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Message-ID: <63542asstr$1443625828@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} Little Red ( Chapter 1)
Lines: 345
Date: Wed, 30 Sep 2015 11:10:28 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


 
Little Red (MF,  fantasy)
 
 The  woods were dark as the young lady approached the tall dark trees.  
The  cloudy sky and occasional sprinkles, foretelling a not so pleasant walk.  
 Stepping between the opening in the trees, the path narrow with brush to 
either  side, the basket now held close to her torso, not swinging as it was 
in the open  fields.  The rain had come heavy as the last minute of grassl
ands, now gave  way to the trunks of the gnarled trees. 
    Was  the forest haunted.  Little Red Riding Hood didn't think this was  
true;  but scary it was, especially when it was cloudy and very little  
light broke through the cover of leaves.  The wind howling behind her,  blowing 
down the path.  The rain not as heavy, as the leaves did serve to  stop the 
raindrops as well as sunlight.  Being autumn, though the leaves  now fell 
to the path, wet with moisture and still crisp with color.
    Alana  (her real name wasn't Little Red Riding Hood,  just the outfit 
she liked  best) eyes wide as she walked the carpeted path,  shivering with 
the wet  clothes and the darkening woods.  The opening to the fields now lost 
in the  twists and turns of the path.  Clothes that were fine when she 
started this  visit to Grandma's, now were not sufficient to keep her warm.  The 
red  hooded cape, was very pretty and bright; but soaked with water, it sat 
damply on  her head and shoulders.  The wetness soaking to the shoulders of 
her white  peasant dress.  Her bodice open and showing the tops of her 
creamy  white breasts.  Her shift underneath also starting to absorb  moisture.  
The rain not as heavy under the cover of the trees; but still  dripping 
with water and wet leaves falling to the ground.  Her legs covered  to her 
knees with her bright red stockings; but being a little bratty and  naughty,  
her dress did not make it to the tops of her knees.  It  ended a few inches 
above, showing her nice white thighs. Her sensible  walking shoes, seeming out 
of place with the rest of her outfit.
    The  napkin over the basket for her grandma, damp.  The bread and 
cheese  and vegetables from the garden somewhat protected.  The wineskin of  
homemade vino, hanging on her left side.
    Wondering  now, if she should turn back and run through the rain to her 
house, or continue  and walk through the drizzle to her grandma's.  She 
would stop and maybe  wait it out; if it wasn't so cold and windy and she so 
wet.  The fact that  it was also getting dark, didn't help her reasoning.
    Holding  herself tight, wrapping the cape around her shivering 
shoulders, she moved  forward, the bounce gone from her step.  In the darkening 
gloom, the  creatures in the woods were starting to come out and move about.  
Noises  common and familar, now became scary and eeiry. 
    Alana  wondering why she is still  moving forward instead of turning 
back; but the  thought of the warm fire awaiting her at the cottage and maybe 
tasting some of  the wine and food, kept her moving forward.
    The  walk of less then 5 miles now long and slow as the leaves have 
become slick  on the floor and branches fall across the path from above. The 
autumn storm  has become a fierce storm as the wind whistles through the 
trees, the moans of  branches bending in the wind and now the subdued flash of a 
lightning strike and  then the rumbling thunder, pushing the woods close 
about the girl.
    As  she walks along she hears a splashing and then around a twist in 
the woods, she  sees a man, hunkered into his cloak, shielding his body as 
best he can from the  elements.  Eyes peer from his raised hood, his voice loud 
in the gloomy  woods,  "good day to you girlie, tis a poor day to be out 
and about.   Are ye lost?"  Alana nods to the man as they approach, and  
replies,  "tis a wretched day and no I am not lost.  Just on my way to  my 
grandma's"  
    As  the man stops in front of Alana, his cowl opens and his bearded  
face, breaks into a rueful smile.  "If you granny lives the other side  of the 
crick, you will not be able to cross till this storm breaks, as it  is 
flowing over its sides."  There is a leanto a little ways up the road to  your 
left side.  A small path with lead you to a small glen there you  might find 
shelter for the night.  Me. Thinks that you might  want to turn around and 
go home.  I will walk with you, as I am going that  way."
    "I  thank you for your offer; but I will continue on to my granny, the  
crick might be down by the time I get there.  Good day to you", Alana  says 
as she continues down the path.  The man watches her for a minute of  so 
till she is out of sight.  Alana  looked around to see the  man's gaze on her 
retreating back.  The man was pleasant enough;  but his eyes dropped as he 
talked to her bosom, the clothe plastered to the  mounds of her breasts.  
Looking down, Alana can see her nipples poking  at the material, cold and wet.  
Pulling her cape around her tightly,  she walks along, feet now wet as 
water seeps into her shoes.
    Walking  along she notes a few small paths to her left and also to her 
right.   Wondering that she never paid attention to their existence before, 
she walked  along further, till the sound of running water, announces the 
closeness of the  stream.  The badness about that is there is no noise of the 
stream running  across the road, till you are crossing the planking.  As 
Alana turns  the bend in the road, it is a small river that greets her eyes.  
The  planking is missing and the stream that is normally less then 6 feet 
wide is now  10 or 15 and deep and flowing very fast.
    Leaning  against a tree, she lifts a leg and pulls off her shoe and 
then hose and then  does the same for the other foot.  Goose bumps raise on her 
calves and  thighs, as she tentatively sticks a foot in the raging water.  
"Oh my  gosh", she screams as the cold water washes her foot.  Another foot 
in the  water and then step by step into the stream.  As it approaches her 
knees,  she lifts her dress, a futile gesture as she is well soaked to the 
skin from the  rain.  Another step and the water is above her knees splashing 
her  thighs.  Another expletive and now she is just able to keep her feet as 
the  water rushes past.  Holding her skirt up to her waist, she steps 
forward  again, and the push of water, has her staggering a step of two deeper.  
Now  it is past mid thigh.
    Looking  across in the waning light, she sees that she is only a third 
of the way  across.  Looking back, it seems to be still rising.  Hastily she 
turns  and wades on numb legs back to the shore.  Water almost  taking her  
legs from her in its rush.  Standing on wet soggy land again, she watches  
in frustration the water.  Logs and branches now sweeping past in the  
torrent.  Tears, wet her eyes as she stands, sodden, cold and lonely.   Choices 
quite limited, she turns around and looks down the forest  lane. 
    Darkness  is now closing rapidly and the lightning strikes and wind, 
dropping branches and  limbs in the forest alongside of her.  Sweeping around, 
she leans again to  a tree trunk and puts her shoes on after wiping her 
muddy feet in the edge of  the stream.  Her whole being is now wet and cold.  
Shoulders slumped  inward, Alana heads back the way that she came.  The trip 
back will  not be pleasant, not that this direction was any picnic.  
Giggling at the  thought, she plods back along the path. 
    The  thought of being in the woods in the dark, was not a very pleasant 
 thought.  She might as well look for this clearing with the leanto.   As 
she walked she checked each animal path on the left; but could not find  
anything after walking a short time along it.  Frustration at being lied  to, 
turned to a cackle in her throat as she realizes it that going this  direction 
the path is on the right.  Stupid girl, she thinks to  herself.  
Backtracking, again now looking to the left, she found a path and  shortly it opened 
to a small clearing with a leanto at the back.  In the  dim light, it would 
have been easy to miss, looking across the clearing, as  brush covered the 
front, except for a doorway.  A low wall of logs at the  front. 
    The  smell of the fir boughs, fragrant even in the rain.  Parting them, 
she  stepped into a three sided rough hewn log leanto.  A high ceiling and 
a  rock pit towards the front, made it a comforting site.  A pile of  
kindling and logs in a corner and a flint and steel and a pile of shavings on a  
log make the welcome most bearable.
    Taking  off her wet hooded cape and hanging it on a peg in the wall, 
Alana precedes  to take shavings and then build a tower of kindling over them. 
 Striking  the flint and steel, sparks fly towards the shavings.  Three 
strikes and a  wisps of smoke rise from the pile and then little flames lap at 
the  kindling.  Once she has that going, she adds small logs and then  
bigger ones to the fire.  Smoke rises to the roof and then out a hole  in the 
ceiling.  The patter of rain against the walls and the sizzle as  rain drops 
fall into the fire.
    The  leanto is well lit, basic; but very welcome on a cold wet night.   
Leaning into the heat, Alana feels the warmth take some of her aches from  
her body.  Sticking her feet forward she warms her toes and a tingle of  
feeling runs prickle through them.  Looking straight ahead, she can see the  
reflection of flames on the tree trunks across the clearing.  The path, a  
tiny gap in the brush the grew thickly around the clearning.  Looking  around 
the leanto, she sees a mattress of dry  boughs where the past  occupants must 
have slept. 
    In  a corner and old blanket and some earthenware.  Was this the home 
of  someone, or just a spot for a traveler to relax for the night.  A burst 
of  thunder and then another and flashes of lightning seeping through the  
overhang.  A self conscience laugh, at her nervousness over the elements  and 
it various forms. 
    Taking  the wineskin from her shoulder and putting it next to the 
basket near the  fire, Alana, shyly looks out to the clearing.  Kneeling in front 
of  the fire, she looks down, the warmth of the fire putting heat into her  
cheeks, she undoes the lacing to her bodice.  Reaching around, she then  
undos the lacing on the back of her dress.  Sliding it down around her  knees, 
she stands and steps out of her dress.  Her shift, pure white;  but 
plastered to her skin, reveals more cleavage then her dress. The  shift stops 
halfway up or down her thighs.  The soft white flesh, red  with the dancing 
flames.  Walking to the corner, she picks up a few sticks  and pushing them into 
the ground around the rock circle, she spreads her cape  and dress and 
stockings.  Barefooted with flashing legs that are quickly  warming, as the 
leanto picks up and retains heat.
    Reaching  into the basket, she pulls out bread and breaks off a piece 
and nibbles at the  morsel.  Pulling the cork from the wineskin, a swallow of 
liquid and  warmth from within, starts through her veins.  A couple of more 
 swallows and  more bread and cheese, start to fill her stomach.
    A  chill and shiver, a reminder of the soggy shift and girdle.  
Kneeling  in front of the fire, she lifts up the shift and warm air circulates 
under the  tented material.  Exposed, her red girdle of soft linen.  A giggle as 
 she thinks of this delicate item of attire.  Brief and naughty to her 
mind;  but worth the money she saved to buy it.  Here she is exposing her body 
to  the creatures of the forest.  Pulling the shift over her head, she puts 
it  on a pole and then standing, she slides the red girdle down her  thighs.
    For  a moment she stands naked in front of the fire, framing the door 
opening.   Then quickly, she sits down in front of the fire, the blanket her  
seat.  Sitting legs in front shoulder length apart, cocked at the  knees.  
Her pubic area exposed to the heat,  a wisp of trim hair above  her slit.  
Something gleaming at her lips.  Small gold rings piercing  her labia.  Small 
chain welded together, keeping the rings close.  A  small lock, more 
intricate then sturdy holding the chain  ends.    
    Sipping  at the wine, occasionally standing to bring more wood to the 
fire, Alana lapses  into a comfortable numb; but warm state.   The long 
afternoon and  evening receding in her mind.
    The  thunder and lightning and rain and wind and the sounds of the 
woods, not as  frightening in the comfort of the fire and strong wine.  Eyes now 
heavy  with the strain and warmth of fire and wine.  Standing, she moves a 
pile of  wood nearby and unfolds the blanket.  Lying down, she pulls the 
blanket  around her body and lies facing the fire.  The heat seeps through her 
body  and drags her into a deep sleep.
    Eyelids  heavy with sleep, a noise pulls her eyes open.  Sitting by the 
side of the  fire is the man that she met on the road earlier that evening. 
 Legs  crossed in front of him, he is looking down at her blanket, where 
her legs white  and red in the flames and left breast lays on the blanket, 
bare to his  sight.  Grasping the blanket ends tightly, Alana pulls it around 
her  flesh, and clumsily pulls herself into a sitting position.  Fears fills 
her  eyes as the man reaches up and tips his cap and says: "  a goodnight my 
 lady".  A smile crosses his face, and his eyes gleam in the  firelight.
    "Sorry  to bother you; but it is not a night fit for man or beast.  I 
thought to  avail myself of this dry spot.  Any maybe you will share your 
fire and some  of your wine."  Steam from his wet clothes attesting to the 
wetness of the  night.
    Reaching  for the wineskin, her soft white are, a contrast to the thick 
dark  blanket.  Fingering touching at the exchange, the man tip his head 
back and  drains a long swallow of wine.  A sound of satisfaction escapes his  
lips.  "This is a fine night after all."  Alana, still sitting quietly  
across from the man.  His eyes meeting hers across the fire, and then his  eyes 
pointedly lowering, appraising her blanket draped body.  Flashes of  white 
exposed, quickly covered as she pulls the blanket tighter.
    Standing  the man picks her clothes off the sticks around the fire.  
Folding them one  after another, his fingers caressing the red girdle and then 
setting them in the  corner.  Alana, wary as he moves around in front and 
then behind her.   Fear deep in her mind and tears forming in her eyes.  
Taking another  swallow of wine, he pulls off his cloak and places it on a stick 
then  his boots and hose.  Pulling his shirt out out of his breeches, he  
pulls it over his head and spreads it to the heat of the fire.  "There is  no 
other blanket," he asks?  Looking around he undoes his black belt and  
unties the string on his breeches.  "Seems I have no blanket unless you  share 
yours with me."  His pants fall to his ankles and loin clothe is all  he has 
left to wear. 
    Tears  now running down her cheeks, Alana, shivers in her blanket.  Not 
 wanting to watch, but drawn to the man's lean body, her eyes widen as he 
unknots  the loincloth and it falls to the ground.  His semi-erect penis bobs 
he  stands for a few seconds watching the woman.  Then kneeling down in 
front  of her, he leans over, and his hands grip the blankets ends.  Pulling 
them  apart, he pushes the woman backwards.   Laying on her back, hands now  
trying to cover her breasts and groin, the woman looks into the man's fevered 
 eyes. 
    She  had never seen an adult males cock, only that of young toddlers.  
A long  scream of terror escapes her lips, as the man reaches into his boot 
and pulls  out a long sharp dagger.  Leaning forward, he puts the knife to 
her navel  and then slides the blade up her stomach, between her breasts, 
till the blade  pushes at the soft flesh of her under chin.  The blade flat 
edge across her  cheek, brushes the tear away.  Alana shaking with fear and  
terror.
    "Lay  still", he commands.  Rising he walks to her clothes and with his 
knife  cuts the lacing from her bodice.  Alana watches as he kneels down 
next  to her.  His eyes again viewing the length of her body.  Reaching down  
a hand under her back and leg, he rolls her unto her stomach.  He roughly  
pulls her hands behind her and uses the lacing to tie her hands tightly 
behind  her back.  Whimpering behind her lips,  they open to a scream as his  big 
hand smacks loudly against her soft round cheeks.  A dozen  smacks  and her 
round bottom is red. 
    Rolling  her over, his left hand slaps her cheek soundly.  Face 
exploding with the  pain.  "Do not scream again," he commands.  Eyes closed trying 
to hold  back the tears, Alana, feels the man pulling at her legs, spreading 
them  apart.  Clenching her thighs, she fights to keep them closed.  A 
sound  and then a sharp pain across her thighs, as the man's belt leaves welts 
across  her flesh.  The long scream ends and the man leans over and the 
whispers to  the woman.  "I told you not to scream again.  You will learn to obey 
 my wishes."  Taking his loincloth, he shoves it in her mouth and then with 
 one of her hose, ties it in place.  Coughing and choking the woman opens  
her eyes.  She watches as the belt  smacks across her stomach and then  her 
breasts.  Twisting and turning to evade the belt, it still falls with  
painful regularity.  Her breasts now red and her stomach and then her  thighs 
again.  " Spread your legs for me honey" he commands. Tears welling  from her 
eyes and chest heaving, she still clenches her thighs closed.  The  belt 
stripes her breasts again and then strikes across her mound and  pubes.  Alana 
jerks with the pain of the leather. 
    Rising  up the man rummages in a corner of the leanto and comes back 
with leather thongs  and some pegs of wood.  Taking a rock from the fire 
circle, he uses it to  drive the peg deep into the ground.  Then another one on 
the other side of  her feet, three foot apart.  Tieing a leather throng 
around each ankle, he  pulls her legs to the side till one ankle is tied securely 
to a peg.   Alana, legs still pulled tight together, watching as the man 
reaches into the  fire with a small branch and then pulls it out sticks it 
between her thighs,  just above the knees.  The burning faggot scorched the 
fine hair on her  thighs, and a gasp of pain from her gag and her legs spread 
open to escape the  fire.
    Using  this moment of weakness, the man grabbed the free ankle and 
pulled it to the peg  and tied the leather to the stake.  Finally he had the 
woman spread for his  convenience.  Slowly he pulled her body towards him until 
her knees were  raised.  Exposed and vulnerable, the tender flesh of the 
woman.   Leaning forward his hand reach out and pulls at her outer lips.  
Leaning  all the way over, his body touching hers at the groin.  His hot hard 
cock,  touching her soft lips and thighs.  His large hands reach out and 
caress  her nipples, slowly stroking till they harden into little nubs.  Then his 
 big hands reach down and grabbing the soft mounds of flesh, tighten and 
squeeze  and pull at her tits till she is being lifted off the ground by her  
breasts.  Head shaking and moans escaping the soiled gag.  Slowly he  lowers 
her contorting body to the ground and with a savage twist to her nipples  
releases her.
    Now  reaching for a thong, he ties it around her neck and then drives a 
peg on the  inside holding her head tightly in place.  With effort, he is 
able to  secure a leather string around each breast, the soft flesh turning a 
deep red  and then purple.
    Surveying  his young prisoner, he is pleased as his cock beats a tattoo 
on her thighs and  pubes.  Pouring wine on her groin, he leans down and 
licks at the wet  flesh.  His tongue lathing her outer lips, the tips poking at 
the secured  inner flesh.  Taking his knife, he twists it at the locket of 
her chastity  chain and with a pinch of flesh, broke the delicate band.  
Pulling on the  rings, his tongue now pushes at the outer lips and then the 
inner lips.   His teeth and tongue pulling and gnawing and poking at the soft  
tissue.
    Alana,  writhing in pain and also in some pleasure, wet with wine and 
excitement, lay  back staked to the ground; but able to seeing the swaying of 
the man cock.   It was long and thick in the shadows and flickering fire 
light.  Not  wanting to watch; but her eyes drawn to the weaving head, shaped 
like a  mushroom.  The sack below swaying and then bumping against her thigh 
as he  lowered himself and the head of his shaft pushed against the wet 
flesh of her  pussy.
    Eyes  squeezing shut as the head pushed between her lips.  Easing in 
and then  separating the inner lips,  A pain and then it slides further in, 
her body  filling up and then accommodating the huge cock.  Slowly it sunk in  
further, and deeper.  Alana felt full and stuffed and still the huge prick  
sunk deeper.  With a push, she felt his balls slap into her ass.   Pulling 
out quickly and then pounding deep again.  Her ankles being pulled  against 
the unyielding stakes and her neck choking as her shoulders push into  the 
stakes. 
    Alana's  thighs quivering with the strain of being pulled apart and at 
the same time of  the involuntary straining to close around the intruder.  
Her velvety tunnel  adjusting and coating with lube to allow the smooth push 
of the monster  cock.  Again and again the long shaft penetrates deep into 
the warm moist  flesh.  Alana can feel her legs clenching and pussy squeezing 
at the  mushroom head and her hips thrusting at his groin. 
    The  man's  sucking at the swollen flesh of Alana's darkened breasts.  
The  flesh sensitive to the touch,  pain and pleasure mixed as one.  His  
cock now moving faster to the growing need to spill his seed.  A long  squirt 
and then others as the white cum filled and spilled out of the tightly  
pressed flesh.  Long slow strokes, the sucking of flesh the sound breaking  into 
the crackle of the fire.  Alana still pushing at the shrinking  flesh.  A 
moan of loss, as the shaft slides out of her hole.  The  feeling....pain and 
pleasure; but not quite completed. 
    The  man reached over and pulling his knife from the ground, sliced the 
leather at  Alana's breasts.  A feeling of relief and then pain, as the 
blood was  released to flow again.  Pushing up, trying to massage her breasts 
with  air.  The pain causing her torso to writhe.  Back arched.  The  man 
smiling at the woman's dilemma of pain and pleasure.  The swollen lips,  aching 
for release.  Taking the handle of his knife,  he inserted it  into her 
pussy.  The handle not quite round but accomodating in size to  make her walls 
grip.  Slowly he played with the woman, pushing in and  pulling out, rubbing 
her unhooded clit with his thumb. 
    Again  her body pushing at the dagger, breathing ragged, chest heaving. 
 The man  toying, holding the dagger still, as the woman pushes trying to 
feel it deep in  her.  Then he fast and hard, she rides and feels her body 
shaking,  quivering.  Legs clenching as the orgasm shakes her being.  His 
thumb  hard and pinching on her clit,  moaning loud through the gag.  Slowly  
she subsides and looks at the cruel hand of pleasure.  The smile pure evil  as 
the man pulls her gag off and offer the dagger handle to her mouth to clean 
 his tool.
    Grabbing  the winesack, a long swallow and he retires to a corner to 
sleep.........
    
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