Author's Warning: This story is a modern retelling of the original tale and some readers might find particular elements of this story extremely disturbing. Read on if you dare. Constructive criticism is welcome.
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Samantha stood naked in front of the full length mirror in her room and frowned. She looked too short, she mused. Her boobs were too big. My goodness, they seemed to grow larger everyday! Her butt wasn't helping either. They jutted out behind her like two footballs squashed together.
Well, at least her skin was nice. It was clear white and smooth and seemed to glow. Her hair was a luxurious blonde mane, almost eighties looking but rich and bouncy. People said she looked pretty. She thought her eyes were huge but a few had said they were very appealing. It made her look like a Disney character in a very cute way. She also had a small pert nose and full, pouty lips. Some rude people, especially girls, said she looked like a slut. No one believed she was a virgin.
Samantha was nineteen years of age and still a virgin. Well, almost. The reason wasn't due to her own moral fibre but due instead to her mother's near fanatical catholic upbringing. Her mom had drilled it into her that sex before marriage was evil and should be avoided at all costs. She was so terrified that her daughter might get deflowered that she began to make regular, invasive inspections of Samantha's body when she hit her teens. The young girl was too embarrassed to tell her friends at school that sometimes her mom would drag her into the bathroom, strip off her clothes and minutely explored her genitals. She was even more embarrassed to confess that she actually enjoyed these inspections because that was the only chance she got to get her body touched by another person apart from herself.
Eventually her mother's paranoia reached a climax when she decided the only way to prevent her daughter from being deflowered by some strange man was by doing it herself. One night Samantha was dragged into her mother's room and forced on the bed. She was quickly relieved of her clothes and found her wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts with her underwear. Her mom then took off her own clothes and Samantha was shocked at how voluptuous her mother looked with her heavy breasts and long, pink nipples. Then she produced a long, weird object which she was too find out later was a massive dildo.
That was a long, painful but amazingly fulfilling night. She had screamed a lot and her mother had pressed close to her, sweat pouring down their bodies, the hand holding the dildo constantly moving, her mother's lips against her ear, teasing, nipping and whispering for her to be quiet. But Samantha had the impression her mother was enjoying her shrieks of pleasure and pain and was dining off her humiliation.
She couldn't count the number of climaxes that had been ripped out of her. Or the number of times she had passed out. Needless to say she was bedridden for a week after that night. Her mother owned her body and soul after that.
Samantha started to put on some clothes: lacy, red underwear, a red half-top and red tights. She eventually pulled on a blood-red hooded sweat shirt. What could she say? She loved red. Ever since she saw the stain on the snow white sheets of her mother's bed the colour had stuck to her brain.
Red for defilement, red for lust, red for pain, red for pleasure and red for rage. Because she hated her mother even though she was her slave. Mostly because she was her slave.
She had hardly known her father. He left when she was still a baby. Her mother had said he was a very bad man. A very, very bad man. She said he had abused her and beat her constantly. He had never been able to nail down a job and was always drinking. Then the young women started disappearing. The media made a lot of noise about it. Then somehow the police wanted to question her father. Then her father ran away and was never seen again. The girls were never found.
They called him the wolf because of his wild eyes and black bearded face. He had become an urban legend. A spook story you told your little girls anytime they got out of line. Be a bad girl and the wolf will get you.
Anyway, Samantha couldn't be bothered. She had never known him and she wasn't bothered by the stories. All she wanted was to meet a real man and get laid properly, not to be constantly abused by her mother. And she wasn't attracted to any of the stupid boys in her school. All of them wanted to get into her pants but she was not interested. She wanted a man in every sense of the word, a man who would treat her like a real woman and not a sex toy.
Finally Samantha put on a pair of red Converse sneakers with white soles. She gave a little spin in front of the mirror and giggled. The lady at the local grocery store called her Missy Red Riding Hood and the name had stuck. She thought it was silly but cute. She sighed and went downstairs to the kitchen.
Her mother had gone to work. Samantha didn't know what her mother did for a living but she was never around on Saturdays. It was a blessed day for Samantha which meant she had almost a full day to herself. But her mom had decided to ruin her day by deciding Samantha should visit Gran who lived out of town and deliver some medicines to her. Gran was a good looking woman in her late sixties who was still blessed with an incredible body from a lifetime at the gym. The problem was she was hooked on painkillers and other drugs and mother tried to keep her supplied in spite of her better judgement. Gran lived alone in a remote cottage at the outskirts of the village which she had refused to leave no matter how much mother begged her. She hated crowds and noise and felt comfortable in the eerie silence of the surrounding forest. Samantha thought she was cuckoo.
Samantha prepared breakfast for herself in the kitchen and sat down to eat. She planned to leave with the parcel an hour later and make the trip on her bicycle.
She heard a knock on the door and cursing slightly, left her bacon and eggs to see who it was.
The man at the door stared down at her and for some reason a delicious shiver crawled down her spine. He was very tall: he towered over her and was powerfully built. His well defined upper body was acutely accentuated by the pale, white, short sleeve shirt he wore that was open at the neck by about two buttons, his chest hair peeking out. He also had on a smart pair of blue, washed denim pants and a scruffy but very clean pair of canvas shoes. His hair was dark grey and streaked with white at the temples and he sported a thick, curly, grey-black beard. Samantha put his age at about fifty something. However what arrested her the most were his eyes. They were pitch black and seemed to have bright, gold specks like smouldering embers of a dying fire. They were cold, watchful, predatory and utterly ferocious. Samantha thought they were sexy as hell. She immediately felt her honey pot start to melt and she squeezed her thighs together.
"I'm sorry" he drawled, "Is your mother in?"
"N-no" she stammered, "Who are you?"
"Oh, sorry, dear, I'm a friend of hers. I just came into town." He stuck out a hand and Samantha felt a thrill as she touched his rough, calloused palm. "What's your name, dear?"
"Samantha" she said shyly.
"Ah, pretty name" he said, he eyes glittering. Samantha didn't notice he had been inching forward until he was totally inside and now she couldn't shut the door if she wanted to. He was now very close and her huge chest was level with his stomach. She gasped as he pushed closer and their bodies were now touching. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her inside. She stepped backwards and he came in, shut the door behind him and locked it.
"What... what are you doing?" she mumbled as he boxed her into a corner. His eyes seemed to hold her in a hypnotic trance as his hands felt up her back and her exceptionally wide hips. She could feel his breath on the top of her head as he pulled her closer, his body squashing against hers. She moaned as his finger travelled down her spine and traced her rump. He bent his head lower and started kissing her forehead and the side of her neck. She grunted in pleasure and pressed herself closer. His lips nibbled at her ear.
"You're such a big girl now, Samantha" he groaned, "So much sexier than your mother." His hands grabbed her firm buttocks and roughly kneaded them. She gasped.
"I'm going to have you" he continued, "I bet you'll taste delicious with your skin being so smooth and succulent. Just like pork chops."
