up, thrusting them roughly into her channel, juices slicking towards her wrist. Her breathless moans were muffled by the pillow, ensuring that her father in the next room over would continue to be unaware of her nightly ritual.

The pleasure approached ecstasy. She did not stop, pushing herself into the soothing embrace of release. The fantasy lover followed, his cock erupting inside her. Imagination only went so far, as Bridget had yet to experience such a sensation, but she was sure it would be a wonderful reward for offering up her body so readily.

The moans calmed into sighs. She unwound, slumping into the mattress. The ecstasy emptied her mind of all thoughts. Her fingers slipped out and flopped onto the bed, the juices glazing her hand adding to the dampness already on the sheet.

She turned over, basking in the glow of satisfaction. The fantasy continued in her imagination, her lover eyeing her nakedness, raking an amorous gaze from her thighs to her sex and up over her belly to her breasts. She spread her legs, blushing at her reaction to this fantasy lover's attention.

If anyone knew what I think about when I masturbate...or that I masturbate at all and don't just sit on my hands waiting for a husband...

She eased onto her side away from the wetness on the sheet, closing her eyes, hoping sleep would come before more thoughts.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Bridget walked up to her father's workspace, laden basket hanging from her elbow. He was at the forge, stooped over as always, his back to her. Lucas, his apprentice, was thankfully nowhere to be seen, likely out on a delivery.

"Papa!" she called over to him, staying a certain distance away, unwilling to brave the heat of the air around the forge.

He turned, his brow shining with sweat. A bright smile broke out over his face.

"Hello, Bridget!"

"I'm leaving to go visit Grandma Joanna. I'll be back tomorrow."

The smile grew wider.

"Oh, what a granddaughter you are! Tell my mother how much I love her, will you?"

"Of course, Papa!"

"And be careful on the road. Don't talk to strange men."

"I'll be careful," she assured him. "After all, who would take care of you if not me?"

He chuckled, a slight sadness underneath the mirth.

"Godspeed, daughter. I'll see you tomorrow!"

She smiled and turned to leave.

Lucas was trudging up the hill to the house. His tired expression gave way to a hopeful one.

"Bridget! How are you?"

"Fine, thank you," she said politely.

"Where are you headed off to?" he asked next, noticing her basket.

"I'm off to visit Grandma Joanna."

"Ah, do you want me to come with you to the convent?"

She shook her head, forcing a grateful smile.

"No, but thank you."

"Are you sure? You never how what sorts you'll run into on the road."

"I appreciate it, but I'm sure my father needs you here."

"Well, you're more important than his work, so I'm sure he won't mind if I escort you."

Give it up already.

"It's very sweet of you to offer, but I won't be that long on the road. The convent is just the next village over."

"Alright," he said with barely hidden disappointment. "Safe trip then."

"Thank you."

She slunk past him, heading down the hill, acutely aware of his gaze settling on her backside.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The last houses at the edge of the village gave way to the road. Bridget walked along, basket swaying to her steps.

At least the inane chatter I might have on the road is likelier to be with folks I don't know.

The conversation with Laurel took the longest to escape from. The nosy older sister of the constable spent the majority of her day in the square, waiting to talk to whoever presented any sort of interesting topic. And when it came to Bridget, the topic was always Fulton, Laurel's youngest son, currently wifeless despite being a spectacular example of stalwart loyalty and gentlemanly charm.

According to his mother, at least.

Bridget knew full well that she was a tempting target for mothers who wanted their sons married.

Damn my childbearing hips and ample breasts. Perfect for bearing and nursing strong babes, apparently.

The road opened up away from the village. Blacktangle Forest waited ahead on either side, the dark, gnarled trees clawing towards the sky, shadow-winged birds wheeling above them cawing and crowing. Even just strolling through the areas of the forest closest to the road instilled a sense of danger. Venturing deeper, encroaching on the animals teeming in the sinister woods, courted actual danger, with stories abounding in the surrounding villages of intrepid, stupid, or unlucky travelers encountering vicious creatures.

Willem certainly never shuts up about the humongous wolf he saw last year. Said it walked on two legs.

The road was less populated in the late afternoon, with the sun about to set, but she still passed fellow travelers, sharing with each one the traditional cheery wave and friendly smile.

Her thoughts went ahead to her grandmother.

I wonder what sort of state she'll be in today.

While her grandmother was more or less physically healthy, her mind was muddled. Some days, she was her usual affectionate self, even if she had forgotten much of her life, on occasion mistaking Bridget for a long-deceased cousin. Other, more difficult days, she warred with the nuns who took care of her, convinced she was being held against her will or that the nuns were concocting some plot.

Nevertheless, Bridget did her best to visit frequently, often also on her father's behalf, since he was busy with work. The convent that had taken her in was easy enough to visit, at the far fringe of the next village over, and the nuns were happy to let Bridget stay overnight if necessary.

Further down the road, three monks in gray habits huddled around a wagon stuck in the mud.

She glanced up at the sky. Although the rain from earlier in the day had ceased, the gray clouds augured the possibility of more.

"Sister!" one of the monks called to her when she neared them. "Might you be able to help us?"

"How would she help us, Brother Martin?" one of the others asked crossly.

"All God's children can be helpful, Brother Leo," the first monk said, smiling at Bridget.

She readjusted the basket.

Brother Leo is probably right.

"I suppose so," she said, stepping carefully around towards the other side of the wagon.

The back left wheel was squelched into a patch of mud, the wagon slightly tipped over, a burlap blanket thrown over the contents.

"What can I do?" she asked, crouching to get a closer look. "I'm afraid I'll be of no help lifting the wheel out."

A hand clapped over her mouth and she was hauled roughly back. Her feet found no purchase in the mud, sinking in like the wheel, leaving her helpless. The basket fell to the ground, the contents bursting out.

"The fuck are you doing?" Leo hissed sharply. "Does it look like there's anything valuable in that basket?"

"She's got something valuable between her legs," Martin shot back, ignoring her feeble slaps on his forearm.

Leo eyed her, and then grumbled in annoyance.

"Fine, but do it in the woods, not here."

A fearful shiver ran down her spine. She squirmed, screaming into his palm.

Martin started to drag her away from the wagon, but the third monk threw up a hand to stop him.

"Someone's coming," he told them, nodding down the road in the direction Bridget had come from.

Leo grumbled again.

"Get down. If they see her, we're done for."

Martin dragged her closer to the wagon, stooping to hide against the far corner.

"Make a sound and I'll cut your throat," he whispered.

A sharp, cold blade teased at her neck, drawing a whimper from her.

Leo and the other monk moved around in front of the wagon.

"Afternoon!" came a loud voice. "Might we offer any help to you godly brothers?"

"Afternoon, friend!" Leo spoke. "And thank you, but we're waiting on a few of our number down the road."

"Ah, good! Where do you hail from?"

"St. Christopher's over in Brace."

"That's quite a ways away! I hope your destination is not too far."

"It never is when God is at your back."

"Quite so, quite so!"

Another, quieter voice spoke up then to the loud voice.

"Yes, very good, Marion, capital idea! Brothers, might we make a prayer request of you?"

"Why, of course! Name those in need and we shall send their need to God."

"Our niece Thea disappeared some months ago. We've sent out many a party but have yet to turn up anything."

"God is with her wherever she is, brother, do not doubt that."

"Thank you kindly. Your prayers will mean so much to us."

"She's probably long dead," Martin muttered, his palm firm on Bridget's mouth.

Please...help me...I know you can't see me but maybe if you insist on helping them...

Instead of anything constructive, the idle conversation continued. Bridget did not move, did not make noise. The blade left her neck but its absence offered little comfort.

"Move along already," Martin grumbled at one point.

Cold sweat built on her. She stared up at the sky, the full moon faint but visible, heralding the encroaching evening.

The voices finally bade farewell after some time and continued down the road.

"Not yet," Leo told Martin.

"Anyone coming from the other way?" Martin asked the other fellow.

"No."

"And you were complaining about no one being around."

"I'd rather gold or valuables than cunt."

"Well, I'm not as saintly as you, Desmond," Martin shot back.

"Alright, go on," Leo told him, waving towards the woods. "Just get her off the road."

Martin spun her around and heaved her over his shoulder, two sudden movements that left her head spinning. Now upside down, she clawed at his habit, but could not stop him from setting off on a brisk run towards the woods. A frantic glance at the road showed no one within view.

"Please don't do this," she spoke up, voice shaking from fear and the constant jarring of his footfalls.

"Too late for begging, love."

"Please!"

Tears brimmed at her eyes. The trees welcomed her grimly into the forest.

"Please, I can get you gold...valuables too..."

He snickered cruelly.

"I already know where to get all that. I want something sweeter from you."

He slowed into a walk, carrying her deeper, the road receding further. She beat her fists against his back, and kicked at his legs, but he only snickered again at her pitiful efforts.

"Here should be good," he finally announced, unceremoniously dumping her to the ground.

She cried out in surprise, and then grunted at the impact, air pushed from her lungs, pain flaring across her shoulders, back, and ass.

The fall left her senses fuzzy for a few seconds. When her eyes focused, she saw Martin looming over her, mischievous smile on his face.

"Please," she whimpered, immediately shuffling backwards.

He sauntered forward lazily.

"Please..."

A distant howl rang out. Birds burst hurriedly from a few treetops.

Martin looked up, frowning slightly.

Now's my chance! God, please, let me be swift...

Gripped with desperation, the sort that had led to her first sincere prayer in years, she sprang to her feet and ran.

Trees flew by. Her cloak caught on a low-hanging branch, but her momentum tore it from around her neck. Another branch smacked across her forehead, leaving a stinging scrape. More branches scratched and snagged at her clothes. She heard laughter from behind her but did not look back.

A burning arose in her chest and sides. Her feet carried her deeper still into the forest. She made sure to zig and zag, keeping her path unpredictable. Martin called out to her but she did not listen, focused only on running.

She realized then that she was further in the woods than what was advisable. The trees were taller, the canopy thicker, the forest floor littered with bushes, rocks, and fallen branches. The only visible animals were the birds and rodents who scattered before her, chittering angrily. Her heart raced, a new fear bubbling up inside her, involving dangerous animals happening upon a helpless girl.

I can't just keep running. I need to hide...

She spotted a grotesquely gnarled tree ahead and skidded to a stop around it. A recessed hole at the base of the trunk provided a decent hiding place, so she clambered inside, the bark adding more scratches to her clothes and skin.

Maybe I lost him. Or he gave up. Either way, I can wait him out in here.

She slumped back against the inside of the tree, breathing heavily. The burning was fiery at her chest and sides. Her knees and ankles felt tired and weak.

I don't think I've ever run like that before...

Another distant howl sounded, but she was more concerned with closer noises, listening for any sort of rustling.

Time passed. A few minutes bled into more minutes. More minutes bled into what seemed like close to half an hour. The tired weakness at her knees and ankles was joined by discomfort in the same areas from her position crammed inside the cramped hole. She tried to adjust, but was unable to move much, her sweaty back rasping against the tree bark through her clothes.

Eventually, she heard voices.

"She can't have gotten far," Martin said.

"Well, we shouldn't waste too much time looking for her," Desmond replied. "It's getting late."

"I'd hate to lose out on a young, busty thing like her though."

"There are plenty of young, busty things out there for you to terrorize."

"Terrorize? I prefer to think of it as forcibly seduce."

"Whatever you call it, we're not going to stay out here for too long. There could be all sorts of dangers about."

"If you see squirrels and sparrows as dangerous, sure."

Their voices came closer to her hiding spot. Fear surged inside her. Her breathing grew ragged.

"You haven't heard the stories about these woods?"

Martin scoffed.

"You think I listen to the people we rob?"

"Not just on the road, but in taverns and markets."

"Fine, I'll bite. What stories?"

"Stories about things certainly scarier than you. Wolf-men, witches, satanic gatherings..."

Martin laughed.

"That's just bored village folk talk. You shouldn't take it seriously."

Bridget noticed a rock on the ground just in front of her hiding spot.

"There could be some truth in the talk."

She scooped it up, leaned out from the hole, and chucked it back to the left.

The rock knocked off a tree, the sound interrupting the inane conversation.

"What was that?" Martin spoke up.

Footfalls thundered in that direction, rustling through the undergrowth.

Bridget launched herself from the hole. The fear lent her a burst of desperate speed, her body primed to flee.

Another branch sliced at her cheek, but she ignored the spark of pain, huffing with exertion. The earlier burning flared up at her chest and sides. She looked frantically over her shoulder and saw no one pursuing her.

I have no idea which way I'm going...but I just need to get away from them.

Her foot caught on something. She tumbled forward, landing hard on the ground, this time at least able to brace herself. Her palms skidded along the dirt, clods flying up around her, spraying onto her face and clothes.

"Clever girl," Martin said from right behind her, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her up.

She cried out, flailing back at him, the sharp pain at her scalp bringing tears to her eyes.

"Please!"

He hurled her against a nearby tree. Her back slammed into the trunk. She yelped, more pain blazing, her head swimming.

"When I first saw you, I wasn't planning on doing too much."

Her eyes came back into focus. He advanced on her, knife in hand. She pressed herself back against the tree.

"But now, you've got me all worked up. I want to spend a little more time with you."

Footfalls sounded nearby. She glanced over to see Desmond come to a stop some dozen yards away.

"Help me!" she begged. "Please!"

Martin laughed.

"Desmond's here to help me, not you."

"Just make it quick," Desmond spoke up.

Martin grabbed her blouse and tugged it out from her skirt.

"Please!" she shrieked, doing her best to squirm away.

"You'd better stay still. I'd hate to nick you."

The knife cut into her blouse. He sawed all the way up, the fabric falling open, her woolen shift the only barrier between his gaze and her breasts.

The shift lasted a few more seconds.

"Look at those!" Martin crowed, leering lustily.

"Those are nice indeed," Desmond said reluctantly.

Martin reached out and groped her, testing the abundant swell of a breast, his touch making her recoil against the tree.

"Please," she sobbed, the tears from before brimming over her eyes, spilling down her cheeks.

His fingers dug in cruelly, drawing a gasp from her.

"Please..."

A howl rose over the treetops.

"Martin," Desmond spoke up.

"What?"

"You didn't hear that? There could be wolves about."

Martin scoffed, attention still on her, his other hand groping her other breast.

"It wasn't close to us. We're fine."

"Whatever, just c'mon, make it quick."

Martin scoffed again, and then leaned down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth.

"Please!" she cried out, unable to move much with the tree at her back. "Please stop!"

Her frantic eyes went to Desmond, who was busy looking around, shifting nervously.

"Please..."

Martin slurped at her nipple. A shiver ran over her, pleasure mixed in with the disgust and fear, her body unable to discern between good and bad.

The hand holding the knife darted under her skirt. She wailed softly, trying to shove him away. The attempt only made him laugh. He squeezed harder at her breast with his other hand, crushing the lush flesh between his fingers. Pain erupted, but another shiver slipped along her, pleasure still mixed in, the overwhelming sensations leaving her eyes rolling.

The cold steel of the knife pressed at her panties. The wail became several short, halting gasps. She bucked, trying to slap his hand away.

"What did I say about staying still?"

"Please!"

The knife slid deftly inside her panties. She forced herself to relax.

"Good girl," he murmured, the praise adding to her disgust.

A careful, thorough slice and an insistent tug tore her panties, the rent fabric falling off her, leaving her sex vulnerable. Martin dropped the knife and rubbed there, his touch making her buck again.

"No, no, no, no, no, please!"

Another howl sounded.

"Martin, hurry up," Desmond spoke up.

"How's it feel, love?" Martin asked her, ignoring him, his fingers stroking steadily.

She whimpered, more shivers running over her, partly from panic and disgust, but partly from pleasure. The hand at her breast caught the nipple between two fingers, tweaking and rolling, adding to those shivers. She looked away, unwilling to watch her body betray her.

A dark figure slunk through the trees, occasional shafts of moonlight piercing the forest canopy to illuminate its massive silhouette. Her breath caught in her throat from a sudden spike of fear.