Down The Rabbit Hole

  A Spicy Dark Novella

  G. Eilsel

  Copyright © 2024 G. Eilsel

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America

  This book is dedicated to anyone who wants to feel the thump of the forest floor under their feet while a masked man chases them down, knowing he's going to fuck like the devil.

  And if you’re following the count, the word "cock" is used 137 times over 150 pages this time.

  You're welcome.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Shopping list

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Books In This Series

  Books In This Series

  Shopping list

  This book does not have trigger warnings, because if you're triggered by much, you're in the wrong place. This book is filled with nothing but nastiness.

  If you're ready to read one-handed, continue. If not, don't say I didn't warn you.

  This novella is darker than my other works. The MMC is not a morally gray man with some pure underlying motives. He is morally black and finds his way to gray.

  There is no prince charming here.

  Kidnapping, exhibitionism, rough sex, impact play, marking, facials, physical violence, deep throating, irrumatio, denial, dominance/submission, anal sex, binding, praise, begging, consent non-consent, breath play, edging, whipping, pegging, primal play.

  And in traditional fashion, way more cumshots and creampies than I could count.

  Prologue

  Stefan

  The heavy hidden drawer of my desk is becoming all too familiar as I slide it open for what must be the twentieth time today. The wood gives a low rumble and grinding protest as it glides along the ancient tracks. Inside, the smell is musty and full of history, until the punch of leather hits my nostrils. My fingertips brush the supple hide as my focus wanes.

  Every day, it’s harder to tamp down the urge to put it on.

  My lips twist into a grimace as I slam the drawer shut again, causing a noisy commotion as the papers on top quiver and teeter on the edge of chaos. The first rays of dawn creep through the window, and I’ve been glued to this desk since yesterday, reading proposals I don’t give two shits about and sorting through reports that bore me to fucking tears.

  A few years ago, my father’s sudden death left me unexpectedly holding the reins of his company, a position I didn’t want but couldn’t turn down.

  If I sound apathetic, it’s because I am.

  Very.

  The man was basically a stranger to me, because my life as his son meant being raised by nannies and taught life’s lessons by tutors. All I knew about my father is that his business—my business—is worth billions, and he didn’t care who he hurt on his way up the ladder. He was a ruthless man, showing no mercy in both his personal and professional life.

  And his temper.

  That’s something I knew well.

  Often, I heard the screams echoing through the stark walls of the house. When I was young, I was convinced that they were nightmares—imaginary hauntings that existed only in my mind. As I got older, I came to realize that the women whose terror permeated these halls were nothing more than casualties of my father’s relentless pursuit of conquest.

  Trophies.

  He wasn’t a good man.

  His unexpected death at the end of the barrel of a Glock didn’t come as a shock to me. It was a fitting ending to a life characterized by recklessness and greed; just another one of his poor decisions that came back to haunt him.

  I was only twenty-four when I took over his business, a responsibility he had neglected to plan for. He possessed such an overwhelming God complex that he believed he was untouchable, immune to any harm.

  Superhuman.

  Two years passed in a blur as I struggled to carry on his work, the grueling hours leaving me with scarce time for anything else. Neglecting to invest in relationships, I buried my frustrations as my stress mounted and my impulses took a more sinister tone. With no way to channel them, my urges grew, twisting into something dark and unsettling.

  Then I found the mask.

  It seemed almost predestined, the way it entered my life. Fueled by anger from a frustrating phone call, my hands struck the desk with such power that the drawer sprung open.

  And the rest is history.

  A moment of indecision passes as I tap my fingers on the surface, but eventually, I give in and slide it open again. Although I can’t confirm that my father used it in his “activities,” it seems like the only logical explanation.

  The leather mask completely engulfs my head, with only tiny openings for my eyes, nose, and mouth, and towering ears that reach a height of eighteen inches.

  It’s a sick, deranged rabbit.

  The moment I slipped it on, a surge of unyielding power coursed through my veins.

  The drawer slams shut again, too hard this time. Papers go flying across the room and I stand, pushing my hands through my hair.

  God, I’m going to fucking explode.

  It’s been months of attempting to channel this restless energy into something productive. The stillness of the woods that surround this isolated house makes the restlessness worse. It’s impossible to find any relief.

  A few weeks ago, I realized I needed to escape the confines of these walls, and I took to an early-morning run at the park down the road. There’s an extensive gym that keeps me in excellent shape, but logic tells me that fresh air will do me good. Right?

  Wrong.

  So fucking wrong.

  Every single morning that I pound the pavement, she is there. Short brown hair, juicy fucking lips, and an ass that I could eat for dinner. The moment I saw her, I couldn’t take my eyes off her graceful stride and the way she moved. My cock was instantly hard as granite, straining against the front of my shorts. She noticed—I mean, fuck, it’d be impossible not to—sizing me up with wide eyes.

  Neither of us uttered a single word as we continued our respective journeys. The moment she vanished from my line of sight, I ducked behind a large oak tree, leaning against it as I shoved my shorts down around my thighs.

  Pure instinct fueled the flexing of my forearm as I stroked my cock, picturing her lips wrapped around me. The thought of dragging her into the woods and fucking her against a tree while she squirmed to get away had me harder than I’ve ever been.

  In my mind, I could see her resisting, her palm connecting with my face and her teeth sinking into my pecs, driving me to cum like a madman. My hand gripped tightly around my cock as it jumped and throbbed against my fingers, and my hot load splattered onto the damp ground, mingling with the dew like a steaming snowstorm. I sat there panting before I tucked myself back into my shorts and continued my run, returning to my car.

  I thought it’d be a onetime thing.

  But the next morning, there she was. Every day since, we’ve passed each other on that trail, with each exchange of glances unraveling this darkness deep inside me. It’s awakened a raw, primal longing, a powerful urge to give chase. To catch.

  To take.

  The drawer slides open yet again as I stare at the mask. Despite my hopes of being a better man than my father, I’m realizing there’s a sinister and perverse side to me that mirrors his. It’s dawning on me that no matter how fast I run, this temptation will always be right behind me.

  On my heels, beckoning me into its embrace.

  And I…

  I can’t outrun it.

  My cock is already raging as I dress in my running clothes, and my hesitation only lasts for a millisecond before I grab the supple black leather mask. I press it against my nose, inhaling deeply, before tucking it away into my pocket.

  Today, I stop fighting.

  Today, I confront my destiny.

  My pace is faster than normal this morning, sweat pouring down my overheated body as I stand in the shadows cast by the ancient trees in this grove. Heart pounding, I slide the soft leather over my face, enjoying the squeeze as the material compresses against my cheeks and forehead. The minutes tick by, and right on schedule, the distant thump of approaching footsteps reaches my ears.

  My palms sweat as I crouch against the trunk, trembling in anticipation as she gets closer. It’s dreary this morning, adding to the shadows and helping to hide my large build. Louder and louder, her steps unknowingly lead her into the arms of her fate.

  They lead her to me.

  The blackness that I’ve battled against for years engulfs me, its darkness permeating every inch of my being as I await the perfect moment. Finally, she passes my hiding spot, wearing a tight pair of baby blue leggings with a matchi
ng sports bra. Almost nothing separating me from what I want.

  Before doubt can creep in, I make a quick, decisive move, lunging forward and snaking my arm around her midsection, muzzling her scream with my hand as I pull her against me. Her cries for help are deadened, mere whispers in the wind as she struggles against me.

  It’s intoxicating, this feeling of being in complete control. Heady and overpowering, I revel in it, my rigid cock pushing against the small of her back as she fights harder. “Shh…” I whisper in her ear as her perfect ass rubs against me. The abandoned forest engulfs us as we retreat deeper, and her body is warm as it thrashes. I’m not concerned about being caught; there’s only one residence for miles.

  Mine.

  Once we’re deep enough in the thicket to make sure her voice won’t carry, I pin her to a wide tree, adjusting my grip for better control. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, “it’s just the way it has to be.” I spin her around to face me, loving the widening of her pupils as she takes me in.

  “I’m going to take my hand off your mouth, but if you scream, you’ll regret it.” Her eyes are defiant as she glares at me, not an ounce of fear in them.

  Hesitation makes me waver, but I push past my doubts.

  My palm slides off her mouth as I lean closer, caging her in as my gaze sweeps her body. Confusion hits me in full force as she tilts in, her lips against my ear.

  “You’re better than this, Stefan Beauchamp.” Her words freeze me in place, and I jerk my head back to meet her intense gaze.

  “What the fuck did you say?”

  She smiles. She fucking smiles as she leans forward again, whispering, “I said, you’re better than this… a far better man than your father ever was.”

  My heart thumps with such force that I see its beats in the corners of my vision. She’s only trying to get to me… but how the fuck does she know my name? “You’re flirting with danger, little girl.” Determined to push forward, I shake my head, as though I can knock her words from my brain.

  “You’re the one in danger, Stefan. This isn’t who you are in your heart, so I’m giving you one last chance to walk away. Turn your back on this path; don’t follow in his footsteps.”

  My growl echoes through the trees as I press my nose against hers, teeth bared like a wild animal. “You’re giving me one last chance? Sweetheart, you’re not in any position to make threats.”

  “You’re not him,” she says, her enchanting brown eyes holding me captive. Desperately wanting her words to be true.

  But it’s far too late for me.

  My fingers trap her wrists behind her back, her pulse hammering under my fingertips as I pull away from the tree. She digs her heels in, refusing to budge as I try to drag her along with me. “You don’t know what I am,” I hiss, my voice dripping with venom as I give her another forceful tug, even more powerful than before.

  She closes her eyes, sighing with infinite patience. “So be it.”

  The pressure against my chest is like an explosion as I stumble, releasing my grip to catch myself as I land on the mossy ground. The weight of an invisible force on my body hinders my movements, pinning me down as I fight. My eyes are wide as she stands over me, looking down at my struggling form.

  “Your father was a scourge on this earth, Stefan, but your mother was a good woman. One of my dearest friends.” She’s delusional; my mom walked out on me when I was barely old enough to remember her, and this lady can’t be more than five years my senior.

  “Good women don’t abandon their child to be raised by a psycho,” I spit out, still trying to stand.

  A hint of sadness taints her smile. “I think we both know she didn’t leave you behind. In these very woods, her bones rest in a shallow grave, hidden beneath the earth. Your father made sure of that.” Her eyes stay locked on me, unyielding, as I fight to pull myself up from the floor. “You’ve still got time… don’t end up like him. I promised her I wouldn’t let you end up like him.”

  A scream claws out of my throat as my face ignites with an unbearable, searing agony, blazing as hot as blue flames. My skin becomes raw as I rip at it, trying to slide my fingers under the mask that’s burning me alive. With every failed attempt, panic wells up inside me, and I grit my teeth as my fingernails pierce like daggers, drawing blood.

  The heat dissipates, but the mask doesn’t move.

  “What did you do to me?”

  Her face hovers inches above mine, her intense gaze locked onto my eyes without a single blink. “I gave you an opportunity to change.”

  My fingers are still fighting in vain to free myself from this mask that’s suddenly claustrophobic. “What have you done to me? Why can’t I take this off?” Hysteria seeps into my voice as my volume increases.

  She stands and her voice is hazy and distant, like she’s a hundred miles away. “You’ll be able to take it off, Stefan. Just as soon as you earn it.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  She kneels again, her knee pressing into my chest, suffocating me further as she deprives me of precious oxygen. “Exactly what I said. You want to be a monster? You got your wish. Now it’s up to you to change. Until you earn the love of someone who is your match, your equal in every way, the mask stays put.”

  My eyes are suddenly heavy, the world fading as I drift away. “You’re not him,” she repeats, and it’s the last thing I hear before I fall from consciousness.

  I jolt awake, sitting straight up in my bed, Frankenstein-style, as though a bolt of lightning shocked me to life. My heart pounds as I take in the familiar settings of my bedroom, serene in the early morning light.

  “Just a dream,” I mutter, relief flooding my system as I swing my legs off the side of the bed and let my bare feet land on the wooden floor.

  Everything was so vivid and real, and it made me realize what I have to do if I’m going to avoid becoming my father. My footsteps echo through the silent house as I march towards my office, smacking the desk and watching the hidden drawer unlatch. Determined to destroy this cursed thing, I yank the drawer open and freeze.

  It’s empty.

  With deliberate slowness, I turn and walk in the direction of the mirror that hangs near the door. My steps are silent and cautious as I approach, squeezing my eyes shut as I close the final distance. When I open them, my reflection doesn’t stare back at me.

  The mask does.

  Panicked, I wrestle and struggle with the fabric; the seconds turning into minutes that might be an eternity as my terror grows. But no matter what I try, the mask stays in place.

  The monster remains.

  Chapter 1

  Stefan

  Three Years Later

  My eyes wander around the room, absorbing the vibrant energy of the crowded ballroom, where a hundred or more people move and chatter with excitement. Everyone is in their finest, dressed to impress as they socialize—gowns and tuxedos, women showing off cleavage and men desperate to win their attention.

  And masks. Every single one of them wears a mask.

  It has turned into a monthly ritual in my home, and the only opportunity for social interaction that I have anymore. Sunup to sundown, my days blur together as I toil away, trying to occupy my mind while I’m screaming inside. My existence is confined to the woods that encircle my property, never stepping further into the outside world.

  How could I go anywhere, looking like I do?

  For three years now, I have been haunted by the day that forever altered my life, and this accursed mask remains an unyielding fixture on my head. Underneath the leather, I’ve almost forgotten the shape and contours of my own face.

  At first, my anger consumed me, and I unleashed my rage by demolishing everything in my way. Fury devoured me for weeks, and the aftermath left my house in shambles. Everywhere you looked bore signs of violence—windows smashed, holes punched into walls, and doors hanging limply from their hinges. All jarring reminders of the chaos that had unfolded.

  The next phase was marked by a profound sense of apathy, and I spent weeks in a state of inertia, unmotivated and indifferent to everything around me.