Beauty and the Beast (an erotic re-imagining) Page 9

  Eyes that could see into her soul.

  Belle set the diary down, and raised her eyebrow. Aha! Perhaps the Beast wanted to stripe her thighs with a cane, the way Frederick had done to his seamstress lover.

  A caning. It would hurt, no doubt. But she could handle it. And then she’d be marked, and she could look at her skin and know that this was real. That she wasn’t insane, locked up and under Mrs. Sharone’s care.

  With that thought squared away, Belle was able to set the diary aside and begin exploring the many books the library had to offer. She may as well sit comfortably while she could.

  ***

  The Beast ran through the woods, the wind rushing through his mane, his paws pounding against the packed dirt on the forest floor. The trees overhead shaded his massive body, and, as only the woods were able to, made him feel free.

  Presenting the library to Belle had been a gratifying experience. He’d have to have a plaque placed on the door naming the library in her honor. The library had never had a name before, but now it only felt fitting that it should belong to her, as mistress of the castle.

  Would she, could she, ever desire to stay with him?

  He would mark her soon, when he was done with his run, and had bathed. The girl needed something concrete to hold her, mentally, to her situation. If she continued thinking of every moment as one moment closer to her freedom, she’d never be present fully enough with him to learn to love him.

  A beautiful deer caught his scent. It was hidden just yonder behind a tree. The Beast paused, one arm off the ground, ready to turn and give chase. The deer sensed the predator that he was and ran, its spindly legs moving so fast they seemed a blur. But the Beast was faster. Breathing hard, he caught up with the animal, his hind legs bent, ready to pounce.

  But something stopped him. An image of the expression on Belle’s face, if she were to see him hunting with his bare hands and teeth, ran through his mind. He was not an animal, he was not a monster. Beneath his beastly exterior, he was a man. He was Frederick.

  And Frederick wanted to be with Belle more than the Beast wanted to kill a helpless deer.

  The Beast paused, panting, and turned back to the castle. Instead of running on all fours like he usually did, he walked back on his legs, like a gentleman. The deer ran out of sight, not trusting this turn of events. No matter. When the Beast reached the castle, he would call upon a supper to be laid out for him. He could even request venison if he so desired. But there was no need to tear the meat from that beautiful creature’s flesh. No need to behave like a beast, even if that was what he’d become.

  Once, he was a prince. He could never be a prince again, but he could be a man. For Belle.

  For Belle, he would do anything.

  ***

  Back in the library, a note drifted from the air on a piece of paper, and landed neatly on top of the copy of Voltaire’s scandalous Candide that Belle had discovered. She picked the paper up in surprise, even as she noted that the sun was now low in the sky toward the west.

  ~~~

  Please do me the honor of joining me in the East Wing sitting room. I am prepared to mark you, and I trust you are prepared to accept my invitation. As always, I shall never harm you, Beauty.

  With Devotion,

  The Beast

  ~~~

  Belle folded the paper in half with trembling fingers and used it as a bookmark for her book. She set it down by the windowsill, not wanting to waste even a moment by putting it back on the shelf.

  The Beast would never harm her. She could trust him. And so she went, without delay, to meet him. The castle was huge and maze-like, but sconces lit up along the walls as she walked, showing her the way.

  The Beast wasn’t in the sitting room in the East wing when she arrived. What should she do with herself? What would the Beast prefer?

  He liked it when she knelt for him, so she carefully arranged her gown around her and waited, kneeling, head bowed.

  Belle could hear his heavy footsteps prowling closer before he spoke. “You are a sight to behold, Beauty.”

  Raising her head to meet his gaze, Belle offered him a shaky smile. “Thank you, Sir.”

  And then, as if he could see past her brave façade and into her heart, he added, “You needn’t be afraid. Not of me.”

  “I’m not,” she lied quickly. “I mean… I know I needn’t be, Sir, because I trust you.” And that was the truth.

  “Let me help you out of your gown.” The Beast came closer to her, so close she felt the fur that covered his muscles brush against her bare arms. With quick hands that weren’t nearly as clumsy as she would have imagined such large hands would be, he loosened the stays in her dress and, perhaps with a bit of fairy magic, managed to have her completely naked within moments.

  “Sir?”

  He smiled, and she clung to his arm. “Are you going to cane me?” she asked.

  “I’m sure I will, at some point. But not right now.”

  Good Lord in Heaven, what did he have planned? The not knowing was killing her. And she had thought she had it all figured out, based on Frederick’s diary. Fool, her.

  The Beast took her chin with his hand and tilted her head up to him. “You need not fear my fangs, my teeth.”

  Before she could process what he meant, he dropped his head to her bare breast, and licked her nipple.

  Oh! The sensation was almost that of a cat tongue, scratchy yet soft and wet. The sandpaper-feel of it made her nipple tighten to a hard peak, and she moaned.

  “I would like to bite you, my little Beauty,” he murmured.

  Fear ran through her body, and every tiny hair on her flesh stood on end. But she said nothing. If the Beast said she need not fear his fangs, then she would trust him.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered, feeling shamed as a whimper tore from her throat.

  He licked her breast again, all the way around the small, pink areola, and she shuddered with pleasure.

  “I won’t harm you,” he promised. “But it will hurt. Let the pain mingle with the pleasure. This is not a punishment, Beauty. I want you to learn to enjoy this.”

  With that, he nodded, and though he didn’t speak, she knew what he meant. She lay back, her skin against the rich carpet that covered the stone in the sitting room, and stared up at the Beast.

  He was so big, so immense—he took up her entire field of vision. Somehow, even though she was naked and vulnerable beneath him, she was no longer frightened. His face was kind. How had she not noticed the similarity in his bone structure to that of Frederick? The cheeks, the jaw… the eyes. So human. So… Frederick.

  “You are magnificent, Beast,” she said.

  “As are you.” His head brushed the insides of her spread thighs.

  And then, he licked her, his thick tongue opening her nether lips to touch her very center, lapping at her bud. The scent of her heady arousal mixed with that of the fresh-cut roses throughout the sitting room, and she breathed it in, her passion mounting.

  Every lick of the Beast’s tongue brought on another wave of ecstasy. She writhed beneath him, moaning with desire.

  Yes, oh Heavens. Yes.

  Just as she reached the brink of climax, his fangs pierced her inner thigh, and she screamed as her orgasm wracked her body. The pain and the pleasure, the licking comingled with the bite, all came to a head, and she let herself fall over the cliff of sensual pleasure as she came harder than she ever had before.

  The Beast held her against the carpet, running his tongue over the sensitive bite mark, lapping up the two tiny drops of scarlet blood as she shuddered through an aftershock of her orgasm.

  Finally, he pulled her naked body into his arms, and cradled her against his massive chest.

  She looked down at her thigh, at the pale white skin marked now with his fangs, and smiled. “The mark of the Beast,” she murmured.

  “Does it feel real, now, Belle?” he asked tenderly.

  “It does. Thank you, Sir.”
>
  “Thank you for trusting me.” The Beast nuzzled his head against hers, and their lips met for the first time since she came to his hidden castle.

  Everything she had feared was for naught. His mouth on hers was heaven on earth, and everything she desired in that moment. She could faintly taste her own blood on his lips, and her arousal as well. Their tongues danced together, but his sharp teeth never scratched her. Belle had been kissed before—that time with the baker’s apprentice in the hay loft—but that had been nothing compared to this.

  She could kiss the Beast forever and be happy, wrapped in his huge, strong arms, so warm, so safe in his embrace.

  Belle had been marked by the Beast. Now she was ravenous for more—for whatever the Beast wanted to do with her, to take from her, to give to her.

  She was ready.

  8: The Horse and Carriage

  Some time had passed, when Belle lay in her suite on the cool, white linen sheets. She was still not quite sleepy despite her hot bath, and ran her fingers over the Beast’s mark on her inner thigh. Light purple bruises had blossomed at first around the bite like an old sailor’s faded tattoo, but the mark was healed now, leaving behind the pale red mesh of new skin.

  She found herself hoping it would leave a permanent scar, one that would forever remind her of her time with the Beast. Two tiny, perfectly circular dots scarring her pale skin. Yes, that was what she wanted. It would be beautiful, like the Beast himself.

  Beautiful. Was that how she now perceived the Beast? How had such an enormous perception shift occurred in so short a time?

  Belle rose and stood in front of the armoire. She didn’t want to go to sleep just yet. Perhaps if she could put on a dressing robe, she could go out and find the Beast. She found herself looking forward to their long conversations by the fire. He was a very intelligent man (Beast) and he seemed to be genuinely interested in her decidedly ordinary life.

  Certainly, she had no stories about fairies or castles or secret princes imprisoned therein, as the Beast must, but still he listened to her tales of her childhood with her Papa, and she also enjoyed retelling some of her favorite stories from the books in his library.

  Well, her library. The Beast had insisted it was now hers. A lovely gold plaque even adorned the library door, one that said, simply, “Beauty’s Library.” It made her smile whenever she looked upon it. Especially the fact that he named it for the pet name he had given her, one she was hardly deserving of… and yet, he seemed to believe she was.

  “Fairies, may I have a dressing robe to cover my nightgown, please? And slippers.”

  The requested items appeared draped over the bed, and Belle dressed quickly.

  The corridor was empty, the long, red rug spreading out before her like a river. Where was the Beast? What did he do, late at night, when she wasn’t with him?

  Part of her feared he might be out hunting. She’d seen him enter the castle with fresh blood on his mouth. Not recently, no, but it had happened. The thought of him hunting and killing with the same fangs that so lovingly marked her made her a bit ill.

  Best not to think on it. It wasn’t as if she could change the Beast into something less beastly.

  “Sir?” she said aloud, hoping he would hear. No answer.

  She crept down the dark corridor and descended the stairway to the main hall. The place was deserted.

  “Beast, where are you?” she called again. No reply.

  The front door lay just a few meters away, the only thing standing between her and freedom. She’d promised the Beast she wouldn’t try to escape, and with all of the wolves prowling the forest, she knew she wouldn’t make it far if she tried. Not without a horse and carriage to protect her.

  But there wouldn’t be much harm in merely taking in some fresh night air, right? She could just open the door and look at the stars for a while until she got sleepy enough to return to bed.

  With that plan in mind, Belle touched the door, and pulled. It didn’t open.

  Locked in. Of course. She was, after all, the Beast’s prisoner. As much as he tried to make her comfortable and at home, if she couldn’t leave when she wished, she was only a well-pampered captive. Not a guest.

  “Fairies,” she whispered, surprised by the urgency in her voice. “Open the door.”

  The door opened, and the cool night air rushed in to the front hall to greet her. How glorious! She hadn’t been outside, in nature, since that horrible night she almost got ripped to shreds by the wolves. The night the Beast spanked her for nearly getting herself killed. And for cutting him, she amended.

  Belle stepped outside, wrapping her robe tightly around her. The moon and stars lit up the sky magnificently, and she gazed on them with wonder. Was her Papa looking up at the same sky, thinking of her, as she was of him? Maybe he was, right at this moment.

  “If you can hear me, Papa,” she said softly, “I will come home to you soon.” She paused thoughtfully, imagining the night, in only a few more months, that she would be set free. “I’ll have a horse and carriage to lead me safely through the woods and home to you, and I will get there as fast as I can. I promise, Papa.”

  At her words, a horse-drawn carriage appeared at the front drive, finely appointed with plush cushions inside, and thick wooden sides that would keep her safe from the predators in the woods.

  “Oh my word,” she gasped. She looked around the empty landscape. “Fairies, what have you done?”

  She hadn’t meant to make a wish. She hadn’t meant to ask the fairies to help her escape. But in speaking her desire out loud, Belle had summoned the fairies into being accomplices in her betrayal.

  That was what leaving the Beast would be—a betrayal. She had promised him six months of servitude without him needing to fear she would escape, in lieu of a lifetime in his dungeon. If the Beast came back to the castle now and saw the horse and carriage, he would be furious. Even worse, he would be…heartbroken.

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she whispered.

  But it had. And if she chose, she could hop right into that carriage and leave the castle, the fairies, Frederick, and the Beast behind.

  She’d never have to see them again. Ever.

  Belle took a step toward the carriage, her heart racing. The wind picked up and blew straight through the thin silk of her dressing robe, and she shivered. Escape was but a few steps away.

  But she hesitated. Why? Here was her chance at freedom! She could go, now. She could be gone before the Beast even knew she was missing. He would think she was asleep in her suite, and not even look for her until morning.

  Frederick would know, when he couldn’t find her in her dreams (because she doubted she could sleep as the carriage took her through the treacherous forest), but what could a man who only existed in her dreams do to her?

  Nothing. If she chose to leave, she’d be safe. Somehow, after all this time together with the Beast, she felt he cared for her too much to make good on his threat to find her and eat her if she ran away. She could go home tonight and be at her Papa’s side once more.

  There was only one problem with her plan.

  Belle didn’t want to leave the Beast.

  Yes, she wanted to be with her Papa again, and she hated the thought of betraying her word to the Beast by escaping. She also hated the thought of how brokenhearted the Beast might feel upon learning that he’d been made a fool for trusting her.

  But the primary reason she couldn’t seem to take another step toward that carriage, toward her freedom, was that she wanted to spend more time with the Beast (and Frederick, if she were honest with herself). There was still so much to learn from him, so much to share with him.

  She was afraid of the Beast, but she cared about him as well. Both the Beast, and Frederick. Seeing them both, the beast and the man, was the highlight of her long days.

  If she went back home, she’d be going back to her simple, boring life, as quiet and sweet as it had been. Belle wasn’t certain she’d be happy if she co
uldn’t walk the halls of the grand castle, exploring its secrets and frightening herself near to death every time she rounded a corner and ran into her massive, monstrous, handsome beast.

  “Go away,” she said, her voice cracking. “Fairies, please, take the horse and carriage away, before the Beast returns. I don’t want to leave tonight.”

  Maybe tomorrow night she’d change her mind, or the night after that. But right now, what she really wanted was to stay at the castle. With the knowledge that she could leave at anytime if she simply summoned up the means to do so, she was no longer the Beast’s captive.

  For the first time, Belle truly felt like an honored guest. Even more, the castle was beginning to feel like it could be home, in its own way. Not home like the warm little cottage she shared with her father, no, but the warmth in the castle came from the heat the Beast created within her. The fire.

  The horse and carriage disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving behind only the shimmer that freshly-sown magic always seemed to do. When the wind blew again, the shimmer dissipated into the night air.

  Belle turned around and marched back through the castle door, closing it firmly behind her. She stared at the open expanse of the great hall, and breathed in the scent of cut roses, the bouquets that adorned every flat surface imaginable.

  “I do believe I am ready for sleep, now,” she said aloud.

  Perhaps Frederick would hear her, in some other plane or dimension, and he would meet her in her bedchamber.

  Belle smiled and danced up the stairs to her suite.

  ***

  At the edge of the forest, hidden from view, the Beast watched silently as Belle’s chance at escape disappeared into the night. He exhaled slowly, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath, awaiting her decision.

  She had chosen to stay. The very fact humbled him.

  The relief was indescribable. After their rocky start, he’d almost lost all hope of getting Belle to care for him, to be able to look at him and see something other than a monster.