Beauty and the Beast (an erotic re-imagining) Page 7

  “Good girl,” he said.

  His praise helped dissipate the lingering embarrassment, and tasting her own wetness had, surprisingly, aroused her more than she would ever have imagined. Still, it felt so strange, so dangerous and wrong, to do such things with the Beast.

  “Beast,” she whispered. “Where is Frederick?”

  She was scared, scared that the Beast would be angry with her for asking again about the handsome prince. Surely he must hate that another man, one who she was attracted to and who might take her attention from him, was here in the castle. But he had told her she was free to “play” with him.

  The Beast, if nothing else, had a way of surprising her.

  ***

  The Beast looked at Belle’s sweet, frightened expression. “Darling, I can’t tell you. But you need not fear Frederick, just as you need not fear me.”

  He couldn’t tell her that he knew of her dream. That he had, somehow, been a part of her dream. It didn’t seem possible, and yet it had happened.

  They both had fallen asleep, and met again in another realm, perhaps. It had never happened to him before.

  Well, that wasn’t exactly so. In his dreams, all alone for the past decade in the castle, he was always a man. In his dreams, the Beast was Frederick. He’d always assumed that his dreams were fantasy alone, a misty false memory created in sleep.

  Not actually occurring. And yet, they must have been real, or how would he know, down to the last detail, exactly why Belle kept asking about Frederick? The Beast hadn’t asked her for specifics of her encounter with his most inner self, but he knew.

  He knew.

  It would be beneficial for her to love him as Frederick, but only because if he ever did turn back into his former state, she would know him. As it stood, if she thought Frederick was someone else, and loved him, then how (or why) would she ever pick a Beast to love?

  There had to be a way for the Beast to convince her to be with him, through Frederick. Her dream had already convinced her to start her training with the Beast, to start to get to know him. But she kept harping on finding Frederick in waking life.

  That would have to stop.

  “Belle, I know you’re concerned about Frederick.”

  “I saw him, I think, I don’t know…” she whispered.

  “But if you mention him to me again, if you continue to search the castle for him, then you will be punished.”

  “That’s not fair,” she said, pushing off of his lap. “He came to me, he’s held prisoner here.”

  “Belle, you need to stop,” he warned.

  “And you said that you didn’t mind if I was with him! Why change your mind now?”

  “You can be with him, if he comes to you,” the Beast agreed. “But stop searching for him. Forget about him, when you are with me.”

  Belle turned her face from the Beast and stormed, naked, back toward the hallway.

  “When you are ready to continue, Belle, you will meet me in the dungeon.”

  Now, she turned on her feet, and glared at him. “I don’t understand you, Beast. You are an enigma.”

  “I am your Master for the next six months,” he said softly, his words rumbling as the animalist part of him shone through. “I gave you a direct order, which you immediately disobeyed.”

  Her eyes widened. Ahh, now she understood.

  But she ran away.

  The Beast waited for a few minutes for her to realize the error of her ways and return, but she didn’t. He could easily grab her and physically take her downstairs for her punishment, but that would be completely in contrast to the point he hoped to make.

  She needed to choose this. So, he would wait until she was ready.

  It was nightfall before he heard the sound of her suite door squeak open. The Beast paused in his tracks, listening.

  Belle stood before him in her dressing gown, looking at her feet sorrowfully.

  “Please don’t punish me, Sir,” she said. She dropped to her knees on the cold stone floor in an unexpected display of submission. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You were thinking quite clearly,” he said. “You thought you would test me. That’s fine. I enjoy punishing misbehaving young women. If you’re ready to continue, we shall do so in the dungeon.”

  She hesitated, her eyes wet with unshed tears of terror. Why should she be so frightened? He had already promised he would never harm her, or eat her.

  “I don’t want to go to the dungeon,” she said.

  The Beast raised his brow, giving her a stern look, and she flew down the stairs to the dungeon, suddenly ready to obey.

  Good.

  ***

  Belle stumbled down the long, narrow stairway to the dungeon. Why, why had she pushed so hard? They had been having such a nice time, and she had ruined it all. It helped, a little, to know that the Beast had promised to not ever eat her, and she believed him. Perhaps that was why she finally worked up the courage to face him again. Only took her all day.

  Still, he’d also promised to punish her. Would he spank her again, right now? Or would it be something else, something that required a dungeon, and not just her, overturned on his lap?

  The Beast was right behind her. She felt cornered, and she once again dropped to her knees, hoping it would appease him.

  “I like that, Belle,” he said, the earlier anger from that morning gone from his voice.

  “I want to please you, Sir,” she said. “I know I promised to do what you say. I’m trying, I am.”

  “You may stand,” he said. “Take off your dress.”

  He prowled over to a set of chains hanging on the dungeon’s cold, stone wall. How had she not noticed those before?

  Belle swallowed hard and rushed to obey. She wouldn’t tarry and give him more reason to be hard on her. She’d learned her lesson about stalling after her first spanking.

  The chains moved as if on their accord, latching thick cuffs around her wrists.

  Oh fairies, are you against me too, now?

  The Beast stepped back, his gaze on her naked, stretched body, her arms high above her head, and smiled, baring his sharp teeth.

  “Have you ever been whipped, Beauty?” he asked.

  What was the right answer? If she said yes (a lie), would he go easier on her, or harder?

  “No, Beast,” she whispered.

  “Would you like to be whipped?”

  A trick question. It had to be.

  “I’m scared, Sir,” she said honestly. “But I’ll do whatever you want me to do. We have an agreement, and I know if I do what you say, then you’ll honor your end of the bargain and set me free when it is time.”

  The Beast laughed, a low, rumbling sound, and she struggled to keep her face expressionless despite her concern. He would honor their deal, right? He had to.

  “That’s right, Belle. We will both keep our word.” He left her field of vision, disappearing into the shadows, and returned with a long, leather whip with several strands of leather hanging ominously from his hand.

  “This will hurt, but the marks won’t last more than tonight, and by tomorrow morning, your skin will be as white and unblemished as it is right now. I chose this whip because it hurts, but doesn’t harm. I keep my word, always, Beauty.”

  A whimper escaped her throat, and she swallowed again, determined to not cry. She could handle this. How much could it hurt if it didn’t even leave a lasting mark, right?

  He dropped to all fours and moved in closer, nudging her torso with his head, the long, silky mane brushing against her nipples. The tiny pink peaks were hard, and while Belle wished she could say it was only because she was freezing, in reality, she was aroused.

  Why? Why, why, and how on earth was she turned on when she was about to be punished by the Beast?

  “Turn around,” he said.

  She obeyed, the chains around her wrists rattling in protest as her nipples pressed against the stone. The wall felt icy, almost wet.

  “You will count,”
he said.

  “How many, Sir?” Please, please don’t be a lot.

  “I will stop when I feel you’ve had enough. I have considered one lash for every hour you kept me waiting…” He paused. “Perhaps next time you won’t give me all day to think about it.”

  With that, he stood on his hind legs, and once again she felt so small next to his towering mass. The helplessness of her situation overwhelmed her. Chained to his dungeon wall, unable to break free, unable to leave, forced to accept whatever punishment he deemed fit to give her.

  For some reason, that very helplessness soothed her, and made it all right. If she couldn’t escape, then she may as well relax, and not fight. He could do what he wanted, and she would survive, because he promised her so.

  And she believed him. The Beast, in everything he had done and said, had always been honest with her. She was safe in his care.

  The whip made a horrible whistling sound as it swooshed through the cold air and lashed across her back. Belle shrieked, more in surprise than pain—although the pain was there, definitely— a sharp burn across her tender flesh.

  “Count them off, Belle,” he ordered.

  “One,” she said, surprised her voice was so strong. It filled the dungeon.

  He took the whip and turned it around in his hand, so that the thick handle faced her. No! He couldn’t beat her with the handle, she would break into pieces.

  “Please,” she whispered, but the Beast shook his head.

  “You forgot to say Sir,” he said.

  She winced, waiting for the force of the thick handle of the whip, but it didn’t come. Instead, he nudged the handle between her legs, rubbing it against her clit slowly.

  What on earth? She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the dungeon wall, as he slid the handle, not inside her, no, but back and forth along her clit.

  She gasped as pleasure flowed over her, but then, he stopped.

  No!

  “Please,” she said again, but this time she had no idea what she pleaded for. For more? Yes. More.

  But the lash whistled through the air again, striking her on the buttocks this time. Belle cried out.

  “Two, Sir,” she said, her body twisting in the chains.

  Another lash of the whip. Oh God, the agony!

  “Three, Sir,” she cried.

  And then, the handle of the whip was between her shaking thighs once more. She bucked her hips against it, grinding her cunny down onto the handle, needing more. The Beast teased her, bringing her once more to the brink of climax before stopping completely.

  She cried out again, before he even whipped her, when he stopped. Now she craved that lash, because if she could just live through that moment of pain, he would reward her.

  Unless this—this teasing—was also her punishment. A sob wracked through her as the lash flicked against her thighs.

  “Four, Sir,” she said. Again.

  “Five, Sir. Six, Sir. Oh God, please, Beast, please—”

  Now his hands were on her, running along the flare of her hips, and finally settling between her thighs. Moisture ran down her inner thighs, and she hid her face in the crook of her elbow. It felt so good, too good.

  “Please,” she begged, and he kept rubbing her there, so slowly, so tortuously.

  “Please, what?” he asked, and took her long hair in one meaty fist, forcing her to unhide her face.

  “Please, Sir, Beast. Please let me come.”

  “You are being punished, Beauty,” he said softly. He played with her clit again, moving his thick fingers so slowly she thought she might die.

  And then he stopped. The Beast unchained her, and she sighed with gratitude, but her relief was short lived. He immediately repositioned her arms behind her and latched her wrists to the stone wall once more.

  While the new position made her more comfortable than she’d been with her arms so high above her head, being bound in the Beast’s dungeon left her little room to be grateful for that small kindness.

  “You’ll stay here tonight,” he said. “It will make you appreciate your accommodations in your suite upstairs, and our…arrangement.”

  “Don’t leave me like this, Beast,” she begged, stepping forward the small bit her restraints would allow. The chains clattered as they bounced against the stone.

  “You left me, Belle. You’re the one who walked away first.”

  She groaned miserably, and his expression softened, as if he couldn’t help but to feel sorry for her.

  “Perhaps in your dreams,” he said, “your playmate will relieve your discomfort.”

  The Beast withdrew, leaving her alone once more in the cold, dark dungeon.

  6: Beauty’s Library

  The Beast wanted to see her in her dreams, he did. He wanted to be Frederick with her once more.

  He took a glass of whiskey to the parlor and sat heavily. Could he sleep when she did—and was that even a requisite for the magic to work? The poor girl, how would she sleep when he’d left her in such an uncomfortable state?

  The Beast went over to his desk and picked up the looking glass. The looking glass was no ordinary mirror; like most items in his castle, it had not escaped the enchantress’s spell. This particular mirror could show him anything he wished to see, without having to leave the castle walls.

  “Show me my Beauty,” he said, staring at his monstrous reflection.

  A swirl of fog hazed the looking glass, then cleared as if by a sudden breeze. Belle was as he’d left her, naked, chained to the dungeon wall, and in the sweetest distress he’d ever seen. She turned in her restraints, rolling her head back against the wall, and sighed.

  “Sleep, Belle. I’ll see you soon.” The Beast set the looking glass down, knowing she couldn’t hear him, and sipped deeply from his glass of whiskey.

  The wound on his chest was feeling better, so he didn’t have much of an excuse for laudanam, but perhaps he should take some anyway? Something, something to send him off to dreamland, where he could regain his masculine form and comfort his beautiful prisoner.

  But the events of the day settled on his shoulders, and as he sat, he drifted off on his own, the glass dropping from his hand harmlessly to the sofa, only narrowly missing the stone floor by centimeters.

  And in his sleep, he was Frederick.

  Frederick rose from the sofa and ran his hands over his torso, confirming that he was, indeed, himself. He grinned rakishly and bounded down the hall to the dungeon stairs. What time was it? Would Beauty be ready for him?

  “Belle?” he whispered into the darkness of the dungeon.

  “H-hello?” she replied, from the far wall. “I’m here!”

  Frederick lit a sconce on the wall, and warm light flooded their corner of the dungeon. Belle hid her face, as if doing so would somehow make her less naked, less vulnerable.

  “Are you all right?” Frederick asked. “What have you done to be punished like this?”

  He knew it had to do with the Beast, but at the moment, the two worlds seemed so far apart. Which was his true self, the Beast or the Prince? He didn’t know, himself. Right now, he was Frederick. That was all that mattered.

  “I’m fine,” Belle said, finally peeking out from behind her curtain of hair. “The Beast had a lesson to teach me, and I do, I suppose, have quite a bit to learn.” She laughed, an unexpected sound, considering her predicament.

  He smiled. “You’re in quite the good spirits, considering you are naked and chained to a wall, and I am a man known for my love of bound women.”

  At this, she smiled. “It’s only a dream, you can do anything to me in a dream. Nothing matters if it’s not real.”

  He stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of her naked flesh. “What if it is real?”

  “Then I truly am in a predicament.” Belle laughed nervously. “Am I safe with you, Frederick?”

  Her lips were so full, begging for a kiss. He smoothed her hair out of her face and smiled. “I won’t harm you.
”

  “You sound like my Beast.”

  “Mmmm.” Frederick leaned in and kissed her lips gently, then pulled back, waiting for her response.

  “It is a dream, right?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied honestly. Was it? “I think so.”

  “I’ve been searching for you. The Beast won’t tell me where he’s keeping you captive in the castle. How did you find me?”

  Frederick frowned. “I knew where you were. Perhaps the castle guided me to you.” He shrugged. “Does it matter? I’m here. I’ve missed you.”

  Belle smiled. “I missed you too. I did as you told me, Frederick. I agreed to begin my service to the Beast.”

  “Good!” Joy filled him, but he wasn’t sure why. Yes, it was good. She needed to be with the Beast. To fall in love with the Beast.

  “Why?” she whispered, echoing the very same question floating through his own mind. “Why would you want me to be with anyone other than you?”

  “It’s not because I care for you any less, Beauty. I can’t explain it. Just know that the Beast is good, and he adores you. You must learn to love the Beast.”

  “He left me in quite the state,” she mumbled. “Will you rescue me? Or are you here to take advantage of a captive woman?”

  “Both,” he grinned, his mouth close to hers. “Let’s do both.”

  “All right,” she giggled.

  Belle stood on her tiptoes, pressing her mouth to his, her eyes shining brightly with excitement.

  “Let me see if I can rescue you from this particular predicament you’re in,” he suggested, dropping his hand down to the curve of her waist. “Open your thighs for me.”

  She breathed out shakily, and obeyed. Before he could even bring his fingers to her wet heat, Belle moaned in anticipation.

  “You’ve really been left wanting, now haven’t you?” he asked, touching her clit.

  “Yes,” she said, pushing her hips forward, as if hoping to pull his fingers into her body by sheer force of will.

  He opened her nether lips, teasing the edges of her tiny bud.

  “Oh, Frederick, yes…”

  “This is a fine look on you,” he murmured.

  “Please, please.”