Beauty and the Beast (an erotic re-imagining) Read online

  Beauty and the Beast

  (an erotic re-imagining)

  Shoshanna Evers

  From bestselling erotica author Shoshanna Evers comes an erotic re-imagining of the classic fairytale, Beauty and the Beast.

  With her father’s freedom at stake, Belle agrees to be the fearsome Beast’s prisoner in his enchanted castle. Held as his willing captive, Belle must submit to the Beast’s most primal desires to survive.

  The Beast can’t let his little Beauty go free, not while there’s still hope that she might be the one to end his decade-long curse…and with true love’s kiss, return him to the Prince he once was.

  Their story is one that begins with imprisonment—he in his monstrous body, she in a dungeon—but without this predicament, Beauty would never have met the Beast.

  So we shall begin with what occurred on that fateful night when everything changed: when a lover was betrayed, a man deformed, and a castle shrouded in an enchantment…

  Beauty and the Beast (an erotic re-imagining) © 2014 Shoshanna Evers

  Cover art by Rob Sturtz www.SelfPubBookCovers.com

  Electronic book publication, copyright © 2014 Shoshanna Evers

  ISBN-10: 0991372212

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9913722-1-8

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead or places, events or locations is coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the ebook store of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  1: A Stranger Calls (Ten Years Later)

  2: The Beast’s Captive

  3: Frederick

  4: Dining with the Beast

  5: Belle’s Punishment

  6: Beauty’s Library

  7: Marked by the Beast

  8: The Horse and Carriage

  9: Submitting to the Beast

  10: Home and Hearth

  11: The Enchantment

  About Shoshanna Evers

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  The story of Beauty and the Beast has been told and retold in many reincarnations since its debut as a French fairytale by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve, back in the year 1740. The tale we are more familiar with came later, in 1756 by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont. I particularly loved the black and white French movie entitled La Belle et la Bête, which was filmed in 1946. And, of course, we cannot forget the Disney musical from 1991.

  There have been many, many other adaptations of this classic fairytale, including television shows, songs, operas, ballets and stage plays, and I have researched many of them. But every time I imagined the Beast alone in that castle, with Belle—his beautiful captive—I wondered what could have happened between them that a children’s story might omit.

  My version of Beauty and the Beast is an erotic reimagining. It is not a tale for children. I have included some elements from the original fairytales, including how the Beast was seduced by the enchantress, the fairies that seemed to bring their magic to the castle, and the enchanted looking glass. The idea of Belle seeing the Beast’s true form in her dreams and searching for him by day in the castle is also inspired by the original tale. You will not find talking clocks or candelabras in my story, nor will you find Belle’s brutish suitor, Gaston.

  You will find, however, what happens when a young man is imprisoned in the body of a beast—when he can only return to his true self if, and only if, he can find true love, and be loved in return.

  And if that Beast finds his pleasure in the sight of a young woman, bound and at his mercy… and that young woman finds herself entranced by her burgeoning sexuality and the pleasures her experiences with the Beast provide her… well, dear readers—that is my story. The erotic story of Beauty and the Beast.

  I hope you enjoy it.

  ~Shoshanna Evers, December 2013

  Prologue

  Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a handsome young prince named Frederick. This is not his story alone, and this is not quite where our story begins. But without what happens here, Beauty would never have met the Beast.

  So we shall begin with what occurred on that fateful night when everything changed: when a lover was betrayed, a man deformed, and a castle shrouded in an enchantment.

  ***

  Frederick smiled as Nadine’s dress slipped to the floor. She covered her breasts modestly, but the teasing grin on her face told a different story.

  “Am I distracting you enough yet, my Prince?” she asked.

  “Drop your hands,” he said. Lately, it seemed he needed any distraction he could get.

  Nadine laughed and lowered her hands, revealing the pale globes of her full breasts.

  “That’s better.” He gently grasped her wrists and held them above her head, pressing them against the tall wooden column that made up the corner of her four poster bed. “But you mustn’t call me Prince.”

  “I don’t care if your father disinherited you,” she whispered. “It’s a mistake. It will be fixed.”

  Frederick didn’t bother arguing. With the King dead, nothing could be fixed.

  He grabbed her scarf from the edge of the bed and wrapped it around her wrists, binding her in place.

  “If you aren’t a Prince anymore, why couldn’t I come to the funeral with you?” Nadine asked. “Am I still your dirty secret, the peasant girl you fuck?”

  Frederick responded by slapping his hand hard against her ass. The will hadn’t been read until after the King was buried, and that was over a month ago. His stepmother’s doing, no doubt.

  “I think you’ve forgotten something,” he said.

  Nadine laughed and tried to shrug, an impossible motion with her arms so high above her head.

  “Do you really still want me, Nadine?” Frederick asked, punctuating each word with another spank. She moaned breathlessly. He ran his finger between her legs, touching her wetness, her desire. “I have nothing now.”

  “You have me,” she gasped.

  Frederick opened his breaches and thrust into her from behind, gripping her hips. Nadine grabbed onto the post and moaned with delight. He rammed into her, harder, until he could feel her cunny clench around his cock.

  “Oh, yes, Prince Frederick,” she cried. “More.”

  He gave her more, relishing every moment of it, until his climax overtook him and he pulled out, letting his seed spill onto her back, gazing upon her as it dripped down over her reddened ass.

  Nadine seemed to believe he was still a Prince, that the enchantress who had married his father wasn’t really going to throw him out of the castle. But his stepmother despised him—and nothing would change.

  Frederick released Nadine from her restraints, and she collapsed breathlessly into his arms.

  “Do you love me, Nadine?”

  She gazed up at him in a post-orgasmic haze. “How can I prove it to you?”

  He kissed her lips. He considered telling her what she’d forgotten, but reconsidered with a wry smile. “Just…stop calling me Prince. And accept me for what I’ve become.”

  ***

  Frederick slipped back into the silent castle. Nadine had forgotten it was his eighteenth birthday.
When she remembered, he’d punish her for it (hardly a punishment when she always begged for more, but that was Nadine). Time spent with his lover over his lap would be the perfect birthday present.

  He certainly wouldn’t be getting any presents at home. The grief that still filled the cavernous hall—long after his father’s funeral—threatened to close in on him, to suffocate him.

  Frederick made it to his suite without arousing any of the servants, and sat on the edge of his bed. No use thinking about getting his old life back. There would be no grand feast to celebrate his birthday this year, nor any year thereafter. His stepmother had poisoned the King’s heart against him, and there was no way to undo the damage she had done.

  How ironic that Frederick had been disinherited so any child the King had with his stepmother would become the next in line for the throne—and yet she’d never given his father a child. Now his father was dead, and Frederick couldn’t even properly mourn him.

  Hard to mourn a man who never spoke to him, who believed in his heart that Frederick—at the tender age of four—had been the cause of his mother’s death.

  Frederick picked up his journal, determined to jot down that evening’s sexual adventure. Determined to get rid of the images coursing through his mind. Images of his mother drowning to save his life.

  His father was right about him. Frederick growled and shook his head, staring at the words scrawled on the page before him.

  Just write. Forget. Escape.

  A knock sounded on his dressing chamber door.

  “Leave me alone,” he said.

  Ignoring him, his stepmother opened the door, reclining seductively against the doorframe. “Now, now, that’s no way to speak to your mother, darling.”

  Frederick didn’t bother correcting her, even though the word Stepmother was on the tip of his tongue. He looked away, not wanting to see her low-cut dress, or the way she ran her long, pale fingers through her jet-black hair as she stared at him.

  “Your diary can’t be more intriguing than me, now can it?” she teased. She stepped inside his room, closing the door behind her. “Not to a boy who’s all grown up.”

  The beautiful enchantress smiled and stood in front of him, her breasts at his eye-level, since he hadn’t stood when she entered. His own personal form of civil disobedience.

  The journal flew from his hands by an invisible force, and he gasped.

  “Pay attention to me,” she commanded.

  “I have nothing to say to you. Get out.”

  “I’ve been waiting for your birthday, darling,” she whispered in his ear, her breath hot against his cheek. “I think you’ll enjoy your present.”

  With a lascivious smile, she pushed her dress down lower, revealing her dark pink nipples.

  Frederick turned his head, not wanting to see. “I’m not interested.”

  His stepmother pointed her finger at him, and just like that, his clothing ripped right off his body, leaving him naked next to his fine cotton suit. He looked down in shock—the garments were torn to shreds.

  “Much better,” she laughed. “It’s getting interesting now, isn’t it?”

  Frederick clasped his hands over his privates to cover himself. What in God’s name was this witch doing?

  “You’re out of your mind,” he growled.

  “Oh, come on, don’t be a cry baby. I want to see you. All of you.” She grinned and snapped her fingers.

  His bed sheets pulled off his bed, almost throwing him to the floor. But then the edges of the sheet wrapped around his wrists, binding him, his nakedness exposed.

  “Leave me be!” he shouted.

  She ran her hand down his body, reverently touching his flesh. “My husband is gone,” she whispered. “You’re all I have left.”

  “I won’t warm your bed in his place,” he said. “I don’t want anything to do with you. I’d rather take my chances on the streets.”

  Frederick shut his eyes, certain that she would try to hypnotize him into desiring her. Her cold hand caressed his cock, and he shuddered.

  He expected her to ravish him, using her enchantments to hold him against his will. Instead, she burst into tears.

  “Wh-what?” he asked, looking up at her in surprise. “Why are you crying?”

  His stepmother shook her head, a furious expression on her face. “Because you hate me so much.”

  “I don’t hate you,” he lied. “I just don’t want to sleep with you.”

  “Don’t you love me?” she asked, sounding needy, child-like. “Even a little?”

  “No, Stepmother. Not even a little.”

  “Fine,” she said, throwing her hands up in anger.

  The bed sheets released him, and he sat up, rubbing his wrists.

  His stepmother glared at him. “Don’t think I don’t know about that harlot you visit. She doesn’t love you either. Disinherited, not even a real Prince anymore—the only reason she lets you fuck her is because you’re so damn handsome.” She spat the word like it was a curse.

  Frederick didn’t respond, surprised his stepmother knew about his dalliances. She must have read his private journal entries. He wrote everything in that journal. Everything. Including how he felt about his stepmother.

  “If you weren’t handsome—if you didn’t have that perfect, hard young body—no one would ever love you,” she said.

  “That’s not true,” Frederick said. “It’s you no one will ever love! I hate you—”

  She glared at him with fire in her eyes.

  “—and if you hadn’t enchanted my father,” he whispered, “he would have hated you as well.”

  The room went dark, the sconces on the wall all blew out at once by a strong wind. Goosebumps rose on his naked flesh, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end.

  “You hate me?” She laughed, a manic sound that bubbled up from her throat. “You’re not the only one who can hate. You are a beast, and now the whole world will know it!”

  Outside his window, lightning flashed and thunder boomed with a ferocity that made him jump in terror. All the while, his stepmother cackled.

  Pain tore through him. It felt as if every bone in his body broke and rebuilt, knitting itself back together. His mouth hurt, he’d bitten his tongue and could taste the coppery blood on his lips.

  “You. Are. A BEAST!” she screamed.

  Frederick fell to the stone floor in agony. He raised his hand to keep her from hurting him, but…his hand…

  Oh dear Lord in Heaven

  His hand was gone. In its place was a huge animal…paw? No—a gorilla’s hand, black and covered in fur.

  “What have you done to me?” he cried. Even his voice sounded different. Thick, rumbly, like a lion’s roar speaking human words.

  The storm stopped. The room lit up with a soft glow from the candles in the sconces. His stepmother gazed at him thoughtfully, as if her anger dissipated once her spell had been cast.

  “You have a mirror, see what I’ve done to you for yourself, Beast.”

  Frederick tried to rise, but everything still hurt, so he crawled on all fours to the large mirror in the corner of his room. He roared in fright at what he saw.

  The animal before him—it couldn’t be him, could it? A fearsome combination that didn’t exist in nature. His face only slightly resembled his own—he recognized his eyes—still green, still his. His cheekbones, and his jaw. But he had huge fangs, like a tiger. A mane, like a lion. And his body—what was he? A mix of man and gorilla, ten feet tall when he rose up on his hind legs, trying to get a better look. Muscles covered every inch him, not quite hidden by brown and black fur.

  His thick, muscular arms hung heavy and low like a gorilla’s, but his legs had been transformed into those of a wolf’s. He had a tail! Dear God, he had a tail. He was hideous.

  Frederick cried out in fear and anger, lashing out at his stepmother with a desperate swipe of his humongous gorilla hand.

  “Serves you right,” she said, jumping gracefull
y out of his reach. “I sure hope you were right about your little girlfriend loving you for who you really are. Because until someone falls in love with you—true love—despite your monstrous appearance—you will stay a beast.”

  “Why?” he asked, crouching on the floor in front of the mirror. “Why?”

  “Because you broke my heart,” the enchantress said softly.

  Frederick inhaled deeply. “No. I mean…” He paused, unsure if he should ask her, afraid it would make her change the rules of her spell. “I mean, why make it so the spell can be so easily broken, when Nadine tells me she loves me?”

  She paused, sighing. “I didn’t make it that way on purpose, it’s just how it is. True love conquers all.” Reaching down, she patted his mane like he was a good dog. “It’s quite adorable that you really think that harlot will still love you when she sees you as a beast. She won’t.”

  Frederick rose up to his full height, all ten feet of it, and screamed for her to leave him alone.

  It came out as… a roar.

  ***

  Later that night, Frederick prowled through his chambers, afraid to leave lest someone in the court decided to shoot him down out of fear.

  His clothing didn’t fit, and despite the full coat of fur covering his body, he felt naked and too much like the beast he’d become.

  “I need some pants,” he murmured to himself.

  He couldn’t go to see Nadine without clothing. His cock had grown in proportion to his new, huge body, and hung lewdly whenever he stood. And he had to see her so she could break the spell.

  Something shifted in the air. He turned to his bed, and lying next to the shredded clothing his stepmother had torn from him while he was still in human form…were pants. Large pants, with a hole for a…tail?

  “What the hell is going on?” he wondered.

  A piece of paper appeared on the bed, next to the pants. He tried to pick it up, but only succeeded in swatting at it with his new hand. Sighing, he leaned forward to read the spidery handwriting that sprawled across the note.