Little Red Riding Hood

The heavy curtains billowed across the darkening room, filling and then collapsing as though the room were drawing breath. The air inside was still, staid. Streaks of gold flashed against the dull wooden floorboards only to be quickly smothered in black as the drapes swung back again. The weathered shutters quivered against the sides of the old cottage, disturbed by the sudden gusts that had come with the setting of the sun.

The girl hesitated at the door. She nervously pushed back a loose tendril of her chestnut hair, carefully tucking it beneath her velvet hood. The floorboards creaked as she shifted her weight uncertainly from one foot to the other. She finally persuades her feet to move from the doorway and she treads quietly to the low table by the window. She set down the bottle of wine and cake that she had been carrying, along with the freshly picked flowers she had gathered. The heavy breathing coming from underneath the canopy surrounding the bed gave away the presence of the person she had come to visit. She smiled, despite her unease, as she approached the bed. Drawing back the canopy she gasped as she gazed upon not the wrinkled face of her beloved grandmother but the glinting white of teeth. Before she could scream the beast had sprung, setting its claws into her ivory flesh and bearing her down upon the bed. It snapped at her face and she feebly held her hands up to protect herself. The creature lowered its jaws, grabbing at the soft red velvet of her hood and snatching it off her, releasing a cascade of chestnut hair. She turned her head to the side, pressing it into the silken tresses. She dared not look up for fear of what she might see. She felt fur brush against her neck, then a sharp jerk as the sleeve of her shirt ripped down and across her torso leaving her bare flesh exposed. She tried to scramble away, pathetically flailing her arms in a weak effort to scare the beast away. She cringed and waited for the final moments of her life to be over. Then nothing. She lay on the bed curled up into herself, drawing breath after ragged breath and… nothing. She whimpered, opening one eye to search for the attacker. There was nothing there. She began to cry tears of relief, sobbing into her hair with the shock of still being alive. She was hysterical, delirious at having somehow escaped a most gruesome death. The girl was crying so much that she didn’t notice him entering the room.

He strode silently over to the bed and looked down at the pitiful youth. Why, she couldn’t have been much older than sixteen. Something about her caught his interest and he knelt down next to the bed. He gently brushed his fingers against her tear streaked face. She stopped crying. She stared up at him with her brown doe eyes, a look of bewilderment upon her lovely face. He smiled easily at her innocence, leaning in to her and pressing the palm of his hand against her cheek. She still stared at him, some part of her distrusting of the seductive smile and smouldering grey eyes. He lowered his mouth to her neck, softly breathing onto her trembling skin. Yes, he knew that her distrust could easily be tempered. He felt her relax against him and when he gazed at her again her expression was pleading. His lips curved into a roguish smile that sent unfamiliar shivers up the young maiden’s spine. Her heart raced, even more than it had done when she was faced with death. Blood pulsed through her veins, every beat bringing with it new desires.

The stranger shifted his weight onto the bed placing a hand on either side of her as he gently leant in to kiss her. He pressed his lips against her, feverishly kissing her and exploring her mouth with his tongue. She clumsily kissed him back, uncertain at first, then more daring as she eagerly searched his mouth. He slid against her torso, his hardness pressing against the fabric of her skirt as she instinctively parted her legs. A flood of wetness spread down her thighs. He moved his lips to her neck, sucking on the firm flesh and driving his senses into a frenzy. She arched up to meet is hungry mouth, her body begging for more. He sat up for a moment, savouring the curve of her breasts against the ripped cotton of her shirt. He grabbed a fistful of her blouse and tore it from her chest making her squeal in excitement tipped with fear as her bare self was revealed. Her nipples were tight upon her breast, rising up toward him and inviting him to sample their virginal skin. And he willingly obeyed. His silvery hair fell across her collarbone as he bent to kiss the soft brown peaks, making the girl cry out at the thrilling sensation he caused. She writhed about on the bed, entwining her fingers in the linen sheets and burying her face into her hair once more in a frightening ecstasy. She made no protest as he flung up her skirt, thrusting his fingers into the core of her soaked mound. She let loose another cry, louder this time as all resistance left her. She was his. He felt it. He felt her want around his fingers as he moved them inside her and he knew that she now belonged to him. The thought aroused him even more.

He was already naked when he first came to her and there was nothing between them now. He inhaled sharply then he lunged inside her. She wailed out in pain, then again in pleasure as he moved softly inside her. She spread out her arms, exposing her vulnerable breast to his yearning mouth. He pushed further inside her, rubbing his body against hers as he moved in and out of her wet opening. He could feel her hairs tickle the base of his large prick each time he plunged into her. He began to sweat and it dripped off his body onto the porcelain skin beneath him. The young maiden was too far gone to notice or care. He increased his pace, ploughing into her harder as he pushed himself to climax. She screamed out as the first wave of orgasm ripped through her, making her clench the sheets with her fist hard enough to rip them. He reached his own climax, throwing back his head and letting loose a blood chilling howl as he released a torrent into her, filling her with his seed.

It was then that some part of the spell broke as she was lying on the bed. He crouched on the end of the bed as she laid peacefully, stretched out across the sheets. She drifted in and out of thought, her mind engulfed by fog. He arches his back and stretches his limbs one by one. She can distantly hear the click of his bones realigning themselves. She lies still, her red velvet hood discarded on the floor along with the tatters of her shirt. Her skirt is still provocatively hoisted above her hips. His seed flows out of her onto the sheets, her thighs are slick with her own wetness. She yawns, reaching out a hand to her mysterious lover who sits so quietly upon the end of the bed. She touches his hair and searches lazily for his face. Wet, a different kind of wet, greets her fingertips. She opens an eye to see what trick is being played. There he sits. She is disbelieving at first, but some deep part of her knows what she’s seeing. And she knows it will certainly be the last thing she sees. He pounces on her, pinning her down with his large paws, his sharp nails digging into her bare breast as she struggles meekly. He bends to her throat and presses against it, savouring the taste of her blood as it gushes, warm and sweet, into his eager mouth. He kisses her neck, drinking her in as he feels the last vestiges of life leaving her body. She was his. She belonged to him now, and nothing could ever change that.