Burning Forest

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

A faint sound reached her ears, jolting her awake. Her heart pounded, and she listened intently. The sound returned—the crackling of branches being touched, the crunching of leaves underfoot. It could just be an animal; if it were a bear clumsily emerging from the forest, she would feel much safer. Her greatest fear was—him—Conrad. She lay motionless, hoping it wasn't him. She pleaded with heaven that even if it was him, the leaves would hide her from his sight.

Please, please, please. She didn't know who she was pleading with; she didn't believe in God, she never prayed—not even in the most dangerous moments of her life.

The footsteps on the gravel grew clearer; there was no way she could be mistaken. But were they human footsteps?

She couldn't tell. She tried to remain still, even if she couldn't achieve absolute stillness, she had to be extremely still, breathing slowly and carefully, so that no one, no animal, could hear the air going in and out of her nostrils, so that the inhalation and exhalation wouldn't cause her chest to rise and fall, so that the leaves covering her wouldn't rustle. The footsteps drew closer, then closer still. She was now certain it was human footsteps. One step, one step, and another, the next step would probably be on her. She was afraid; if he really stepped on her, she would be discovered. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. Each tiny breath was a struggle to suppress; she feared she would succumb to the torment of fear and scream. The footsteps stopped, silence—and then more silence. Could all of this be just her hallucination? Fear was slowly, drop by drop, gnawing at her heart. She waited, waited for him to leave or step on her, even if it was just stepping on her, she couldn't wait any longer; if she waited any longer, she would go mad.

"Get up, Defen."

A deafening roar echoed in her mind—his voice. No, no, no, no. It couldn't be. If I stayed still, he would walk away. He would think it was just a pile of leaves, and then he would walk away.

"Come on, Defen, get up."

A hand suddenly plunged into the foliage, grabbed her arm, pulled her up, and then released her. She stood trembling in the darkness, her adrenaline surging with fear, soaring to the point of utter devastation. She had never felt so desperate, never felt so panicked, but she did not cry.

"Defen."

His voice, as always, indifferent, gentle yet with a hint of seduction, and that slightly mocking tone of pleasure. She knew that the moment his voice uttered her name, she had become a prisoner again—his exclusive prisoner.

He took a step closer, and she did not retreat. Like the haunting nightmare of her childhood, when the terrifying monster drew near, she found her ankles bound to concrete, unable to move. He reached out, and she didn't flinch. He gently cupped her face, bringing his lips to her ear. She heard him say, "You need to know," he whispered, "how disappointed I am—that you ran away before I could even have you. Bad girl, Defen," his warm breath brushing against the downy hairs of her ear, sending a shiver of heat through her, "run away before I can explore that virgin's honeypot."

He released her, taking a step back. The clouds parted, and the clear moonlight shone upon them both. He had a devilishly handsome face; he was a fallen angel, claiming the right to rule the underworld, taking pleasure in tormenting vile souls.

"Defen, listen to me, take off your shirt."

She was powerless to run away, unable to disobey his command, as if under a spell, her body controlled by his will. Perhaps she was too exhausted, after all, she hadn't eaten for days. Numbly, she turned her shirt over her head and pulled it off, her arms naturally covering her chest. His strong hands grasped her slender wrists, forcing her arms down.

“Don’t hide anything from me.”

He stared at her bare breasts, his gaze cruel rather than lustful, forcing her to experience her nakedness.

He unzipped his pants and took out his penis. He gently said, stroking himself, “Take off your skirt.”

She stared blankly at him, unable to think about what he was about to do. After several seconds, she unzipped her skirt, letting it slide limply to her feet. His penis was already hard in his hand. He said, “Now, take off your underwear.”

She obediently pulled her underwear down to her ankles, taking a step forward, freeing herself from the last ties of her underwear and skirt.

“Come here, let me take a good look at you.”

She took a half-step forward.

He looked at her, rubbing his erection. Her face was pale with fear and humiliation. The moonlight cast a pale blue hue on her areolas, and the chill made her nipples stand out, slightly upturned. Her flat stomach rose and fell with her rapid breathing.

His naked genitals were unhidden by pubic hair, the smooth edge of his labia barely visible, his legs defensively closed.

He slowly removed his shirt. She hadn't expected his naked body to look so strong, even muscular; his tall frame always gave the illusion of being slightly thin when clothed. Realizing his strength only intensified her fear.

"Are you wet?" he asked.

"Wet?" She pretended not to understand.

"Yes, my love. Is your little flower wet?"

She was overwhelmed by an indescribable sense of shame and fear.

"No," she whispered weakly.

"Check it for me."

"Wh-what?"

"Put your fingers into that little mouth down there and tell me if you're wet."

His slightly magnetic voice always swayed her thoughts; as if by instinct, his right hand moved from his side towards his genitals, his legs remaining tightly closed.

“You can’t get it in like that, can you? You have to open your legs a little bit first. Come on, listen to me.” She opened her legs a little, and her fingers slowly probed inside. As if hypnotized, her index finger disappeared into her body.

“Come on, let me see.”

She blankly stretched out her right hand to him, but to him it looked like it was hanging by her side. He leaned forward, grabbed her wrist with his left hand, pulled her hand in front of him, and then extended his right index finger, the pad of his finger gently gliding over hers, smiling as he noticed the wetness clinging to it. He maliciously stuck out the tip of his tongue and licked his fingertip—tasting her flavor. He didn’t let go of her wrist, and used his right hand to pry her fingers together, leaving only the index finger that had entered her body. He took it all into his mouth, then slowly pulled it out, sucking the juices off it.

“Mmm—celestial 'desire' dew. I’ll find some time later to taste it thoroughly again—later.”

He stared at her, savoring her fear, not missing any subtle changes in her expression.

“Now, lean your back against the tree.”

“Conrad, please. I don’t want to.”

He remained unmoved, smiling mockingly.

“Please, Conrad.”

“Shh—my love, you’re always like this: saying one thing and thinking another. You and I both know that you like to keep stubbornly saying that it’s not what you want, so that it will eventually become what you want.”

“No, Conrad, please, you scare me.” A single, warm tear rolled down her pale cheek, making her look pitiful.

“Lean your back against the tree.” The smile vanished suddenly, his face filled with impatience, and she became even more afraid.

She trembled as she backed away until her back pressed against the rough, hard trunk. He leaned forward slowly, his naked body covering hers, ruthlessly pressing her against the trunk. The skin on her back felt as if the texture of the tree trunk had been branded into it, and with his body pressing down on her front, she couldn’t move.

He suddenly grabbed the back of her left knee, lifted her entire leg, and forced his body between her wide-open legs. Her naked female genitals were vulnerablely displayed before his erect penis, the two heat sources rubbing against each other as she weakly struggled.

The sudden panic almost made her faint.

She couldn't feel his body move. She only felt his thick, hot rod slithering and rubbing against her vulva. His lips were on her ear again.

"I've been waiting a long time."

His hard penis slid, the tip moving up and down, parting her labia, gently pressing against her flesh. She trembled between fear and excitement.

"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."

Downward, downward, downward, the base, the shaft, the head, grinding against her clitoris, the nest between her soft, moist opening, slid down. She shuddered; the tip penetrated a little, just a little, then emerged, tightly rubbing against the tight entrance of her passage.

"The wait is about to end."

A searing pain struck; he forcefully entered, completing the first wave of conquest with deep, powerful thrusts. Her entrance was breached, the pain unbearable; she pounded on him, trying to push him away. Helplessly, her lower body was already pierced by the hot iron, forced to accept and swallow his deep, powerful thrusts. She cried out, begging him to stop. He really stopped.

The unbearable pain suddenly vanished, and a few seconds later, as he gently lifted his hips again, it felt as if a blazing lamp had been implanted inside her, radiating endless warmth at the very core of her body, at the point where he entered and exited. His insertion and withdrawal saved her, healing the pain he had inflicted, extinguishing her fear and hunger. It transformed her back into the girl she had been a few days ago, allowing her to experience the exhilarating happiness and ultimate pleasure of being a woman. He thrust in and out of her repeatedly, penetrating back and forth. Her hands, which had initially resisted, were now wrapped around his neck. His movements were gentle and tender, his hips rhythmically probing her burning lower body. She felt her entire being melt for him, a sharp heat wave washing over her wetness, her abdomen, her thighs, and her whole body.

He moved his face slightly away, gazing at her. Moonlight filtered through the canopy of the periwinkle, casting dappled shadows. She also looked at him, his handsome face shifting in her pupils, from a soft, feminine angelic face to a cruel, demonic one.

The man inside her suddenly hardened and thickened, as hard as an iron rod, fiercely thrusting into her burning, soft passage. He pounded deeply, as if trying to tear her apart. She sobbed in pain, begging him to stop. But the more desperate her cries, the more fervent her pleas, the more brutally he thrust in and out, filling her completely again and again. The excruciating pain and terror made her scream, and he roared with pleasure, ejaculating a torrent of hot fluid…

Covered in sweat, she awoke with a whimper from her dream, her body still trembling. Viciousness, brutality, and cold-bloodedness were Conrad's true nature. Everything he had done and intended to do to her. Even now, in her most hungry and vulnerable moment, he didn't forget to haunt her dreams like a ghost, to do that to her. The dream was too real. For a moment, hunger triggered a sharp pain in her stomach, and she almost thought it was him who had done it, that it was the wound he had inflicted, that he wanted to pierce and crush every part of her body…

She wanted to stand up, to keep going, to get as far away from that wooden house as possible, to find a safe place—she was certain she could find it. But she was also afraid of going astray or getting hurt in the dark. For a long time, she just lay there—crying—until her tears ran dry. She didn't want to sleep; she was afraid of dreaming, but exhaustion enveloped her like the curtain of night, and her consciousness gradually blurred. She fell asleep again, this time a dreamless slumber.

[The End]

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