0 comments/  8134 views/  1 favorites

Beast

By: 4ofSwords



Author's note: I ran across this quick grip of stories while doing some maintenance in my erotica folder; it brought a smile to my face as I re-read it, so I thought I might post it here. There's no real erotica here (it was written before I imagined such a thing could be proper!), but it is a precursor to the story that eventually became Cheating Life, so I thought some of you might enjoy it.

- - - - - - -

Siren

No one thinks that anything bad will ever happen to them, or so I hear. Well, I always knew that something would happen to me. I lived in the city, after all, and I read the crime report in the paper. I knew how often people were mugged, or raped, or beaten for no reason at all. I worked the late shift and had to walk a quarter-mile to the parking lot every night, and I wasn't very big or threatening-looking. Of course I did what I could to protect myself - I took the self-defense class at the YMCA and was planning on moving up to Karate, I carried a can of pepper-spray, and when I walked I always kept my eyes up and stayed alert. But I knew, sooner or later – probably sooner – something bad would happen to me. That was just the way life was.

So I wasn't surprised when I saw it all coming well in advance: I got off work the same time as usual, just about midnight, and took the hurried walk to the lot. The streets were empty, except for the occasional speeder and yellow-light runner. My car was lonely in the far corner of the lot, but of course at two in the afternoon I had been lucky to even find a space. There, slumped against the pole of a parking lot light not a dozen yards from my car, blocking the path between where I stood and the relative safety of my Volvo (of course, even in a car you still have to avoid long traffic lights or suffer the likelihood of car-jacking), a disheveled-looking man sang some drunkenly-slurred song a bit too loudly. He saw me as I entered the orange-drenched anti-shadows of the parking lot, before I had decided what to do, and yelled out with a failing voice, could I spare any change? A quarter perhaps?

That was enough for me. I knew how this scheme worked; we had seen the scenario in self-defense class: while you slow long enough to dig in your pocket for a quarter, or just turn to ask him to leave you alone, his buddy jumps out from behind a car or fence or pillar and sticks you in the back with a rusty knife. They take your wallet and leave you without the slightest concern that they probably killed you – if not from the bleeding, then from tetanus. The drunken slur was probably just an act.  

I should have just walked straight to my car; I could have ignored the panhandler, but he was pretty large and really seemed drunk, and I was a bit edgy. So, I casually adjusted my course to follow a walkway away from the lot, as if I hadn't seen or heard him at all. The plan was to walk around the buildings beside the lot and come back to my car from the other side; with any luck, the man would be gone or too drunk to hear me until I locked my door. But he started toward me, yelling something angry and waving his arms, so I stepped up my pace and turned down an alleyway that led between two of the buildings.

When I looked down the alleyway, my heart sank - it was littered with the silhouettes of garbage bags and cardboard boxes, and halfway down a couple of dumpsters almost blocked the path entirely. It was too far to go to the end of the block and follow the streets, and it would have been even worse to turn around and go back through the parking lot and face that man now; beside I could still hear him yelling and sounding not too happy and maybe even getting closer. I figured that at least down the alley there would be no traps set for an unwary citizen, as not too many citizens were stupid enough to enter it. So, I picked my steps, held my satchel to my chest, and made for the far side.

It was darker than I thought once I made it a few yards into the alley, since I blocked the light from behind me. The black shapes of bags and who knows what else swarmed together in a rather threatening manner. The light from the street at the far end was my beacon of hope, and I pressed on, even when I brushed up against something that felt alive and mangy. I drove fear from my mind by concentrating on how I would congratulate myself when I got home for making it through such a gambit without fleeing in terror - maybe I'd have a wine cooler and write about this adventure in the journal I had started, dramatizing it a bit to capture the mood, of course. That drunk man had a knife or a big stick in his hand, hadn't he? I set a brave face and squared my shoulders – this was heroism, here.

By this time I'd picked my way through the refuse as far as the two dumpsters, and had begun to take soggy steps through the cardboard piled up around them. But when a rather stable-seeming box collapsed beneath my shoe and I flung my hand out toward the rim of the dumpster to catch my balance, instead of finding the cold steel I expected, my fingers closed around what was almost certainly another human hand, but cold and lifeless. I lost my composure. With a shriek that embarrassed me even then, I scrambled down the cardboard between the dumpsters, tripped on something, and landed with a great crash on my side in a pile of garbage bags, which broke open and spewed out some rather unpleasant-smelling, sticky, wet things. I had lost my satchel, and with a curse I begin pawing about to find it. The police department would be getting a call about this place in the morning – whether that was an overdosed bum or the mutilated victim of a slasher, I knew they would have to do something about it. I bumped into a garbage can and sent it to the ground with a glaringly noisy clatter. I sat down against the dumpster and rubbed my head. The ground was as wet as the boxes, but I was already filthy, and I was tired, and cursing seemed futile.

Then a door opened on the balcony above me, and a strong yellow light filled the alley. I was spotlighted like a criminal in the police department's NightSun. A silhouetted figure stepped out onto the metal grate and looked down to me. I expected an annoyed barkeep with a handgun to mistake me for a vagrant and chase me away, but the shadowed person said nothing. It was a woman – even though she wore some long, form-concealing coat and the bright light obscured her features, I could tell by the way she leaned against the railing. I could see my satchel now - it was on the other side of me – so I grabbed it and stood, brushing the garbage off my suit.

"Sorry for the noise . . ." I raised a hand to shade my eyes and maybe see her face. "I fell." I really was a mess - there was something disgusting slimed all over the arm of my coat. I called up again, emboldened by the heroic adrenaline in my veins, "You wouldn't happen to have a paper towel I could borrow? My uniform . . ." I twisted my arm in the light to show off the brownish smear. 

She paused, then answered, "Come up. I will take care of it." She had a low voice, but it carried well. She had some immigrant accent I couldn't place – from Eastern Europe, or South America, maybe. Her words sounded thick and deliberate.

She kicked down the fire escape ladder and disappeared back through the door, so, shifting my satchel to my back, I started up the rungs to the balcony. Then I paused. What was I doing? This was still the bad part of town, and an alleyway, and there was no reason to think I was any safer up there where she was than I was discussing the relative value of a quarter with the drunk man from the parking lot. She certainly hadn't exuded much concern or friendliness. I should just go and get to my car and clean myself up when I got home. 

But she wasn't homeless, and I doubted she would rob me, or that this was some kind of set-up. What did the establishment sign beside the door say? I couldn't read it, hanging as I was on the ladder. What was there to worry about, really? It was light up there, and with luck maybe she could show me another way around the block than through the alley.

She came back out the door and I started up the ladder again. When I was near the top, she hooked a hand under my arm and helped me to my feet. Again I paused, twisting my shoulders away from her, but this time I could not think why. She had an exceptionally firm, strong grip. I loosened my shoulders, straightened my coat, and composed myself. She took my hand in her own and turned my arm to dab at my coatsleeve with a paper towel. Her hand was cool, almost cold, and I realized for the first time how hot and sweaty my own were. I looked into her face, through the glare of the balcony light, and could see into her eyes now, the "windows to her soul". Her eyes were large and dark, and her gaze held mine as firmly as I now realized her hand gripped mine. I felt tension build briefly, and I almost tried to pull my hand free, but that all silently slipped away, like an autumn leaf plucked from the tree by a breeze. My shoulders drooped, and some of her calm passed into me. In her eyes I saw not her soul but mine, and she was actively soothing it. She was taking control of my emotions. Her lips parted as the tendril fingers of her psyche wrapped around mine. I realized then that she was calling to me, she had been calling to me, in my mind. She was a whirlpool, a Charybdis, and I was the sailor riding inescapably into her swirl.

And when I realized that, she had me. She had me down on my back on the grate of the balcony, and she was arched over me, her teeth deep in my neck. If there was pain, I didn't notice it, or rather it was removed, as was the cold from the steel grate biting into my naked flesh - I was already hers, and all my feeling went to her. The hungry kiss of her lips, her fingers smoothing back my hair, her leg folded around mine – I sensed these only through her. Even then, as I thought, it was from within her, a mote in the inky depths beneath the swirl.

Still, I couldn't help but feel a bit smug. I had known, hadn't I?

Medusa

I never hated her.

Oh, I hated what she did, and I certainly feared what she might be able to do to me, but I never hated her.

Finding her lair was a simple enough matter: she never looked behind her that night when I followed her back to her rambling estate edging up to the woods outside of the city. She was still glutted after the attack I'd had to watch while I waited, and she was careless.

Nor did breaking and entering pose a problem: whether through arrogance or confidence, she had no significant security system.

I took no real pleasure in my job, not the way I knew some others did. Some of them cackle with glee, or hurl insults, or even derive some form of sexual gratification from doing their killing; they are the ones who hate. I simply administer justice. At times I even pity them, the ones I must kill. I am not always so sure they can help themselves. There is no joy in putting down what was once a face-licking, tail-wagging pet, though it may now be a rabid dog.

When I found her she was sitting in an over-stuffed arm chair, watching a large portrait hang in a heavy, gilded frame on the wall across from her. As I paused in the doorway, deciding between taking her quickly and quietly - by surprise - or announcing myself - allowing her the drama she deserved - she turned her head to face me. It was not a movement of surprise, nor was it slow and deliberate. Rather, it was cordial, as if I had responded to an invitation and had arrived just on time.

Welcome, she said. Rather, she didn't say it, but her eyes spoke it clearly, and I heard it in my head - not in the soft, sultry voice I knew to be hers, but in my own voice, indistinguishable from my thoughts.

She lifted herself from her chair, and I saw that she wore only a heavy black cloak. It was held in place by a large broach perched where her neck met her shoulders, and fell to brush the floor lightly around her feet. The moonlight streaming in from the French doors behind her cast a blue glow around her and shimmered off the heavy, velvet folds in the cloak.

I had expected you, she said, again with the voice of my own thoughts. Her eyes held mine, held me like stone, as she softly crossed the polished floor to where I stood. Her bare feet made no sound, and her hips swayed gracefully beneath the velvet. The cloak parted slightly as she walked, revealing smooth legs, white like marble, long and lithe. I knew I was being seduced - not actively, but by the nature of her being. I was graced with the attentions of a goddess. The beauty of her person demanded worship. Worship demanded sacrifice.

She stopped no more than a foot from me, and it was I who lurched as if fighting momentum; we stood in the moonlight across the room by her armchair. Her eyes left mine to roam over my body, studying me as I had studied her the past few weeks. Her eyes paused and narrowed at my belt, where my weapons hung, and a hot wave of shame washed over me and flushed my face. Had I really come to kill her, to extinguish her, to mar her beauty with a sharpened piece of wood? The belt hung like lead at my waist; I wanted to cover it, to hide it, to send it a hundred miles away. She would curse me, revile me - and rightfully so - for this blasphemy.

I lifted my eyes, and saw that she was once more gazing at my face. I am not angry. Her eyes spoke again, through the voice of my thoughts. I understand, and I forgive you. And then the belt was gone, lifted from my hips. I felt relief like joy; I felt free; she had lifted my guilt; she had accepted me and washed me clean with her forgiveness; I was not unworthy. She touched a finger to my cheek to catch an escaped tear. I worshiped her.

Her dark, knowing eyes slow-danced mine as she drew me to her, beneath her cloak. My clothes were gone, and the heavy silk lining closed on me, washing over my skin. Her arms surrounded me, enfolded me, electrifying my skin. I had not realized it before, but she was taller than me, and as her face came close to mine she seemed almost to loom over me. Her presence was more substantial, more tangible, than my own.

Her skin was smooth, her body supple; her curves molded to fit me. She was cool, not cold - like an autumn breeze - and the warmth of my body seeped into her like rain into grass. I knew that with my heat went my life, and I was frightened. She felt this, and was concerned. With pleading eyes she soothed me, and explained that she needed me. My fear saddened her; she mourned with me. She was so very cold, so fragile, and I would protect her, preserve her. I was a worthy sacrifice. I was worthy.

She kissed me, gently, and I knew I was appreciated. Her lips were like rose petals brushing over my face and neck. I felt she was growing warm; my own heat began returning to me through her skin. With great care and love she kissed the vein on my neck. There was a gentle prick as her sharp teeth slipped through my skin, opening me to her. The sigh of pleasure and relief which ran through her body comforted me. Her warmth grew and mine diminished; with increasing strength she held me to her, supporting me as my toes and fingers gave the last of their life to her.

When she was warm and flushed and safe, and my legs could no longer hold their own weight, she laid me softly to the ground and knelt over me. Her kisses were hot and sticky on my neck; they were salty when she pressed her lips to mine.

My thoughts were slippery, confused and lost within my head, but her eyes smiled down to me in contented pleasure. I will be well, they told me. You have given me peace. Your life has found meaning in mine. This came clearly, but fleetingly, and then was lost to me. She tenderly closed my eyelids; they were no longer in my control. My thoughts were fleeing, disappearing into the darkness of the encroaching shadows, slipping like sand between my fingers. One, however, remained.

I loved her.

Nyx

I don't know what it was that finally pushed me over that precarious edge, what made me decide the time had come. I had pondered it for some time - years, in fact - but I never had the courage to do violence to my own body. The pain in my heart and soul had never outweighed the pain I felt a thousand times over when I imagined a knife in my chest or a bullet in my head.

Maybe it was that one movie, where the man I thought could have been me found someone who loved him just like I wanted to be loved, then threw it all away. Or maybe it was that song on the radio, the one which I had once called my theme song, the one that now only filled me with the despair of what I knew I would never be. Maybe I had just finally been convinced by a friend at work, through an impassioned but meaningless conversation (meaningless to him, anyway) that there were "people" out there who would take the responsibility from me, who would do it without pain, and who would find some use for a life I had given up on.

I went downtown, to the strip, and, because it was summer, all the clubs had spilled out onto the streets and flooded them with a swirling mass of people and music and lights for at least ten blocks. Tables and chairs and couches were scattered about on the sidewalk and the street, and dancers clogged the intersections - which was safe enough since the block had been pyloned off from traffic. Someone had driven an SUV between the barriers and parked it outside a bar - the doors were open and the radio blaring, and the hundred-odd watt bass sounded better than the over-taxed speakers from the clubs. A black-clad man and a barely-clad woman leaned against the mirror-like polish of the sidepanels, entwined in a throbbing, wet embrace.

There were empty bottles and discarded red plastic cups everywhere, but I didn't buy more than Pepsi myself, since I thought it would be best to keep my wits about me for a little while longer. I wandered further down the street, past the pop and hip-hop music, past the alternative stuff and that little jazz club, down to the end of the strip where everyone wore black and silver and leather, and both men and women had eyeliner on. I felt a bit out of place among all the darkness - I was a normal, average-looking fellow wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt. The only thing saving me from complete social rejection was the pair of army-surplus combat boots I had worn to put out the bad-ass vibe and avoid muggers or pickpockets or whatever. Tattoos of an eight-ball and aces, and of Crazy Jane on a Chevy peeked out from beneath my sleeves.

I sat myself down with my Pepsi on a saggy purple-velvet couch just outside a club where they were playing what sounded like a funeral dirge set to a drum machine. I watched the people walk by, especially the women. I hadn't ever paid much attention to them before, but they were pretty attractive in an evil, dangerously seductive kind of way, dressed in their shiny black leather and leopard spots and fishnet stockings, all made up to look like agents of death. Whether with natural beauty or with a mask of blood-red lips and heavy-shadowed eyes, whether thin as a waif and draped in long, flowing black gowns or slightly plump and sensuous beneath tight and suggestive skirts, they all had something to offer, but they certainly weren't offering it to me. Out of the 90 minutes or so I sat watching people from the couch, I caught the fleeting attention of a half-dozen people at most, all of whom seemed more interested in the couch than its occupant; the rest didn't notice me any more than the fire hydrant a few feet away. It was all right, I was used to it... and that wasn't my reason for coming, anyway.

About an hour after I had coaxed the last drop of Pepsi from the bottom of the cup, I stood to stretch my legs, then squeezed my way through the crowd to a promising-looking club across the street. (The couch was instantly taken.) I headed inside, stopping at the door to pay seven dollars for an ink-stamp on my hand and a once-over of disdain, then made my way down the stairs and around the floor to the bar, to begin numbing my senses.


Beast



After leaning against the wall for quite a while and spending about twenty bucks too many on drinks, I thought I spied the one I had been waiting for. She was tall and had long, curly, auburn hair. She wasn't overweight, but neither was she bony and thin - she looked soft, and healthy, though her skin seemed pale in contrast to her black satin dress. She was as goth as anyone else in the room, but elegant goth instead of punk-rock goth, if that makes sense. She was Death, not it's groupie. Most importantly, she had that aura of selfhood - that self-confidence and assurance that people admire in movie characters. It seemed to me that when she looked around the room, her attention was directed toward determining how the people in the room would suit her, rather than if she fit in.

She came gliding down the stairs into the room, and I lost her for a few moments in the crowd. I pushed away from the wall and through the crowd until I saw her again at the other bar. She glided as she moved, buying some expensive drink; grace dripped from her fingers. In her wake all the other women seemed cheap and fraudulent in their dangerous seduction.

I watched her for a long time, shelling out the money when she began to move from club to club to bar. My lower arm was a galaxy of stamps. I usually stayed about a dozen inconspicuous steps to her side, sometimes passing in front of her or casually glancing over when I thought she was looking my way. I wanted desperately to capture her interest without looking like I was trying to. I needed to be where she could notice me, be that magic place where her heavy-lidded eyes would fall on me and she would decided I was the one. But if she saw me she never made a sign; perhaps she hid her notice of me, or perhaps I was to her as I was to everyone else in the room: scenery - something to move around when walking by.

The drinks and the early morning hour had slowed my thoughts when she finally made her way out of a last bar and climbed into a limousine, which was waiting just on the other side of the barriers. 

She left alone. She could not be the one - I had watched her get drunk on something blue, I had seen her careful grace slip away, her aura fade to a quiet haughtiness - she was just another woman.

I sat down next to a planter on the island divider and dropped my chin onto my fists. There were several hours of full dark left, but the crowd in the streets had begun to thin. There was nothing for me here. The women were no less alluring now, but that was not what I had come for. Why spoil a life-long career of virginity after all these years, or, even if they were to notice me, what was more likely: why embarrass myself with a pointless effort that would yield only mockery? The idea of casual sex is a much less frightening thing in the comfort of your own lonely room.

I decided I would spend another hour or so there, make a night of it, then head home to resume the same tragic routine which had brought me here in the first place.

And then two hands, strong but feminine, took hold of my shoulders, and a face pressed up to the side of my neck. "Do not turn," whispered a low, breathy woman's voice. "Do not see me."

There was a momentary urge to pull away and turn around, but my instinct to obey commands won out. She spoke again. "I have watched you watch others; I have seen your thoughts... I know what you desire, to sacrifice yourself to me, like a lamb on the altar . . ." Her voice was sultry now; she brought her face closer and her lips brushed my earlobe. As she spoke, her hands, cool like a rock in the morning, came up to my neck and felt for my pulse. A cold electric thrill ran through me as I realized what was happening - I couldn't believe it even as I was living it.

She pulled her thick, black velvet cloak around us both, and we stood. She pressed herself to me; she was naked beneath the cloak, and even through my clothes I could I could tell the rest of her body was as cold as her hands. Her body was soft and curvy - as she began walking me forward her hips sidled against me and her legs slipped between mine. Every sense but vision was directed behind me, reaching out for any nuance of her.

We headed for a shadowy walkway between two buildings - she pushed me onward until we were enveloped in darkness, and the din of the clubs and the street became a background murmur. I came to a dead end, a stone wall; she turned me and pushed me back against it. Her dark shadow loomed over me, and for a brief moment, fear took me.

But then she enveloped me in her cloak and her lips closed over mine and her hands grabbed my chest and pulled my shirt down and I was naked, down to the bare feet, and I had no time to figure out that impossibility as everything was happening as I had imagined it, as I had dreamed, except even more because it was real. I could do nothing but submit as her kisses became frantic and noisy and hungry, her teeth nipping at my ears and chin, and she pushed me down and straddled me, her cloak settling over us so we became one black lump on the ground, squirming as she covered me with her hands and her lips.

After I don't know how long, she sat up, wiping her lip with the back of a finger, smudging away a bit of my blood. She relaxed, and looked me over. I would have expected her to be panting for breath after that salvo of long kisses, but she was still. Her long, dark hair disappeared into the shadow of her cloak, and I could imagine where her full lips might fit into the outline of her face. She was tall, and not thin, soft, and strong - if I had tried to wrestle out from under her I knew there would have been no escape for me, unless she wanted it. But I did not want to fight her, or run away; I wanted to be hers, I wanted to give myself to her - that was why I came.

Then she placed her hand on my face, her thumb on my lips, and she spoke. It was in some other language, completely unfamiliar, but from her mouth it was dark and beautiful. They were words of possession - my life was hers now - and my blood burned within me, eager to be done with my body and sate hers.

With a hawk-like swoop she was on me, biting into my neck. Her full weight held me down, trapped me as she took numb flesh with blood, biting again, sinking her teeth deeper into me. She crouched over me, and the cloak fell closed around us — she was a pitch-black night on me, drawing the heat from my body; her teeth and tongue pillaged me, reaching further in for even more. I was hers, I was inside her, she had my life, and she wanted my soul.

But then she was gone.

The loss of her ripped into me like a cannonball in the stomach, and I sobbed with the enormity of it.

Someone came running up and knelt over me, pinning my shoulders against the convulsions of my tears. Fingers pressed into my neck, where blood still somehow managed to gush out. It hurt like the devil's pitchfork, but my eyes didn't much feel like opening, and I couldn't seem to move my arms or my mouth to tell them to bugger off. A bright light flashed around and passed over my eyes and made my head hurt, and there were a lot of noisy voices, but that didn't matter. The body wracking sobs were over, but I felt wrong, alone... I was a soul without life... I was hers, I needed to be with her, to be in her, but it was dark and she was gone and I was cold and alone and stranded.

I was being jostled, but that faded away.

At last I looked up and I saw her, her deep dark eyes intense in the moonlight. She had been there, always, and was laughing at me... but I needed her. I stretched out my hand to her, pleadingly, and she took it, lifting me up. She was huge, and growing bigger, or it was I who was smaller. She seemed pleased with me as she opened her lips, showed her teeth, and swallowed me. They closed behind me, sealing me into the endless, empty night which savored my soul.

I was finally, fully, hers.

And I was nothing.

Fury

She called it upon herself.

11:18pm, Thursday the 3rd. Four miles outside the city line on N. Charles Road. Subject's residence.

The woods had provided ample coverage for unnoticed surveillance of the estate. Only two guards remained on the premises - one at the gate, one in the manor. She had left at nightfall, and the maids two hours before. Two more guards were due in less than an hour. They didn't use dogs, which was good; dogs make better guards than men. She wouldn't have abided dogs anyway, and they would have been useless around her.

She would kill again tonight. She had left earlier than expected, and it would be impossible to try to find her in the city. There was nothing to do but wait. 

Waiting becomes routine.

I had warded the periphery of her estate, except for the gate. That's a lot of rice. Once she arrived back, the last ward would be placed, and she would be trapped inside, with no escape. Even if she lived and I did not, she would be confined to Her grounds indefinitely, likely to starve. After tonight, she wouldn't kill again.

It was 12:00am, and the third shift arrived. The two new guards had only just come in the gate when she drove up, early. Many of them - her kind - prefer to be chauffeured, but she was more independent, somewhat roguish. She parked her fancy, black European car and disappeared into the house. I completed the ward and hopped the fence.

There were no theatrics, and no violence. They are too messy and noisy, and far too risky. A small gas pill lobbed between them while they were talking, and the two guards outside were safely unconscious for eight hours or so. They were professional, but unprepared.

Many had died here, on these grounds - my apprentice among them. He had been prepared for the job - it wasn't his first - but he was not ready for her, or for her power. 

She had been ready for him. She would have broken him, remade him for Her own amusement before finishing him; she would have seen him coming. I should have seen it coming. It was not my fault, but I could have prevented it.

The door guards were dispatched in the same way as their colleagues, and the house was gained. I marked the entryway with a cross - it was mostly habit, but occasionally it was effective. She was not hard to find, in a drawing room upstairs, sitting in an over-stuffed armchair, watching a large picture hang in a heavy, gilded frame on the wall across from Her. She looked up when I stepped into the room, possibly surprised, but hiding it well. "Hello," she said. Her voice was easy and carefree, somewhat inviting. Her voice was less certain when she waited a moment but got no response. She looked me over. "So they sent a woman, this time..."

She stood from the chair and raised herself to her full height, which was impressive. She stood, then finally approached. Her cloak swept back, and beneath she was nude, and perfect. She was strong, but supple; had there been life in her flesh, she would have been the model of health. Her face was both beautiful and pretty, and her hair was clean and straight and long. Her lips were full and seductive, and her eyes were dark, and deep enough to fall into.

She looked on me with desire, though I was homely, and short, and scrawny.

She looked on me with eyes that wanted to devour me, eyes that were gateways to a void. Her eyes caught to mine, pulled me into her, poured me into the bottomless pit. She was empty, and could never be filled.

But I was full, and could never be emptied. She grasped for an ego, and found the endless river of Purpose. She held me, and drained me, but it cost me nothing and gained her less. She shied away, cowering back against the wall. Her eyes were no longer devouring, but defensive of the emptiness behind - she clung to it like a talisman, like treasure. The world closed in around her. "You've trapped me here, haven't you?" 

The fear of reality, not as she would have it, but as it inescapably was, took her, and the animal came out. Her nails were claws and her teeth, weapons; "I could kill you now - before you could even move..." It was an empty threat, and we both knew it.

It cost her much, but at last she threw herself before me. "I beg you to spare me - show me the mercy which I have lacked... Please!" The last word was ripped from her lips in a wail. Her old accent was strong - she had been broken and reduced. If she was released now, she would flee. It would be years before she'd be bold enough to return to the city, to kill in my precinct.

But she'd had her chance for mercy long ago, in another time and place. No one becomes what she was without choosing it. She had never shown mercy to anyone - not to my apprentice, not to the young man behind the club at the strip, and not to whomever's blood was on Her lips tonight. She deserved no mercy. I had no desire to give it to her. But she got it.

I spoke: "Release those souls you hold within you. They aren't yours, and that's why they'll never satisfy you. Do this and repent, and nothing will keep you here."

There was no moment of hesitation, no time to consider; "No!" she snarled. "It cannot be done! They are mine!"

And it was over. Whatever half-life she had vanished when her head left her body. There was no mess. Even her corpse would not survive the night. I opened the window, so a breeze could catch the dust and scatter it. I can't know what happened to the souls she stole, or even her own soul she bartered. I hope they're free now.

She had called it upon herself. It was what she had really wanted all along.



Beast



*This is my first attempt at writing a story. Any feedback would be appreciated. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy.*

Chapter 1: Won't Go Back

It was cold. The chill in the air bit through her like a piranha, making the fingers she used to clasp her sweater closed feel shredded and bloodless. Her feet were bare, numb as they carried her over a terrain covered in patches of dead grass and rugged gravel. A wide, silver moon was the only light that cut through the inky darkness. 

Looking over her shoulder, she picked her way over the ground carefully. Her heart beat a dull thud in her chest; if she made any noise, she knew he'd hear it. She knew he'd come after her. 

Tremors racked her rail thin body, the flimsy slip of a nightgown she wore barely a fitting barrier against the winter night. Her head whipped around at the sound of a faint howling in the distance. 

"You can't run away from me, you bitch!" 

The fear that had wrapped itself around her now threatened to snap her in two. She couldn't help the scream that was ripped from her throat as she heard his voice, then his heavy footsteps, come from not too far behind her. She broke into a blind run, unable to feel the branches of the pine trees scratching and pulling at her clothing and flesh. 

"You're a smart one," the raspy voice growled, a sick amusement plain in his tone. "How'd you manage to break loose?" 

She kept running, her breath forming a fog around her face. Her right knee clipped a fallen pine, catching on its rough edge. Warm blood trickled down her shin, but she didn't feel it. 

"If you know what's good for you, you'll come home with me," the voice said again, quieter this time. This was a dangerous thing -- he was not the type who yelled in his rage. He was silent in his torture, soundless in his wrath.

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. They froze on her cheeks. Gulping at the air, the iciness served to clear her head. Must get away, was her only thought. Can't let him catch me. She took a sharp right, careening wildly through the dense forest. Her only hope was that it was too dark to see her.

The howling that had been so faint just minutes before seemed to be growing louder with every step she took. In fact, it distracted her. 

She had but a moment to register that she was falling, and then, nothing.

*

The radio wasn't receiving any reception. Roland McTierney fiddled with the dial, despite knowing from experience that it wouldn't do any good. He turned his attention back to the road, his headlights cutting into the blanket of night.

His truck continued along the winding road that led to his cabin. His surroundings were masked by darkness, but Roland didn't need light; he'd grown up and spent most of his life in these mountains, and he knew his way around these roads like the back of his hand. Even then, his night vision was extremely good, allowing him to see things that would be hidden to the human eye. Credit my genes, he thought, smirking as his eyes swept over the landscape. 

His ears perked to the sound of howling in the near distance. Strange, Roland mused. They don't usually come so near the highway. All his senses alert, he took his foot off the gas, his truck slowing to a crawl as he looked more closely at the encircling forest. 

Suddenly a white form tumbled from the edge of the trees and onto the surface of the road. "Shit!" Roland cursed, swerving his vehicle so as not to run over the body. Turning off the engine, he jumped out of the truck and slammed the door. He broke into a run, hoping whatever it was that had landed in the middle of the highway was still alive. 

Roland knelt beside the body, rolling it over gently and feeling for a pulse. His breath caught when he saw that it was a battered young woman who lay unconscious before him. Bruises and dried blood coated her skin and her tattered clothing, and her long hair was tangled and matted to her scalp. Swearing softly, he hurried to pull off his flannel jacket in order to cover her with it. He was amazed she was alive, considering the extreme cold and the condition she was in. What's happened to you? he wondered. 

Gingerly, Roland worked his arms underneath the frail girl. Lifting her and cradling her to his chest, he was shocked at how light she was. He could break her into pieces without any effort. "You're gonna be alright," he murmured, not knowing if she could hear him. Moving carefully in case she had any broken bones, he opened the passenger door of his truck and laid her on the seat. He rushed around to the driver's seat, cautiously placing the girl's head in his lap after he'd buckled himself in. 

Turning the key in the ignition, Roland's mind was buzzing. The nearest hospital was at least thirty miles away, and with the state the girl was in he didn't know if there was time to waste. Deciding his cabin was much closer, he straightened the wheel and floored it. 

"Don't worry, little one," Roland murmured, smoothing his hand over the girl's hair. "You're safe now." 

*

She could hear a fire crackling; it glowed orange behind her eyes. Suddenly feeling very heavy, she moaned, every nerve in her body burning with exhaustion. 

"Quiet now, you'll make yourself sick."

The shushing was gentle and masculine, an almost reprimand. Turning her head toward the sound, she was able to lift her eyelids just enough to see the blurry outline of someone sitting near her head. 

"There now, go back to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning." 

And then she was sinking, the weight of blackness proving too much for her to fight.

*

Roland sat anxiously at the bedside, keeping vigilant watch over the girl. He had used soap and warm water to clean the blood from her body, using gauze to patch up any wounds. He'd replaced the ragged, paper thin nightgown she had been wearing with one of his sweatshirts. It was huge on her, but it was the best he could do. She had a fever and continuous shivers; every hour or so she woke up for brief moments, disoriented and weak. 

Rubbing the sore muscles in his neck, Roland stood up and walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He stifled a yawn, fighting the fatigue that swept over him. He had given his bed to the girl, and with the added worry over her condition Roland was in no mood to sleep. 

Plugging in the coffee pot, Roland walked to the large double-paned window that overlooked his property. Sometime during the night it had begun to snow; the ground was covered in a light blanket of white, and with the reflecting moonlight the earth appeared to glitter. 

Thoughts turning back to the young girl in his bed, Roland sighed deeply. Lord knew she'd been through hell; the idea that that hell had been in these mountains disturbed him greatly. As far as he had always known, the Wolfsbane range was a peaceful place. He was eager for the girl to regain consciousness so he could find out exactly what had happened.

That's if you can get her to tell you, Roland thought, stirring cream and sugar into his coffee. He knew more than most that some secrets were worth keeping. 

Roland took his steaming mug of coffee back to the bedroom, settling in the leather armchair in the corner of the room with a heavy sigh. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his dark brown hair hung shaggily across his face. If she woke up right now, you'd probably scare her half to death, Roland thought with dark amusement. In truth, he did cut an intimidating figure. His hair came down to his shoulders, and looked sorely in need of a brushing. Dark stubble covered the entire length of his jaw, and his eyes were a piercing silver-gray. A jagged, pearly scar ran from his left eyebrow and down beneath the whiskers on his chin. His frame was broad-shouldered and long -- even underneath his bulky sweater and jeans, one could tell he was mostly muscle. 

Settling back in the chair, Roland took a sip of coffee and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He studied the girl from afar. She appeared to now be in a deep sleep, a slight frown marring her youthful face. She was tiny, and quite pale; she looked white, even against the white of the bed sheets. Her long, blonde hair lay in a halo around her head, spilling across the pillows. Full eyelashes curled against her cheeks, and her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. 

Roland smiled a bit. She's kinda pretty, he thought, taking another sip of coffee. How anyone could raise a hand to such a small, sweet looking creature was beyond him, and a swell of anger coursed through him as he clenched a fist. 

He wanted to protect this girl. But the only way he could protect her was if he knew what they were up against. Sleep for now, little one, Roland thought somberly. It seems we've got a fight ahead of us.

*

She opened her eyes, the space around her gradually coming into focus. She was in a bedroom, its outline fuzzy in the aftermath of a deep sleep. Reaching up to wipe away the last remnants of unconsciousness, she noticed a figure in the corner.

It was a man, and he appeared to be dozing. He held a mug in his right hand, and it was tipping precariously in his slackened grip. Alarm reverberated through the girl, until she reasoned that if the man had wanted to harm her, he probably would have done so already. 

She stretched carefully, wincing at the soreness in her limbs. Her head was throbbing, as though she had taken a blow. Carefully, she reached a hand up to her forehead, noting that even the gentlest of touches caused her pain.

As if he could sense she was awake, the man in the armchair woke up with a start. The girl froze, her eyes transfixed on the most intense, unusual eyes she had ever seen.

His silver stare cut right through her; had it not been for concern she saw in them, she might have screamed. "Hello," the man said quietly, leaning forward in the chair. "How are you feeling?"

The man's kind voice seemed out of place, considering how he looked. He was a tall man, much larger than she, and he seemed to fill the room as he stood up and walked slowly to the bedside. With his unkempt hair and angular face, he was attractive in the rugged sense. There was no question that this man was capable of being very menacing if he wanted to be. However, his presence seemed to have a calming effect. The girl relaxed a little in spite of herself.

"I'm okay, I guess," she managed to croak, her throat feeling dry and raspy. 

"There's a glass of water on the nightstand, if you want it," the man offered, gesturing to the small oak table near the bed. "You've had quite the night."

The girl looked toward the window, noticing that it appeared to be early morning. "How long was I asleep?" she asked worriedly, taking a swallow of the water and relishing the taste as it soothed her throat. 

The man shrugged. "About nine hours, I'd say," he answered, never taking his eyes off of her. They sat for a few moments in silence, the girl drinking the water, and the man watching her contemplatively. 

"I'm Roland, by the way," he said finally, reaching over to take the glass when she'd emptied it. He paused a moment to admire the intense blue of her eyes. "Roland McTierney."

"Nice to meet you," the girl replied. "I'm Molly. Molly Thomas."

Roland smiled, and Molly had to look away. Friendliness was not something she was used to; she was unsure how to react to it. "It's nice to meet you as well, Molly," Roland said, his voice low and rumbling.

Molly blushed, her eyes dipping to where her hands lay clasped in her lap. "Thank you very much for taking care of me, Mr. McTierney," she said, anxiety beginning to swell within her chest. "I'm sure I've inconvenienced you enough as it is, though, so I should be going."

Roland held out a hand to stop her as she made to get out of the bed. He frowned when he saw her flinch, knowing she expected him to hit her. Another wave of anger washed over him as he thought of the abuse the poor thing must have suffered in her past. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly. He waited for her to look at him before he spoke again. "You are not an inconvenience," he assured her. "I want to help you. Please allow me to." 

Molly stared up at him, her head tilted almost all the way back in order to meet his eyes. She didn't know whether or not she could trust him. She'd always been warned against strangers... then again, those familiar to her had never exactly done her any favors. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. McTierney, but..." she began, only to be cut off.

"Please, call me Roland," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He tried not to sigh in frustration when Molly immediately shifted away from him. Gritting his teeth, he forced his voice to remain calm. "When I found you last night, you were in a right state. You could've died. All I want is to see to it that you regain your strength. Then, if you'd like, I can take you home -"

"No!" Molly interjected, the force of it causing her voice to break. "I won't go back! I won't!" Tears welled in her eyes, and she began to heave with the signs of an oncoming panic attack.

Roland, alarmed, attempted to place his hands on her shoulders. She writhed away from him, her legs becoming tangled in the sheets as her upper body tumbled to the floor. Molly landed hard on the palms of her hands; her fingers clawed at the wooden floor as she tried to stand up. Her legs were like that of a newborn foal, shaky and unwilling to support her weight. "Let me go!" she screamed, fear causing her throat to feel constricted. "Let me out of here!"

She fought to stand, and only doubled her efforts when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. "Let me go!" she screamed again, flailing her fists, trying to free herself. But the arms around her held strong.

"You're safe," Roland murmured, raising a hand to pet her hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "I'm not going to hurt you. If you don't want to go home, you don't have to. No one's going to hurt you here. You're safe." He repeated his words over and over again, trying to penetrate her hysterical haze.

Eventually Molly went limp in his arms, her head resting against his chest. She was immobile and silent, but she no longer struggled against him. She was so quiet that Roland couldn't even hear her breathing. "Is it alright if I put you back in bed?" he whispered, still petting her hair. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. Scooping up her slight form, Roland turned and deposited her on the mattress, taking time to straighten the sheets and tuck them in tightly around her. Within seconds Molly had fallen into another deep sleep.

Taking his coffee mug and the water glass, Roland walked out of the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him. Christ, what had he gotten himself into? She was definitely scared of something. Something at home, wherever that was. What was it she was running away from? 

After straightening up the kitchen, Roland sank down onto the couch and laid his head against the armrest. He was exhausted after his hours-long vigil, and the effort it had taken to calm Molly down had taken the last of his strength. He closed his eyes, thoughts of the girl plaguing his mind until he finally fell asleep. 



Beast



Peter, his three daughters, and two sons, lived on a small horse ranch bordered on three sides by an old growth forest. They had once lived in the city, but a change in their fortunes brought them to this place just outside the small town of Bramble. Violet, the youngest daughter, and her husband Stephen lived in what had been the bunkhouse. Daisy, the middle daughter, and her husband Gabe, lived in a converted outbuilding. Lilly, the oldest daughter, still lived in the main house with Peter. 

Violet, though not intentionally mean, was rather dismissive of the rest of the family. She was the most beautiful of the sisters with coal black hair tumbling in perfect ringlets to just below her shoulders. Her eyes were the exact shade of her namesake flower. She was barely over five feet tall but her body was perfectly proportioned. Her waist was tiny, her hips were gently flared and her breasts were just slightly more than her husband could take into his mouth. Her bottom lip was a little fuller than its mate, seeming to pout. She was accomplished at everyday household tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and mending, but she never set foot outside if she could help it. Whatever her faults, her husband adored her. Every spare cent from their share of the ranch's profits he spent buying her some little bauble or trinket just to see her face light up with pleasure.

Daisy was as pretty as her name with light golden blond hair that fell in a smooth waterfall to her waist when she took it down to wash and brush it. Normally though, she kept in on two long braids wrapped like a crown around her head. Her eyes were the clear blue of a spring sky and her nose had a faint dusting of freckles. Her mouth was almost too wide for her oval face but she always seemed to be smiling. She was even more accomplished at housekeeping chores than Violet and kept both her and her father's homes spotless. She had a willowy figure. She was a few inches taller than her younger sister but her hips were more slender and her breasts were so small as to not need a corset. She and Gabe and been married since the day she turned eighteen, six years ago, but despite trying to have children they had resigned themselves to caring for their horses, dogs, and cats as substitutes.

Lilly was prettier than Daisy and didn't like staying indoors much. Only if the weather was horrible and she could curl up in her favorite chair by the fire with a good gothic novel did she ever enjoy being inside. Her hair was a glossy brown with subtle coppery highlights but instead of perfect ringlets or tame smoothness, it was uncontrollably wavy. Though, thankfully, it didn't often get very tangled, she had no idea what to do with it. It fell down her back and teased her hips when it was loose but she usually just tied it up in a tail and braided it. She liked to wear a vest over her shirt and kept her braid under the vest so it wouldn't get in the way of her chores. Her eyes were some indeterminate shade of either green, blue, or grey, depending on what mood she was in or what color shirt she was wearing. Her figure was what Daisy called 'generous' and what Violet called 'plump.' Her hips, while not overly wide, were just a little curvier than the average village woman's. Her belly required a corset to make it flat and her breasts, though not huge, overfilled her hands when she cupped them, and her hands were large for a woman's.

Peter was a loving father to all five of the younger people living with him. His health had been failing for years so he wasn't able to do the farm work like he used to. Daisy took care of him during the day while Lilly took over his share of the chores. These were usually helping the three hired girls from the village in the garden or gathering firewood from the fringes of the forest. The village girls were so uneasy about going into the woods, even by a few feet, that after a few weeks into every winter Lilly just told them to push the hand cart she would load from a couple of yards out of the trees back to the house. She loaded her horse's cart herself. This task usually took all day and had to be done every three or four days. Her brothers were too busy taking care of their dozen Morgan horses to also do all of the ordinary chores.

The village girls told Lilly that a Beast lived in a castle in the middle of the forest. They could never agree on what this Beast looked like. Some said he resembled a bull, some said a boar, some said a wolf, some said a wild cat. They all agreed he must have a ravenous appetite because hunters had never been able to find any game in his woods, not even such small things as birds or rabbits. They also agreed that the Beast must be immortal. Their grandfathers had told them tales of him and their grandfather's grandfathers had in turn been the ones to tell them. It was speculated that the Beast may have been a man once but if so it had been so long that his beast's nature had surely taken over the man's.

Lilly wasn't one to believe in tales but something about the towering black pine and fir trees sent shivers racing up her spine and gooseflesh springing up on her arms. She was always careful to keep the farmhouse in sight when she gathered deadfall for firewood. 

The first day of August dawned like any other. Lilly was up before dawn and out the door as the first rays of the sun lightened the eastern sky. Daisy was going into the house as Lilly was leaving. She would make breakfast for the family. Lilly had just finished cleaning her stallion's stall when she heard Daisy scream. She dropped everything and ran back to the house. Gabe, Stephen, and even Violet were also running. Being closest and not hampered by long skirts, Lilly was first to burst in the kitchen door. 

"Daisy!" she called out.

"In here," came the barely audible reply. Her voice came from the direction of their father's bedroom.

"What's wrong?" Lilly asked as she hurried down the hall and into Peter's room. What she saw made her stop in her tracks. She vaguely heard Gabe call out for Daisy. Daisy ran into his arms weeping, giving Lilly a clearer view of Peter's bed. She walked dazedly toward the still figure that had once been her father. Stephen and Violet arrived just then. Violet took one glimpse and let out a wail of grief. 

Peter was lying on his back with his hands folded carefully across his chest. He almost looked like he was posing except that his chest didn't rise or fall with breathing. His face, while serene, was an ashy grey. When Lilly reached out to touch his hand, it was ice cold and stiff. She turned to the rest of her family.

"We need to call the minister," she said. Violet and Daisy just huddled in their husband's arms and sobbed. Stephen and Gabe were fully occupied by their wives so Lilly went to the study herself to use the rotary phone Peter had gotten a year ago. He'd been so proud the day he brought it home. The phone company had laid the lines to their house just the week before. They were one of only a handful of families in or around the village that had a phone. Thankfully, the minister was one of the few who had one so Lilly didn't have to call a neighbor and wait while they fetched the minister and he called her back.

She made the call as brief as she could then returned to her family. When she left the study she heard their voices coming from the living room. When she appeared in the doorway, the room fell silent. She didn't walk into the room; she knew what they'd been talking about. 

"Remember what Father told us?" asked Violet. "When he died, the one of us who was married and had the most children would live in the house."

"That leaves me out," said Daisy. "I know I probably won't have any and that big house would seem too empty with just me and Gabe."

"And since I'm not married and have no prospects I'll have to move out," said Lilly quietly.

"Well it's only fair," said Stephen. "Violet and I decided a few weeks ago to start our family and the little house we have now won't be big enough."

"We'll let you stay here for a little while, Lilly," said Violet. "Long enough for us to move all our things out of our house so you can move into it."

"I won't need much time to get my things together," said Lilly quietly. "I'll be ready to move out as soon as you have everything you want out of your house. Father always wanted the big house filled with children. Seems like he's going to get his wish." 

She turned and went upstairs to her bedroom. It was her favorite room in the house. It faced west and had a large window with a seat in the south west corner. She liked to sit there and read on the rare summer evenings she got all the chores done before dark. She looked around at thirty year's worth of possessions. There wasn't much she wanted to take with her. She didn't have much. A few clothes, a few books, multiple hair ties, and a single piece of jewelry were all she owned.

The piece of jewelry was a heavy pendant of dark gold. Its chain was delicate but sturdy, not getting tangled or knotted no matter how many times it was shuffled around Lilly's drawer as she removed or replaced her clothes. The pendant itself was oval in shape, about the size of a half dollar. It had the strangest image in relief on the face of it. It was of a Beast walking upright like a man, with the clawed feet of a wolf, and short horns with a slight curve just above its ears. Though its ears had the same placement as a human's they were sharply pointed and looked rather wolfish. Its face was flat and almost human looking but had high cheekbones that gave it a slightly feline appearance. Lilly had looked at it under a magnifying glass and could see the very tips of upper and lower canines just touching its lips. The Beast was clothed like a human but what she could see of its body was completely covered in shaggy fur. 

Even more strange than the image on the pendant was where Lilly had found it. She'd found it in the forest. She'd been gathering firewood all day, having to go deeper into the woods than usual; winter was almost over and she'd already picked up all the deadfall from the fringes. She was turning to carry her last armload to her horse's cart when a stray shaft of sunlight managed to pierce the thick canopy. The light reflected off something shiny hanging from the rough bark of one of the pines. Having what her family called an insatiable curiosity, she felt drawn to whatever it was. She discovered that it was a gold pendant, hanging within easy reach. She'd looked around to see if she could catch a glimpse of whoever had left such a valuable piece of jewelry dangling precariously on a prominent piece of bark but could see nothing but enormous tree trunks in every direction. 

As she tried to see through the gloom under the branches, the shaft of sunlight that had shown her the necklace disappeared and she was left in the deepening dusk under the trees. Thankfully, she could still see her wood cart. She hurried to the necklace. She had to drop the armload of wood she was carrying she could slip it over her head. She tucked it into her shirt where it nestled comfortably between her breasts as if it had always been meant to be there. She made quick work of loading the last of the firewood onto her cart. She had been careful to turn the cart facing the direction she'd come; out of the woods.

As she stood in her bedroom, examining the pendant for what seemed like the hundredth time, she remembered the feeling of rightness she'd felt when she put it on. She hadn't worn it since that day, not wanting to lose it when she did her chores, but she slid the chain over her head now, liking the way it settled heavily against the tops of her breasts.

Three weeks later, Violet and Stephen had finally moved everything out of their house. Lilly had bundled her clothes and books into her bed linens and moved everything in one trip. She took apart her bed, carried the pieces to her new home in two trips, and set it back up again herself. No one helped her do any moving though she'd done her fair share of moving her youngest sister's things. Her brothers had told her not to worry with helping on the ranch any more. They'd hired a couple of village boys to do the chores. They also told her that Sebastian, the stallion that was supposed to be hers, would have to stay in the stable to perform stud duties for a very expensive new brood mare they'd just bought.

She complied with their requests to keep the peace but she silently fumed at the injustice of it all. Peter was barely cold in his grave and already the others were dismissing her and claiming what should have been hers. She still had to gather firewood for everyone; no one else would go far enough into the forest to get enough deadfall to fill three bins and three stoves. Thankfully Violet had recently gotten a catalogue that had featured electric kitchen stoves and decided she wanted one. Stephen told her he'd get her one when he sold the latest batch of yearlings next month. Lilly knew that when Daisy saw how much less of a mess it was to cook with an electric stove instead of a wood burning one she'd want one too. That would mean a lot less work for Lilly.

Stephen sold the yearlings and ordered the electric stove for Violet the next month. It took six weeks to arrive. Summer was almost over by then and the storms of Fall had started. Daisy did exactly what Lilly thought she would when she saw how much Violet liked using the new stove; she asked Gabe to get her one too. 

It was the middle of October then. Violet had just announced she and Stephen were expecting their first child sometime in May. Daisy had convinced Gabe to move into the big house so she could be closer to Violet when her time came. Lilly wasn't invited to move back. She didn't expect to be but it still hurt. 

The village boys Stephen and Gabe had hired had braved the dark woods and now provided all the firewood for the big house. The girls that worked the gardens during the summers had taken over canning the fruits of their labors. Lilly did all her own chores and housework. She made do with the wood stove for cooking and heating, canned all her fruits and vegetables herself, and took care of her small flock of chickens . 

She was out in the woods today. The air tasted like a storm was coming and she wanted to be prepared. She'd finished all her canning and wanted to hurry and gather as much firewood as she could before the storm hit. She was deeper into the forest than she'd ever been and the wind had started picking up. Dry pine needles were caught in small whirlwinds. What little underbrush there was this far in was tossed about and caught on the skirt she wore over a pair of men's trousers. She wore a heavy coat but the wind seemed to find the smallest gaps in her clothing. She was soon chilled. By the time the cart was filled, the wind was howling through the trees. Lilly stacked the final armload into the cart, picked up the handles, wrapped the harness around her shoulders and started pulling it in the direction it was facing.

After just a few minutes, Lilly was starting to worry. She thought she'd left the cart pointed in the direction of her house but she should have been able to see the edge of the trees by now. She thought for a minute. She was horrified to remember that she had not carefully turned it around like she usually did. In her hurry to gather as much deadfall for firewood as possible before the storm broke she hadn't even gone in a straight line from her house. The temperature had fallen swiftly and the wind showed no sign of letting up. She thought she was in the short branch of the forest that cut off the ranch from the village. She took a deep breath and decided to just keep going in the direction she already was. Surely she'd break out of the trees any minute now. When she let out her breath it was in a fog. She walked a little faster. 

She had only gone a few yards when the uneven ground of the woods turned suddenly smooth. The trees opened up slightly to reveal that she'd stumbled upon a road. 

"I wonder if there's any truth to the tales those silly girls told me," she said aloud. "I mean, why would a road be in the middle of a forest no one goes into?" She laughed nervously at herself and kept going. She walked briskly along the road for almost a quarter hour. When she saw something glint in the near distance, she slowed slightly. When she got near enough to see that it was a wrought iron gate, silver gilt in places, she slowed her pace further.

When she reached the gate she pulled her cart to the side of the road and unbuckled the harness from her shoulders. She walked to the gate and tried to see some sign of habitation. All she could see was darkness. The moon shone for a few seconds before more clouds raced to cover it. She caught a brief glimpse of a sort of park. It was peppered with different kinds of trees, most of which were rapidly losing their leaves due to the wind. 

Lilly decided the best choice was to go into the park and try to find a caretaker. The trees and shrubs looked to be cared for instead of just growing wild. Surely no decent person would leave her outside in this weather. It hadn't started to rain yet but the wind was so fierce she could barely stand.

"Hello!" she called. "Is anyone there?" The wind carried her voice away. She put her hands on the gate and pushed. They swung open with an odd whirring sound. She walked through, feeling the wind's bite even more when she left the denseness of the forest. She wrapped her coat tightly around her body and followed the path. It wasn't perfectly straight but neither did it curve every which way without a clear destination. It was going more or less in the same direction it had been in the forest. 

She'd walked for another quarter hour when lightening flashed, revealing an enormous stone castle almost directly ahead of her. She stopped dead in her tracks and just stared. The villagers were right after all. There was a castle in the middle of the forest. Lightening flashed again, accompanied by a thunderclap loud enough to rattle her teeth. This seemed to be a herald for rain. It came sheeting out of the sky in icy cold torrents. Lilly was soaked to the skin in seconds. Her heavy coat was wool and the water it absorbed added so much weight it made it difficult for her to walk. 

But walk she did, all the way up the rest of the road that had widened into a circle drive with a fountain in the center. She counted the front steps when she got to them. There were seven and thankfully there was a wrought iron handrail up the center. The extra weight from her coat was almost too much for her already tired muscles to carry. She made it up the steps to the front doors. When she tried the door handle, it lowered completely allowing her to push the door inward on silent hinges. Though it was two stories tall and at least six feet wide it swung open easily with the slightest push. 

She slipped inside the castle, closing the door and leaning against it. Lightening flashed again, illuminating the foyer through the enormous multi-paned windows that flanked the front doors. The floor was covered with stone tiles and two rows of marble columns marched into the depths of the castle. Thunder boomed hollowly, rolling and echoing in the vastness of the empty room. 

She shivered, partly from cold, partly from fear of the unknown. She glanced around nervously, her eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. When lightening flashed again she saw a normal sized door to her left. Relieved to see anything normal in this strange place, she walked the dozen steps to it. It, too opened easily to reveal what looked like a cloak room. There was a single candle in a sconce on the wall. She was surprised to see that it was lit. She shed the heavy wool coat and draped it across one of the many empty wooden hangers that occupied two rails on either side of the room. This room was also very large, with hangers enough for well over a hundred coats, cloaks, or jackets. She wasn't worried about the floor as it was the same stone as the foyer. Water wouldn't ruin it.




Beast



She tried to take the candle sconce down but it was secured to the wall. She closed the door and looked around the foyer again. From this vantage point she could see a faint flickering glow from down a hallway to the right of the entrance. Being the only light, she walked toward it. Without the wool coat it was easier to walk but even wet the coat had provided some warmth. Now all she wore was a pair of men's trousers and shirt, a calf length skirt, corset, underclothes and a vest. The stitching on her shoes was all that held them together and her stockings were so thin she may as well have not worn any. The cold penetrated her wet clothes, raised goosebumps all over her body and made her nipples come to almost painful points. The only spot of warmth was the pendant nestled between her breasts. She crossed her arms and rubbed them through the worn cotton as she walked, trying to instill a little warmth back into them. 

She finally reached the door at the end of the hall. She turned to her right and saw through the open door a room that could be described as cozy if it weren't so eerie. The room was as large as the entire downstairs of the home she'd shared with her father but even so it was small by the standards of the castle. There was a fire crackling away in a fireplace on the left side of the room. Though the fireplace was big enough to roast a bull, only the center held cheery flames. A pair of matching armchairs faced each other across a small round table in front of the fire. The table had a single place setting with the most tantalizing aromas coming from it. The only light was from the fireplace and a single votive candle on the table in a tall holder that looked like a miniature of the columns in the foyer, leaving the rest of the room in darkness. She was drawn forward by the smell of food. She had no idea how late it was and she had had no firewood this morning to cook her breakfast. She remembered that the last time she'd eaten had been the day before.

"Hello?" she called again. "Would anyone mind if I ate something?" 

She got the oddest feeling that there was someone in the darkness of the room listening. It was unnerving but her stomach chose just then to let out an audible growl. She crossed to the armchair on the right and sat on the softest cushion she'd ever felt. She decided to go ahead and eat something since no one had told her no. There was a bowl of warm water and a towel to the side of the meal which she made use of to rinse the worst of the dirt off her hands. She lifted the silver cover off the dish in front of her revealing a clear soup in a shallow bowl that smelled deliciously of chicken. She picked up the spoon on the right and swirled it once in the soup, holding her nose over the bowl to enjoy the aroma before she lifted the first spoonful to her lips. It was the perfect temperature, just hot enough to be warming without scalding her tongue. She made quick work of the soup and was shaken when it lifted up, seemingly of its own accord, and floated away into the dark recesses of the room. She gripped the handles of the chair until her knuckles were white as she watched the lid from another dish lift itself off and her plate rise to accept slices of meat. The lid replaced itself and the process was repeated with two other dishes serving what she assumed were vegetables. Her plate settled in front of her once again. She took a few deep breaths to try to calm her heartbeat. She'd almost succeeded when a voice came out of the darkness of the room, startling her into jumping out of the chair.

"There are servants here," the voice said. It was soft, deep, and very masculine. "They are merely silent and invisible. Please sit and continue your meal. Nothing here will harm you."

"Who are you?" Lilly whispered in the direction the voice seemed to be coming from.

"I am the master of this castle," the voice said.

"May I see you?"

"Please, finish your supper first. I'll show you to your room afterward."

Lilly settled into the armchair once again, picked up the knife and fork, and proceeded to eat the most delicious meal she'd ever tasted. Not even before her father had lost his fortune had she had anything this good. There was even wine to accompany the meal though she couldn't have said what kind it was. She didn't linger. Now that her hunger was satisfied, her weariness made itself known. She stood once more to look into the darkness of the room.

"I've finished," she said rather awkwardly. "Will you let me see you now?"

"I must warn you, my appearance is rather...shocking I suppose. I will likely frighten you."

"I'll consider myself prepared."

She heard a sigh and watched as the Beast from her pendant seemed to materialize out of the gloom. As he stepped closer, she looked up into eyes that were a very human shade of blue-green. Her own eyes widened and she almost stumbled back into the chair but managed to remain standing. 

"You were right," she said in a very quiet voice. "Your appearance is rather shocking."

"I'm surprised you don't run screaming out the door."

"You said nothing here would harm me. And it's cold and storming out. Besides," she hesitated to tell a stranger this, "I've nothing to go back for."

"No husband or children?"

"No."

"No family?"

"I do have some family but they've all but turned me out because I'm twenty-eight years old and I've never been married. They have expectations you see. And I don't live up to them."

"Ah. Well in that case perhaps you'd like to make your home here. I've been alone for quite some time and would enjoy companionship." 

She hesitated again. While it was true her family didn't really want her, they were still her family. She stepped away from the armchair and just looked at the Beast. Almost absentmindedly she reached under the collar of her shirt and drew out the pendant on its chain.

"I found this in the woods a few months ago," she said. "Is it yours?"

"I left it on that tree in hopes that someone would be brave enough or even just curious enough to penetrate the forest to find out what it was. It's been there many years with a small enchantment on it to keep it from being blown away by a storm or growing into the tree."

"Would you like it back?"

"It's yours," he said. "Consider it a welcome gift. Come," he added when she swayed slightly with exhaustion. "I'll show you to your room."

He took the votive candle on its marble column and led the way back to the stone staircase. She followed him, leaning heavily on the carved wooden banister. She was so tired and the staircase seemed to go on forever.

"Would you permit me to assist you?" asked the Beast.

"I can manage fine, thanks," she said a little breathlessly.

"As you wish."

They finally got to the top of the stairs. The Beast measured his stride to match Lilly's shorter and slower one. He led her down the door lined corridor to the right, turning left at the end of it and stopping at the first door on the left. He pushed the handle down and the door swung inward. He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. She did, stopping just over the threshold. She looked around at the elegant splendor of the chamber and suddenly felt as dirty and out of place as she must look. 

"The servants have drawn you a bath," said the Beast. "There will be garments in the clothes press in the morning. Please feel free to wear anything that takes your fancy. Also feel free to explore the castle and grounds. This is your home now and I'd like you to be familiar and comfortable with it."

She turned to him and laid her hand very lightly on his forearm. "Thank you," she said, "for inviting me to make a home here. I doubt very much I'll be missed by my sisters." She squeezed his arm for a split second then dropped her hand. His shaggy fur had been so soft. If she'd kept her hand on him just a moment longer she wouldn't have been able to stop herself from running her fingers through it. He seemed nice enough but she didn't think he'd appreciate an almost total stranger stroking his fur. She glanced up at him, seeing his eyes flash briefly with something she couldn't define.

"I'll leave you now," he said. "There is another who shares the castle. He may not be as welcoming as I have been. I will to join you for supper."

"My name is Lilly," she said suddenly, realizing that she hadn't even told him her name.

"You may call me Beast," he said. "I have no other name."

"Good night, Beast," said Lilly.

"Good night Lilly," he said as he retreated into the hallway. She closed the door after him and turned to look at her room. There was an enormous bed on a raised platform centered on the right wall. It was made of wood so dark it appeared black. The curtains were a contrasting ivory color, matching the comforter. There was a window with a deep window seat on the far wall. Moonlight streamed through the many glass panes. To the left was a crackling fire in the fireplace and a tub in front of it big enough for her to sit comfortably in with her legs outstretched.

The lure of a hot bath made Lilly strip off her old shoes, worn socks, patched trousers and skirt, and thin shirt and underclothes. Her corset laced in the front making it easy to remove. Naked now, she stepped into the tub and sank into hot water up to her chin. A small cart rolled closer. She saw that it held all manner of fragranced soaps, oils, and salts. She felt the tie holding her long hair in a messy knot being taken out and a comb running gently through it, dislodging small twigs and the odd leaf. She was embarrassed now. She'd walked through this grand castle and eaten in the elegant dining hall looking like the lowliest of peasants.

The invisible servants combed and washed her hair then combed it more until it dried from the heat of the fire. A sponge and glass bottle of soap floated up off the little cart. The bottle tipped its contents onto the sponge which promptly lathered the soap and floated toward her. She held out a hand to take it but it started rubbing the lather on her arm. She decided to just lie back and accept the attention. A wave of exhaustion almost made her fall asleep right there in the bath. She stood and that seemed to be the signal for a silver pail to float towards her and slowly pour warm, clean water over her head and shoulders to rinse off the soap. She stepped over the side of the tub and stood on a soft mat as a towel wrapped itself around her. She could barely feel a pair of hands under the cloth rubbing her skin dry. 

A nightgown drifted over to her. She raised her arms to accept it, feeling the decadent glide of pure silk slither over her skin as it settled around her hips. She looked down in surprise. The gown was barely long enough to brush the tops of her thighs. The sleeves were nothing more than ribbons that tied at each shoulder. The neckline was so low the entire top half of her breasts was exposed and the back was open to her waist. Two more ribbons crossed in the back to keep the gown from sliding off. It was pale yellow in color with equally pale pink roses scattered over it. The darkness of her nipples was clearly visible through the almost sheer silk. The air was cooler than the bath water, making her nipples peak sharply. She walked over and climbed the two steps to get into the enormous bed. The covers had been turned down and seemed to beckon her. She slid between satin sheets and was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

She dreamed of running through the woods. Branches whipped her arms and tore at her dress. Briars and vines snagged her hair. Roots crossed the faint path she followed, tripping her. She finally fell, both in the dream and in reality. She woke in a heap on the floor, having fallen out of bed and down the steps. The sheet was tangled around her, pillows were scattered on the floor and the counterpane was half off the bed. She had a moment of confusion, not remembering where she was. She blinked as the events of the day before came back to her in a rush. She looked at the window and saw from the light that it was just past dawn. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep any longer so she decided to try to find something to wear.

She managed to untangle herself from the bed sheets. The fire had been banked and the chill in the air caused her nipples to pebble into hard little buds and gooseflesh to skitter across her skin. She walked to the wardrobe, opened the doors and just gaped at the sight that greeted her. Gowns of every color and fabric practically exploded from the confines of the wardrobe as if they had been pushing at the doors from the inside. She stood for a moment and just looked at them. She'd always liked pretty things and these gowns were a feast for her eyes. She didn't know which one to choose so she decided to use the process of elimination.

"Since it's morning, I'll wear a light colored gown," she said aloud, thinking that the invisible servants might be listening. When about half the gowns in the wardrobe were lifted out to hang seemingly in mid air, she knew she'd guessed correctly.

"It's probably rather chilly in the castle and since I plan to look around some I'll need a warm gown. One made of wool perhaps." A little more than half the gowns that had been lifted out floated back into the wardrobe. "I think I'll wear green." All but four gowns floated back into the wardrobe. The ones that were left were varying shades of sea, mint, peridot, and a turquoise green that had a hint of blue. The gowns were all beautiful and similar enough in design that her biggest choice was color. After several minutes of just staring at them, she finally just closed her eyes, spun completely around twice and reached out to touch the nearest one. She opened her eyes to see that she'd chosen the sea green one. Though it had hints of blue like the turquoise one, it also had silver threads woven through it that would gleam and shimmer when she moved. 

One of the drawers at the bottom of the wardrobe opened and a petticoat, chemise, corset, panties, and stockings were invisibly lifted out. The chemise was made of white silk so fine it was almost completely transparent. The corset, panties, and the tops of the stockings were the same sea green as the gown though they didn't have the silver threads. The legs of the stockings were the same sheer white silk as the chemise.

Lilly took off the yellow nightie and held her arms up for the chemise. Like the nightie, it was much shorter than she was used to, barely reaching her hips. It was very snug over her breasts though the lace-edged top only covered a scant inch of the skin above her nipples. The corset came next. When she lifted her breasts to settle them into the corset, she realized that it didn't cover her nipples completely at all. They rubbed in a most delicious way on the top of the corset. She felt the ties in the back tightening and her stomach being pulled in. She was a little surprised when it wasn't tightened as much as possible. She could breathe more easily than her old corset allowed. She moved to hold onto a chair for balance as she lifted her foot so the stocking could roll itself up her leg. She noticed that her breasts swayed and bounced much more easily and freely than in her old corset. The stockings slid up each leg in turn with the sensuous slide of silk. The garters on her corset attached themselves to the stockings as the panties and petticoat floated toward her. She took the panties out of the air and put them on herself. They were snug without being tight and were made of so little of the fine, transparent silk fabric that they were nothing more than a scrap covering her almost non existent nether hair and a thin strip nestling between her ass cheeks. She straightened and the petticoat lowered itself over her head to settle at her waist. It, too was silk, though of a much more dense weave than that of the chemise or stockings. She was glad of that. She was expecting the castle corridors to be cool and would appreciate the extra warmth.

The dress she'd chosen floated to her. She raised her arms and it dropped slowly into place. The wool was softer than any she'd ever felt making her think it must be lambs' wool. It wasn't scratchy at all. As it buttoned itself up the back she noticed how low the scooped neckline was. The lace of her chemise peeped over the top of the gown. If she took a deep breath, her nipples would do the same. She blushed a little but told herself that there were only two other people in the castle and she was unlikely to meet either of them. 

The sleeves, while long and just snug enough to not get in the way during breakfast, were almost completely off her shoulders. A pair of sturdy silver shoes and a white fur cloak emerged from the press, the shoes settling directly in front of her and the cloak draping itself across one of the two chairs in front of the fireplace. As she stepped into the shoes and they laced themselves up, she watched the door to her room open and several silver, covered dishes float in to set themselves down on the table between the two fireplace chairs. Though invisible servants helping her get dressed and the dishes floating in by themselves unnerved her, Lilly was hungry and the delicious aromas rising from the table were irresistible. She walked the few steps to a chair, noticing that the clothes and shoes fit perfectly and her breasts jiggled and bounced slightly. Her nipples were rubbed and teased by the top edge of the corset, making them harden into tight little buds. The panties were so tiny and thin she almost felt she wasn't wearing any at all. Her clit was very large, about the size of a hazelnut, and the silk of her panties brushed against it deliciously. 

She sat and ate a sumptuous meal of the creamiest farina, fluffiest eggs and almost greaseless sausage links she'd ever tasted. When she finished, she spoke to the room in general, knowing that the invisible servants were listening.

"I think that I'll eat breakfast before I get dressed in the mornings," she said. "Even though I'm always careful, I don't want to spill anything on any of those lovely gowns."

She felt odd talking to someone she couldn't see but trusted that they could indeed hear her. She stood as the silver dishes were whisked away through her door once more. She picked up the cloak from the other chair and took just a moment to slide her fingers through the white fur. She'd always loved the feel of fur against her skin and she knew, from taking pelts to town to sell for her brothers, that this was highest quality mink. She swirled it around her shoulders and tied the white silk ribbons at the neck. The lining was also satiny silk but the fur was used as trim all around the inside edges. She pulled the cloak closed and reveled in the feel of the fur on the tops of her breasts.

She left her room and decided to explore the floor her room was on first. She remembered that her room was at the beginning of a long corridor. She looked right and saw a long corridor. She turned left and saw another long corridor. She knew she'd turned left at the end of a corridor and that her room had been the first door on the left. She took a few steps to her right and saw the first corridor she'd walked down the night before. She seemed to remember a balcony around the top of the entrance hall. She thought that if she only made right turns, unless she came upon a dead end, it wouldn't be too difficult to find her way back to her room. All she'd have to do is count the turns and remember how many she'd made.

She set off. This corridor had very few doors lining it. She opened a few to see rooms of furniture draped in white sheets. Not every room had windows but those that did had the curtains tightly closed. When she reached the staircase that rose from the entranceway, she paused. There was indeed a balcony circling the enormous room but the hallway she was walking down continued in front of her and another hallway stretched into darkness to her right. She'd seen that the candles in the sconces on the walls lit themselves as she walked towards them and snuffed themselves out when she'd passed a few yards from them. The corridor to her right looked the most gloomy of her choices and for that reason alone she decided to choose it. She turned and started walking, opening a door now and then to see more rooms with ghostly furniture. Some were bedchambers, others could have been sitting rooms, still others were large enough and had enough sheet-draped furniture they could have been both. 




Beast



She paused when she came to a room that had no furniture. She entered this room, the candles obligingly bursting into flame as she crossed the threshold. She looked around, noticing that this was a room without a window. She realized why when she saw the series of portraits lining the walls. They seemed to be of the same family. The women were all beautiful, the family members having the same blazing red hair. The men's hair was darker, closer to mahogany. The wives and husbands of the family were just as beautiful as their spouses. They all had blue eyes. The family all had the exact same shade of cerulean. The spouses' eyes were varying shades but they were all blue. 

Lilly looked to the left of the door at the portrait there. It was of a husband and wife. Judging from their clothing, she guessed that they were painted in medieval times. She followed the portraits around the room. Sometimes it was of a couple, sometimes a single person, sometimes a family. The men showed the most resemblance to each other, the women not quite as much. Sometimes a single man would be painted with a hound or horse. Some of the single women had a little lap dog with them. The portraits were all very large, close to four feet tall, and there were at least fifty of them hanging on the walls of the room. Lilly went from one to the next, noticing that although the women's fashions changed drastically from the first to the last, the men's changed very little. Perhaps a little less lace and from hose to breeches to trousers but their changes were, overall, much more subtle than the ladies'. 

When she got to the last portrait, Lilly thought there was a slight difference in one of the men's appearances compared to the other men. One was bearded, not unusual as several of the other portraits were of bearded men, and more slightly built than the other. He was stooped, though he appeared young, as if he spent his days bent over a desk. The artist had captured a very dark expression on the thin man's face. Lilly shuddered and turned her gaze to the larger of the two men. This was the one who was a little different. He was obviously a brother to the thin man but he seemed to be taller than any of the other men of this family. His shoulders were more broad and his physique much more muscled. This man looked like he spent his time outdoors perhaps helping the servants to care for the horses. He had the suntanned look of an outdoorsman. As she looked at the portrait of the larger brother she thought she saw something a little off. She looked at some of the portraits preceding this one just to be sure then looked back to the large man. His eyes were not the same shade of blue as all the other men of the bloodline. Theirs were all a pure blue, his were an intriguing shade of blue-green. His bone structure, though slightly larger than the other men's, was the same shape. The portrait directly before the brothers' was of a couple, their parents most likely. Lilly saw that the mother had the family eyes and the father's were very close to the same shade, perhaps slightly darker but not the same as the green-eyed man. 

A wild fantasy began as she stepped back to observe the last two portraits together. The couple looked almost old enough to be the brothers' grandparents. Lilly began to think that they, for some reason, couldn't have children. They'd tried for years and in desperation the wife turned to another man, perhaps a servant, for a child. She's of the bloodline so the child would look enough like pure family to pass. A very short time after she had the other man's baby, she became pregnant with her husband's child. The husband was probably overjoyed at first to have two sons but as the brothers got older, differences between them would likely become more pronounced. The older brother was robust, healthy, loved the outdoors. The younger brother was frail, perhaps sickly, and loved studies. The father probably doted on the healthy one, confident he'd survive all the usual childhood sicknesses. He'd be more aloof with the frail one, perhaps afraid to get too attached; afraid he'd die from one of those childhood sicknesses. This was sure to cause jealousy in the younger brother. He wanted his fair share of his father's attention and affection but when it wasn't forthcoming he set out to see if a rumor he'd heard once was true. A rumor about the timing of his brother's conception and birth. The healthier brother was supposed to have been a month early but he was a very large baby for supposedly being early. This must have been what the younger one was thinking when the artist captured his expression. He must have grown to hate his brother and want him disowned for a bastard. If he managed that he would be the sole heir to the family's estate.

Lilly wondered, as she stood before the portraits, how the thin brother would have tied to get rid of the robust brother. Just by looking at him she could tell that he wouldn't be able to best his brother in physical combat. From the looks of the larger brother, not many men could. If he was the better liked of the two, that would likely rule out ordering a tenant to assassinate him. That left poison or magic. She wondered which he would have used. Some poisons left tell-tale signs and might have made people suspicious of him. Magic, especially killing magic, was as dangerous to the user as to the one it was being used on. However, the thin brother had the look of someone who would stop at absolutely nothing to get what he wanted.

Lilly shivered and turned to leave the portrait room. The older brother's image caught her eye as she turned. He looked almost the complete opposite from his frail sibling. She could tell why he would be the better liked of the two. Laughter seemed to hover at the corners of his mouth as if he couldn't be somber for the portrait sitting. If her thoughts of him joining the tenant farmers in the fields was true, then that could only serve to endear him to the common people especially if he did it from the goodness of his heart and not for any ulterior purpose. She looked at the eyes once more and had the oddest sense she'd seen those eyes before. But that was nonsense because almost everyone she'd ever met had blue or brown eyes. Her sister Violet had eyes the color of violets and her own eyes were blue-green-grey but she could think of no one who had eyes that particularly intriguing shade of blue-green. She decided to ponder that question later. For now, she left the room and continued down the corridor.

She opened more doors and looked into more rooms. Some doors opened onto other corridors, some opened onto staircases leading up, down, or both directions. After several minutes of walking and peering into deserted rooms with sheet covered furniture she finally came to the end of what she was sure was the central corridor. A staircase led up to her left and the corridor continued to her right. She turned right and continued her wanderings. She'd only gone a few yards when she came to another stairway leading up to the next floor. She wasn't ready to turn back so she just shrugged, reveling once again in the slide of the soft mink fur against the tops of her breasts, and climbed the stairs. The flight was a short one and ended in a door. She opened it and was confronted with yet another corridor extending to her left and right. She decided to tie a ribbon around the handle so she'd know which door to use when she retraced her steps. There was a thin green ribbon threaded through the neckline of her gown that tied in front, keeping the scant inch of creamy skin that the dress covered above her nipples from being exposed. She reached underneath the cloak, untied the satiny ribbon, and pulled on the left end of it to free it from the bodice. It slid free easily, allowing the neckline of the dress to fall completely from her shoulders and expose the tops of her large, very dark areolas. She shivered with the naughtiness of having so much of her breasts uncovered. The secret place between her legs started to tingle and her overly large clit began to swell.

She tied the ribbon to the door handle and continued down the right hand corridor. Her skin became hyper sensitive as the fur of the cloak rubbed the upper curves of her breasts. Their increased movement made the fur rub all the more and kept her nipples erect. She continued to open doors, noticing that some of the staircases that led down from some of them could possibly be the same stairways that led up from the corridor she'd followed earlier. The carpet she walked on was a red, gold and brown paisley pattern and so thickly padded that her feet practically sank into the softness. The walls were a plain light gold color with thin stripes of red and brown that echoed the colors of the carpet. She came across several sets of four or five steps going up or down. She thought there might be rooms below with varying ceiling heights. After a few more minutes of walking, windows appeared in the wall to her left and she came to the end of the current hallway. Again she had the choice of stairs to her left, though they went down this time, and another passageway to her right. She turned right and soon came upon a single door. She opened it and had to wait for her eyes to adjust to the gloom inside. Even though candles had leapt into flame at the opening of the door there weren't enough of them to completely light the room which was small by the standards of the castle and oddly shaped. After a moment of staring she realized that the room had five sides. Every wall was covered with bookshelves or cubbyholes. Every bookshelf was crammed with books and every cubbyhole held multiple scrolls. She looked down at the floor and could make out enough of the carpet to realize that it was black with white lines on it connecting the points of the room, forming a pentagram. She stepped into the room and walked over to the heavy desk in the center. Several books were stacked there and one was lying open in front of the chair. Morbid curiosity gripped her as she slowly walked forward. She leaned over to try to see what the book was about but it was in a language she'd never seen. The letters looked strangely twisted, as if the words and sentences they formed were so horrible they tried to get away from themselves. 

She had just decided that this room was not anyplace she wanted to be when a door opposite from the one she'd entered from crashed open and rank smelling steam boiled out of the room it led to. She caught a glimpse of more shelves and cubbyholes but the shelves held all shapes, sizes and colors of glass bottles. The cubbyholes held more scrolls and, from what seemed to be crows feet sticking out of one, animal parts. She didn't catch more than a glimpse though because her attention was riveted to the figure in the doorway. It was the thin brother from the last portrait in the portrait room. She stared at his wild dark hair and icy blue eyes. She remembered that the clothes the brothers had been wearing were 150 years out of fashion. She didn't know what to think except that she wanted out of here. She opened her mouth to excuse herself but didn't get a chance to speak.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my private library!?" the man yelled.

"I'm so sorry," Lilly said in a very contrite tone. "I didn't know this room was private. I'll just leave now. Please excuse me." 

She turned to go but the man seemed to move with uncanny speed. He crossed the room and grabbed her upper arm.

"Not so fast, wench," he snarled. "You're the one who invaded my private rooms. I think you need a lesson on the consequences of sticking your nose where it shouldn't be."

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to twist her arm out of his bony grip. "I didn't know. I promise I won't come here again, just let me go."

He ignored her. His gaze was already drawn to her almost completely exposed breasts. What had been an extremely pleasant sensation, that of having her nipples almost peeking out over her neckline, became extremely humiliating. She tried again to turn away from his lecherous eyes but he just jerked her back. He reached up with his free hand to push aside the one side of her cloak that still covered one breast. That was the final straw for Lilly. While he was distracted, she lashed out with her right leg, her shin bone connecting with the sensitive organ between his thighs. He immediately released her arm to clutch himself. She turned and ran back out the still open door behind her while he yelled obscenities at her retreating form in a rather high-pitched tone of voice.

She fled almost blindly down the hallway, the candles in the wall sconces bursting into flame as she passed. She ran until the corridor seemed to fall away. She barely paused, flinging herself down the stairway, holding her skirts up with one hand and touching the wall for balance with the other. She ran until she came to a dead end. She frantically looked left and right, yanking the door to her right open and running down yet another corridor. This one was rather short, taking a sharp left before another set of stairs led upward. These stairs were twice the length of the other staircases she'd climbed or descended so far. She was gasping for breath by the time she reached the top but still she dared not stop. She ran on, the sameness of the corridors becoming a blur in her mind. This corridor curved slightly to the left. She was several yards down it when she tripped and fell down one of the short sets of steps. She hit the side of her head on the edge of one of the steps and crumpled to the floor at the bottom of them. 

She dreamed again of running through woods. The branches of the trees were so low and dense she had to fight her way through them. Briars left stinging scratches on her arms. Exposed roots threatened to trip her with every step. This time she felt a sense of menace following her but she knew that if she could find the path that led back to the castle she could find safety.

She woke with a start. She thought she could hear someone calling her name so she slowly sat up, fighting the wave of vertigo that threatened to overwhelm her. She was chilled and her muscles were stiff from being in that awkward position for what seemed like hours. Using the wall for support she stood. The voice seemed to be coming from in front of her but the hallway's curve prevented her from seeing any light from the candles. She took a few tentative steps forward. When the voice called again she knew that it was Beast and not that monster she'd met earlier.

"I'm here," she tried to call out when she heard her name again. Her voice was weak and thin, probably from the cold. She shivered and drew the sides of her cloak together over her breasts. 

"I'm here," she said again, her voice stronger this time. She stopped to lean against the wall when she saw the glow of candlelight approaching from around the curve of the corridor. Faint at first, it grew stronger until the approaching light merged with the lit candles surrounding her. Beast came into sight, looking worried then relieved when he saw her.

"When you didn't come down for supper I went up to your room to look for you," he said. "I tried calling you but when you didn't answer I set out looking. The candles led me to the fourth floor and down this hallway. If you'd gone just to the end of it you'd have been on one of the balconies above the entrance hall."

"I didn't know," she said. "And I was running and I had a horrible stitch in my side and I fell and hit my head."

"Why were you running?" he asked.

"I was running from that...that horrible man in that room with all those books in that strange language."

"So you've met Simon. I can't say I'm surprised that you'd run from him. He's delved so far into dark magic that it's twisted him physically."

"I saw him in a portrait first. Him and another man. But how could it be the same person? That portrait must have been painted 150 years ago."

"It is the same man. As I said, he's been involved in the blackest of magic trying to find immortality. I'm not sure if he's found it but he has prolonged his life."

"The other man in the portrait; what happened to him? I had the thought that maybe he was an um...illegitimate brother because his eyes were a different color. Maybe he was better liked by the parents and the people but his brother hated him and wanted him dead."

"You'd be right. After years of no children the lady took a servant to her bed while the lord was away. The lad was barely a year old when she conceived her husband's child. The servant who fathered the eldest boy was hearty peasant stock. The lord who was the younger boy's father was frail and often in ill health. There were whispers about the firstborn son being so robustly healthy when he was supposedly born a month early. There were even more whispers as the boys grew up and the differences became more pronounced. Simon heard them and started asking questions. He figured out that his brother was a bastard and tried to disown him. He was unsuccessful, however. The title came from their mother and since the oldest son was, indeed, of the bloodline, there was nothing Simon could do legally. He turned to black magic...are you alright?"

"I'm just a little woozy. I must have hit my head harder than I thought."

"Would you allow me to carry you to your room?"

"I think I'd better. The floor is spinning and it's making walking difficult."

Beast lifted Lilly easily into his arms. He carried her as if she weighed no more than a mere kitten. She draped her right arm across his shoulders and curled into him. Her left hand rested on the fur showing at the open throat of his tunic. She couldn't resist running her fingers through it, luxuriating in the softness. She dropped her head to his shoulder and glanced at his face. It was much more human looking than she'd first thought. His cheekbones weren't as prominent as they'd seemed at first. His nose was rather flat and catlike but his mouth, despite the elongated canines, was full-lipped and kissable. She blushed as that thought crossed her mind and turned her attention back to the patch of shaggy fur she was stroking. She continued running her fingers through it as Beast walked on silent paws down the corridor and out onto one of the balconies above the entrance hall. She saw him swallow hard and looked again into his face. He was looking determinedly ahead so she glanced down to see what could have caused him distress. She blushed again when she saw that the bodice of her dress had slipped down and almost half of her nipples were showing above her corset and chemise. She stopped fondling Beast's fur and reached down to tug her bodice up. She was only partially successful. The corset had shifted downward slightly and had taken the gown's bodice with it. The very edge of her areola still showed above the neckline. She kept hold of the gown as they made their way around the balcony and down the main stairs to the second floor. He carried her down the long corridor, turning left at the end, and stopped in front of her bedroom door.

"Dusk has fallen only an hour ago," he said as he set her on her feet, sounding like his throat was slightly constricted. "If you'd like to join me in my reading room for a light supper, I'd enjoy your company. Of course, I'll understand if you don't feel well enough tonight."

"I don't think I should try the stairs myself yet," she told him, still standing in the circle of his arms. She couldn't resist running her hands up his forearms to feel the incredible softness of his shaggy fur. "But if you'll give me half an hour to change my gown and repair my hair, I wouldn't mind if you joined me here for supper. Perhaps you could continue the story you started earlier; tell me where you fit into it."




Beast



He glanced down at her breasts and back up into her eyes. With one hand he reached up and brushed a lock of hair back from where it lay against her cheek and curled on her shoulder. She tilted her head ever so slightly towards his hand as she waited for his answer.

"Despite my appearance, I have the heart and soul of a man. I also have a man's desires. I'll not press you for anything but you should know that the desire is there. Seeing you dressed in such a revealing gown, carrying you and feeling the softness of your skin, even the sensation when you run your hands through my fur has made those desires flare to life. Knowing this, do you still wish me to dine with you here, in your room?"

"Yes," she said after only a moments hesitation. "You've had every advantage over me since I arrived at your home and much more in the past few minutes. I was completely vulnerable and at your mercy but you acted with honor and took care of me. I trust you." 

He threaded his fingers through her hair and smiled. 

"I'll return in half an hour," he said. "I would very much like to dine in your company."

She retreated into her room and slowly closed the door. She walked to the clothes press and paused as its doors opened. She felt the buttons running down the back of her dress sliding out of their holes. The dress fell to the floor, followed by the petticoat, and she stepped out of them. She pushed her panties down her legs, unfastened the garters holding her stockings up and rolled the stockings down her legs. The laces on her corset had loosened themselves as she did this so when she stood, she pulled it off over her head. She pulled the chemise off next and stood naked in front of the wardrobe, her mind scrambling to decide what to wear. It was either that or start remembering the crazed Simon and that he would have raped her if he could have.

As she stood there, she felt several combs disentangling her hair. 

"I'll wear purple satin tonight," she told the invisible servants. Three gowns floated out of the wardrobe. The gown she chose was very deep violet, almost indigo. It had a lace pattern on its bodice that glinted gold in the light. The lace was so fine it looked to be stitched with a single thread. The sleeves would only reach just above her elbows. There were small fabric covered buttons up the front of the dress. It floated toward her as panties, a garter belt and stockings floated up from a drawer. The garter belt and panties were the same dark purple satin as the gown. The stockings were silk, the tops matching the color of the gown, panties, and garter belt; the legs were black. She was surprised when the garter belt fastened itself around her waist. She'd been expecting a chemise and corset. She took the stockings and smoothed them up her legs herself but allowed them to fasten themselves to the garters. The panties were another tiny triangle barely covering her wisp of nether hair. These seemed to be even smaller than the ones she wore this morning, the strip nestling between her cheeks was nothing more than a satin string and the lower point of the silken triangle buried itself between her lower lips and rubbed her large, engorged clit. She shivered with the feeling of decadence that came from wearing such clothes.

She was still bare above her waist when the gown floated towards her; she'd still been expecting a chemise and corset. When it dropped over her head, she slid her arms into the sleeves and shivered again from the feel of the satin against her skin. As the buttons fastened themselves up the front she realized that a corset was very cleverly sewn into the bodice. This one was looser than the one she'd worn that morning, only serving to flatten her belly some and raise her breasts. This gown's bodice was even more daringly cut than the green one. The green gown had covered her nipples by a scant inch. This one allowed her dusky areola to peer teasingly over the top. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tug the bodice up...or down. She decided to leave it as it was. The sleeves started at the points of her shoulders, loosely covering her upper arms and ending just above her elbows.

She had barely finished dressing when she heard a light knock on her door. 

"Come in," she called.

The door opened to admit several covered platters that floated to the table in front of the fire. The Beast followed them and paused when he saw Lilly. 

"You look beautiful," he said.

She smiled shyly and ducked her head. He came to her and took her hand in his large, furry one. He bowed slightly, raising her knuckles to his lips. Her breath caught as he very gently touched his lips to her skin.

"Shall we dine?" he asked when he straightened. She blushed harder, allowing him to keep her hand is his and lead her to the table. They sat in the armchairs by the fire. Dinner was a rather simple meal. There was a creamy soup, the main course with meat and side dishes, and a small, rich chocolate cake big enough for them to share. When they'd finished and the platters had been invisibly taken away, Beast reached for Lilly's hand.

"I'll finish telling you about Simon now if you still want to know the story," he said. 

"Yes I would," she told him. "I've never liked to leave tales only half-told."

He took a breath and started to speak. "I'd just told you that Simon had turned to dark magic to rid himself of his brother. He found a spell book that told how to tap into the power of the earth. The power itself is completely neutral, it's the users who are either good or evil. What I hadn't told you yet is that I'm the older brother in the portrait.

"Simon only cared about either getting rid of me or making the common folk turn against me. He wanted to be the favored son, the heir. Through his studies of black magic he came across a spell that would make everyone turn from me in horror and fear. He didn't read beyond what the spell would do to me; he didn't realize that it would have an effect on him too."

"You're the older brother?" Lilly asked, stunned. "I knew I'd seen those eyes before, I just couldn't remember where."

"My present appearance is the result of Simon's spell. He turned me into a beast that no one could stand to look at. My mother fainted the first time she saw me. My father almost did. Most of the servants quit at their first glimpse of me, some others tried to stay on but the strain of seeing me as a beast after I had been such a good looking man got to be too much for them. Of course Simon never thought of that part of it. He was accustomed to being served and waited on. He found another spell to force servants to stay and work in the castle but didn't expect them to be invisible. He finally started thinking that the spell he put on me might have other effects as well. It did.

"He read that the one casting the spell and the one it was cast upon would be forever linked. If one died, so did the other. The reverse was also true, if one lived, the other did also. I would be a beast forever, there was no way to change that. He would remain a man but he never got his wish; he would never become the favored son. Father died within a year of my becoming a beast, Mother followed three months later. The servants were all invisible and the villagers never came to the castle. Simon became bitter and searched for a way to break the link between us. He wanted to kill me without dying himself. I suspect that's what he's been doing up in those rooms of his. There is a way to break the link, leaving one of us alive and immortal and the other vulnerable to anything that normally kills a human. I'll tell you about it one day, but not tonight. I'm not sure you're ready to hear it."

"As long as you promise to tell me soon," said Lilly. "I don't mind a mystery but I don't want to be in the dark about it for very long."

"I will tell you. I'm not sure when, but I promise I will. I'll leave you to your rest now."

"May I see you tomorrow? If Simon stays in his rooms all the time then he won't bother us."

"I'd like your company but I must warn you that my appearance is worse by the light of day."

"You should have noticed by now that your appearance doesn't bother me." She stood and he followed suit. She knew he'd been stealing glances at her breasts all during dinner. She approached him, not stopping until their bodies were so close a deep breath would make them touch. 

"I'm not afraid of you," she said. "You've given me no reason to be." 

She reached up, placing her hands on his upper arms and sliding them up to his broad shoulders. She shifted slightly closer, touching the erect tips of her nipples to his chest. He stiffened slightly in surprise, his eyes widening at her actions. He could feel how hard her nipples were through the linen of his tunic. She stroked her hands down the lapels of his dinner jacket, pushing it apart. She ran her hands back up his chest and felt him place slightly trembling hands on her waist. She raised on tiptoe, twining her arms around his neck and drawing his head down. She closed her eyes and brushed her lips very lightly across his. She pressed against him a little more firmly, brushing her lips against his again. He groaned and pulled her body against his, aligning her curves to fit against his hard muscles. He slanted his mouth over hers, teasing the slight opening between her lips with his tongue. When she opened farther, he swept his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her. She mimicked him as best she could, learning fast how to avoid his overly long and very sharp canines. Their tongues tangled, each tasting the other. Her hips arched against him seemingly of their own accord. The pleasant ache that had settled between her legs this morning returned. He reached down, his left hand settling over the curve of her ass and pulling her even closer. His right hand slowly moved up her side, his thumb skimming the underside of her left breast. She shuddered, involuntarily encouraging him to squeeze her ass and fully palm her breast, brushing his thumb back and forth across her nipple. The hard tip of her breast emerged completely over the top of her gown.

Beast tightened his hold on her and tore his mouth away from hers. He gently pushed her a step away and drew in a shuddering breath. Her eyes fluttered open; she didn't remember closing them. She raised a trembling hand to her lips.

"I'm not afraid of you," she told him again. "Why did you stop?"

"I didn't want to," he said. "I would very much like to continue this another time. But I don't want it to be about you proving that you don't fear me."

"I'm sorry," Lilly said. "I didn't think I meant it like that but maybe I did. I was so afraid of Simon and wanted to prove to myself that you would never do what he tried to do."

"Did he hurt you?" said Beast, suddenly sounding fierce and more threatening than he ever had. 

"No, he didn't," Lilly reassured him. "I stopped him before he could do anything."

"What did he try to do?"

"I think he tried to rape me," Lilly said in a quiet voice. "He tried to push his hand inside my dress but I kicked him and ran away before he could."

"If we weren't magically linked I'd kill him for scaring you. But since he usually keeps to his rooms I'd like to escort you when you explore the castle."

"I'd very much like to have your company. But could you take me outside tomorrow?"

"Of course," he said with a smile. "Anything you wish. But for now I'll leave you to sleep. I'll come for you as soon as you're dressed in the morning. Good night Lilly."

"Good night Beast."

Lilly closed the door on his retreating form and turned to lean against it. Her breasts felt heavy and the ache between her legs had intensified to a throb. Her clit was so engorged it pushed against the satin of her panties. She pushed away from the door and crossed the room to her bed. She stood at the foot of the steps as the invisible servants unbuttoned the violet gown. When it dropped to the floor and the garters had unhooked themselves from her stockings, she took over her own undressing. She pushed her panties down, only then noticing the damp patch in the center. She blushed slightly at the memory of how they'd gotten so wet. She removed the garter belt and rolled down the black stockings as a short nightie floated towards her. This one was just as short as the yellow one she'd worn the night before; just as low in the front and back and just as sheer. It was a very pale pink, almost cream in color, with a single large rose, just slightly darker pink, splashed across the center. 

As she climbed into bed she realized she hadn't put on any panties. She blushed again, she'd never gone without panties. Her skin was still extremely sensitive and the glide of the satin sheets across her body made the wetness between her legs start to trickle down her thigh. She lay down and squeezed her legs together, trying to ease the throb between them. Her nipples, already hard, tightened farther into almost painful points. She tossed and turned for hours, trying to find some kind of relief from her too-sensitive skin, aching breasts, and the throbbing heat between her thighs. 

When she finally went to sleep, it only seemed like seconds had passed before a stray shaft of sunlight found its way through a slight gap in the curtains to tease her eyes open. The comforter and sheets were tangled around her legs. She kicked them free, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and slowly slid out of bed and down the steps. Her breakfast was already waiting for her on the little table by the fire. A short, white satin robe floated to her. She slid her arms through the sleeves and wrapped the edges around her. She sat at the table and enjoyed another exquisite breakfast.

When she finished, she went to the wardrobe. She barely blinked when the doors opened themselves. Using the same process of elimination she chose a rather simple looking gown. The bodice looked fitted through the stomach but a little loose across the breasts. The skirt fell straight down and was made of a light, floaty fabric. It's color was the pale, washed out blue of the sky in a water color painting.

She took off the short robe and nightie as a garter belt, stockings, panties and shoes were invisibly lifted from the drawers and bottom of the wardrobe. The stockings were white with blue tops that matched the dress but were so sheer she almost felt she wasn't wearing anything at all. The pale blue panties were the same style as the ones she'd worn the previous morning, almost nothing, though not as skimpy as the ones she'd worn last night. There was no corset, she guessed that the gown had one built in. 

The dress floated towards her, dropping over her head and settling into place around her body. As she looked down at herself, she realized that the simple cut of the gown was deceptive. The material shimmered slightly, drawing attention to how it clung to her curves. There was a corset built in but it was only a stomacher. There was barely enough shelf to give her breasts a slight lift. Her legs were outlined clearly, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. The neckline, while very low, was still about an inch above her nipples. The fluttery sleeves rested on the points of her shoulders. She shrugged. It was pretty and comfortable. 

The shoes were just barely darker than the dress and had hardened leather soles, good for walking. She had just slipped into them after the invisible servants had fastened the buttons up the back of her dress when there was a knock on her door. As she walked across the floor to open it she realized that the buttons stopped at the top of the built in corset. There was nothing but a ribbon, tied in the back, to keep the clingy fabric of the dress from falling from over her breasts. Her breasts themselves, not having any restraint, bounced and jiggled very freely. Her nipples rubbed the material, causing them to pebble instantly.

Beast was waiting for her when she opened the door. She saw the heat in his eyes as he raked them over her voluptuous form.

"You look very lovely today," he told her. "Would you like to see the gardens?"

"Yes I would. Do you have many?"

"Dozens. Some are kitchen gardens but many are flower gardens or merely for viewing pleasure."

Lilly suppressed a shudder at the way his voice seemed to caress the word 'pleasure.' Her breasts started to tingle and dampness began to pool between her thighs. She followed him out of the castle, her breasts jiggling as she walked and bouncing when she walked down the stairs. She was a little relieved he walked ahead of her; the bouncing and her rock hard nipples were a little embarrassing. She was also almost sure she could smell the musky scent of the moisture between her legs. 

The morning passed in a pleasant blur; pleasant because of Beast's company and conversation, a blur because all she remembered of the gardens were splashes of color and scent. They walked through several gardens, separated by stone walls of either shoulder or waist height, before finally stopping to sit on a stone bench with bright yellow cushions.

"I told the servants this morning to bring us a light meal at noon," said Beast. "We can continue our walk afterward, or just sit here and enjoy the sunshine."

"I'd like to stay here a while. All of your gardens are so beautiful they're a little overwhelming. I think I need some time to recover."

"Anything you wish. And here's our lunch."

Lilly looked in the direction he was and saw about a dozen silver covered dishes, a basket the right size to hold cutlery, serving utensils, plates and glasses, and a folded, red and white checked blanket. The blanket arrived first, unfolding itself and spreading over the grass with a flourish. The basket set itself down and just as she'd thought, plates, glasses, and silverware lifted themselves out of it. The covered dishes were invisibly set down, and the serving utensils settled beside them.

"Dinner is served, milady," said Beast with a smile. He sat down on the ground beside a dinner place setting that looked as if it belonged in the dining room, not outside on a blanket. Lilly joined him, sitting beside the other place setting. Their meal consisted of a variety of cold meats, sliced cheeses, fruits and breads. There was a light wine that tasted faintly of honey. Beast's gaze lingered on Lilly's body, so clearly outlined by the clinging material of her gown. Lilly snuck glances at Beast, seeing the heat in his eyes when he looked at her. Her own gaze was drawn to a growing bulge under the snug black trousers he wore. They talked some while they ate and when they finished, the dishes floated back to the castle. 

Lilly reclined on her right side against some of the cushions, allowing her left breast to almost completely fall out of the neckline of her gown. Beast stretched out beside her, leaning on his left arm. He reached out with his forefinger and slid it down the top of Lilly's dress, pushing it down and completely exposing the dark pointed nipple. Lilly arched her back, inviting him to do more than barely brush her breast with his finger. He took the invitation, palming her flesh and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned and reached up with her right hand to push the neckline of her dress off her other breast and pinch the nipple herself. 

"Turn over on your other side," Beast told her. 

She complied and felt him drape his arm across her waist. She rolled and pinched one nipple while Beast did the same with the other. She felt his lips on the back of her neck, causing shivers to race through her. She leaned back and his mouth descended on hers. Their tongues tangled, making even more wetness gather between her legs. Beast slowly stroked his hand down her stomach. Lilly shifted her legs restlessly. The throbbing ache between them intensified. Beast touched his fingers to the top of her mound, still easing them downward. She moaned into his mouth, raising her hips. Beast fully cupped her mound, the tip of his middle finger pressing against her opening. Lilly reached down, grasped the skirt of her gown and pulled it up. Beast reached under it, sliding his palm up her inner thigh until he touched the silk of her panties. Her overly large clit pushed the fabric visibly outward. She arched her back, raising her hips farther, begging for something she didn't quite understand. 




Beast



Beast trailed his hot mouth from her lips, down the skin of her neck and chest, and fastened on her nipple. Lilly moaned and grabbed hold of his mane, spearing her fingers through his silky fur. His thumb flicked once over her clit. At the same time he suckled hard on one nipple, pinched the other, and inserted his middle finger almost to the second knuckle into her dripping wetness. The intense pleasure that had been building between her thighs exploded through her entire body. She screamed. For a few moments she thought she might faint. 

When she finally caught her breath she opened eyes she hadn't known she'd closed to see Beast watching her. When she finally focused on him, he smiled.

"I trust you enjoyed yourself?" he asked.

"Yes," she managed to say. "I don't think I can move yet."

"Would you permit me to take you back to your room?"

"Yes," she said again.

He chuckled softly and picked her up into his arms.

"Um...what about you?"

"Me?" he asked.

"You can't have gotten as much pleasure as I did. Should I have done something for you?"

"No, my dear. I don't want to introduce you to everything all at once. It could be a little overwhelming."

"Overwhelming?"

"Don't worry about it now. We'll get to it later."

She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. She felt a delicious lassitude but even so was eager to experience more. When they got to the door of her room she was almost asleep. He set her on her feet and held her as she collected herself enough to stand. Her arms were still around his shoulders. She slid her hands up to pull his mouth to hers for a kiss. Their tongues tangled as she pressed her body against his, feeling a hard bulge against her belly. She reached down with her right hand and rubbed it against the front of his trousers. She felt a small spot of dampness form on the bulge as it throbbed and he groaned into her mouth. Once again he tore his mouth from hers and put a little space between them.

"We should wait," he said. "There are still things I haven't told you that you should know before we go any farther."

"Tell me now," she said.

"Tonight after supper. I'll need a little time to calm down some so supper may be delayed. No more than half an hour, though. I won't make you wait any longer."

"You'll tell me everything then?"

"Yes."

"Then I think I need a little time to recover from that...what was that?"

"You had an orgasm."

"Wow."

"I'll leave you now," he said with a smug smile. "I'll see you in a few hours."

He left then, closing the door behind him. Lilly felt the buttons on the back of her dress being unbuttoned and the ribbon untied. It slid to the floor and was whisked away when she stepped out of it. Her shoes' laces were untied so she stepped out of those too. She barely felt the garter and stockings being taken off. She pushed her panties down herself. The wet spot was much bigger this time. She giggled quietly as she stumbled up the steps and fell into bed for a much needed nap. 

When she woke up, the sun had set and the only light came from candles. As she sat up, more candles lit themselves. She blushed when she realized she was naked. She threw back covers she didn't remember pulling over herself and got out of bed. 

"I need to dress for dinner," she said aloud. 

When she finished the process of elimination this time, she ended up choosing pants instead of a dress. They were silver silk and made in a simple pull on style with a tie to hold them up. When she put them on, however, they were so tight the tie was merely decoration. The waist was so low it showed the top of her ass cheeks and slid halfway down her ass when she sat or bent over. Since she chose pants, no garters or stockings were invisibly taken out of the wardrobe's drawers but to her surprise, no panties were either. She blushed again when she pulled the pants on without any panties but felt her nipples harden and her sex tingle. 

The tunic that floated out of the wardrobe was also silver silk but was so sheer it was translucent. The sleeves were loose and came to her elbows. There were only two buttons on the tunic at the bottom, leaving the top open down to her navel. There was no corset so her breasts were free to sway, jiggle and bounce with her every step. Her dark nipples were very visible through the thin silk, made even more so when they peaked from arousal.

She stepped into the heeled silver sandals and went out into the corridor. She turned right onto the second hallway and was halfway to the central stairs when she felt a bony hand grip her arm and spin her around to face Simon. He clamped his other hand over her mouth before she could scream and pressed his body against hers so she couldn't kick his balls again.

"So that beast thinks he can fuck you before I do," he said with a sneer. "He thinks he can break the curse and get rid of me. He could have had you already but he decided to give you more time before he told you the rest of the curse's conditions and fucked you. He wanted you to care about him. Now he's too late. He thinks I'm holed up in my lab. He has no idea I'm about to fuck you right here against the wall. I'll be the one to break the curse and get rid of him. Then all the land and all the money and even immortality will be mine. 

Lilly twisted in his grip, trying to break free and run or at least scream so Beast might hear her. Simon pawed at her breasts then slid his hand down to try to push her pants off her hips. She was glad they were so tight. His hand wouldn't fit between the fabric and her flesh. She was shocked for a minute but recovered quickly. She stomped the pointed heel of her right sandal onto the instep of his left foot. He took his right hand off her mouth and drew it back to slap her. She screamed. He stopped and glanced around nervously. Lilly slammed her right fist into his throat. He clutched at it, gasping for breath, and stumbled backward. 

"You'll pay for that, you bitch," he rasped.

"No she won't," said Beast from a few feet away at the top of the stairs. Lilly ran to him and flung her arms around him. He put a protective arm around her shoulders and just glared at Simon. Simon scrambled to his feet and ran down the corridor.

"Did he hurt you?" Beast asked when Simon was out of sight.

"No, he just scared me," said Lilly. She turned to him. "He wanted to rape me. He said something about...fucking me...before you could and breaking the curse to get rid of you and keep all the land and money and immortality for himself. Is that the rest of what you told me last night? Is that how to sever the tie between you and break the curse?"

"Yes," said Beast as he turned Lilly to start down the stairs. "I was going to tell you soon but Simon's taken care of that for me. I don't want you to feel obligated though. From your reaction in the garden this afternoon I think you desire me..." Lilly blushed. "...and I definitely desire you. I would like things to take their natural course but I don't want to rush you."

They had reached the dining hall and Lilly turned to face Beast. "I think we should have supper first," she said.

"Of course," said Beast.

They ate a leisurely meal together, sitting in a pair of comfortable armchairs that faced each other across a small table in front of the fire. Beast openly stared at Lilly's very visible nipples. Lilly's gaze was drawn again and again to the growing bulge in Beast's snug trousers. The trousers themselves were the same silver of Lilly's own. When she saw the first drop of moisture darken the front of his trousers, she felt her own wetness start to trickle from between her thighs and dampen the crotch of her pants. Her clit swelled and the crotch seam of her pants rubbed it maddeningly. 

Beast shifted in his seat, drawing her gaze once again to the bulge between his legs. In the light from the fire and the candelabra she could see his cock clearly outlined against the silk of his pants. As she watched, it jumped and the bead of dampness at the tip spread to almost cover the entire head. 

She finished the last bite of the sliced, sugared strawberries they'd eaten for dessert, took a drink of wine and stood.

"I think I'll go up to my room. If you'd like, you can come up and join me for a nightcap in about fifteen minutes." She stepped around the table, exposing her barely covered breasts and pebbled nipples. Juice was trickling so fast from between her legs it was almost a stream. The crotch of her silk pants was dark with the juice that soaked it. She went to him, straddling one of his powerfully muscled thighs as she leaned in to kiss him. They kissed with total abandon using lips, tongue, even teeth to explore each other. Lilly was just careful to avoid Beast's long, sharp canines. She reached down and brushed the tips of her fingers up the length of his cock. He inhaled a shaky breath as she pulled slowly away. She took his hand, turned it palm up, and pressed it to the wetness soaking the crotch of her pants.

"I'd really like for you to come up to my room," she said.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," he said.

Lilly walked out of the room swaying her hips provocatively. But when she walked out the door, she stumbled down the seven steps leading into the park outside and barely kept herself from falling. She looked back in confusion and saw Simon standing in the doorway. He looked completely crazed as the wind whipped his hair and clothes around his body.

"Tonight is All Hallow's Eve," he said, "the night I'm at my most powerful. Run from me if you can but know I'll catch you in the end. I can smell your musk from a mile away and when you can't run any longer I'll find you and throw you down to fuck you on the ground like an animal. That Beast won't have you. I'll be the one to break the tie and then I'll take great pleasure in killing you both."

Lilly turned and fled as he cackled maniacally behind her. She raced across the lawn and into the forest, which seemed much closer than it should have been. She pushed her way through the briars and brambles at the forest's edge, feeling them catch and pull on her flimsy blouse. As she ran farther and farther into the woods, the wind, which had been strong enough to make her fight for her footing just outside the castle, became blocked by the huge tree trunks. It was still wild but not quite tempest strength. Dry pine needles and the occasional oak leaf scurried across the ground in front of her. Light from a full moon shone through the bare branches of the oak trees but there weren't many of them; the forest was mainly pine and fir.

Her shoes weren't made for running madly through the woods. She kept stumbling over the uneven ground and soon had to just take them off. She didn't dare stop running; she could hear Simon's crazed laughter behind her and it wasn't getting any farther away as she ran. The ground was cold on her bare feet but she kept running. She ran until she had a stitch in her side and her breath came in gasps and pants. When she thought she couldn't run another step, she tripped over a tree root and tumbled down a shallow embankment. She lay there, almost stunned, until Simon caught up to her and appeared at the top of the slope.

"You're mine now bitch," he said. "That beast back there doesn't stand a chance of finding you before I've fucked you and broken the tie. If you please me, I may think about letting you live but if you defy me I'll make your death slow and painful."

Lilly was still too winded to make a sound. Simon stalked down the slope, grabbed her arm, and yanked her onto her back. He flung himself on top of her before she could get leverage to knee him between his legs. He held both her wrists with one long fingered, bony hand and was just reaching for the waist of her pants to rip them off when he was hauled up and flung into a nearby tree. Beast stood there with so much rage in his eyes they'd turned emerald green with no trace of blue and glowed. His canines and claws seemed to be even longer and sharper than usual.

Simon lay unconscious on the ground but he wasn't dead. The tie wasn't broken so Beast couldn't kill him. Beast knelt beside Lilly and gathered her up into his arms. He carried her back to the castle in a much shorter time than she'd been running from Simon.

"How did you know to look for me?" asked Lilly as Beast carried her up the front steps. 

"I heard Simon laughing," said Beast. "I would have been there sooner but he'd masked your trail. I found it when he became too lust crazed to concentrate on hiding it. I was already close to where you were or I may not have gotten there in time." He tightened his hold on her and buried his face in her hair. "I couldn't stand to lose you. If he'd killed you, I would have killed him, even though it would have killed me as well."

"But you did get there before he did anything," said Lilly. "And I'd like to make sure nothing like that can ever happen again."

Beast had carried her up the stairs and to her room. He'd just climbed the steps to her bed and laid her down when she said that. He looked at her, her hair was loose but only slightly tangled from her ordeal, her filmy blouse was torn in places, and her tight pants still had a wet spot between her thighs.

"Simon was just a temporary interruption," she said. "I want to continue what we started earlier." She reached up and stroked her hand through the fur showing through the vest he wore without a shirt. He turned and braced his hands on the bed on either side of her. She took advantage of his position to run her hands over every inch of his chest and stomach, reveling in the softness of his fur and the contrasting firmness of the underlying muscles. He leaned down for a kiss and she arched her back to rub her breasts against his fur. When he pulled away, her eyes were shadowed with desire and her dark nipples had peaked painfully against the gauzy silk of her top. Beast used a single claw to slice the garment down the center and pushed it aside so he could feast his eyes on her naked breasts. His mouth soon followed. Lilly arched her back and moaned as she speared both hands into his long hair. He licked and suckled each nipple in turn, sending shivers of electric pleasure through Lilly's entire body, centered on the hot wetness between her thighs.

She moved her legs to wrap around him as he trailed open mouthed kisses down her belly, untied the drawstring of her pants with his teeth, and used his sharp canines to bite them apart. He raised up to pull them the rest of the way off and make quick work of removing his own clothes. Lilly stared and felt a frisson of nerves. His body was shaped like a man's but he was larger than any man she'd ever seen. Her eyes skimmed over his broad shoulders and lean hips but were riveted by the sight of his cock. She'd never seen one but felt sure that most normal men didn't have cocks that big. It was easily seven inches long, as thick as her wrist, and had a pronounced upward curve. 

"Are you sure you'll fit?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," he said as he lowered himself to kiss her again. The feel of the soft fur that covered his body against her naked skin was incredibly arousing. She ran her hands over every part of him she could reach and slid her smooth legs over the rest of his body. His face and cock were the only parts of him that weren't furred. He licked a path down her neck, lightly grazing her skin with his canines. Her breasts nearly filled his large hands when he mounded them to lave her nipples again. His tongue was rougher than her own, but not so rough as a cat's, and the feel of it on her nipples sent her pleasure spiraling upward. She felt the head of his cock against her nether lips. He raised up to look into her eyes. She spread her thighs farther apart and felt the head of his cock enter her. Her eyes widened at the feel of being stretched. He retreated and thrust again, a little farther this time, until he met a slight resistance. 

"This may hurt a little at first," he said, "but afterwards will be only pleasure."

"I'm not afraid," she said. "Please, Beast. I need you."

He withdrew slightly and kissed her, hard. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and his cock into the sopping wet entrance to her body. She felt a little pinch and a lot of pressure and then he was inside her, filling and stretching her tight channel. She moaned into his mouth and lifted her hips to take him even deeper. He groaned in response and raised up to look at her again.

"It doesn't hurt, Beast," she panted. "I need...more. Please!"

In answer, he withdrew and thrust again, starting a slow rhythm designed to drive them both wild. Lilly writhed underneath him, tossing her head as the pressure and pleasure built between her legs. His cock rubbed her large clit with every thrust, causing small explosions deep inside her. He thrust faster, lowering his head to capture the nipple of a bouncing breast in his mouth and suck hard. He took its mate between his fingers and pinched roughly. Lilly's sheath convulsed and clamped onto his cock. She threw her head back and screamed her orgasm. Beast lost control at the feel of her softness clamping like a vice onto his cock. He pounded a few thrusts into her before shuddering to a stop and roaring out his pleasure. 

It seemed to take several minutes for the aftershocks to pass. Beast withdrew from her, followed by a flood of their mingled juices. He grabbed Lilly's ruined pants and used them to wipe up the mess. He was glad to see only a faint blush of pink from the breaching of her hymen. 

"Are you ok?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?"

"I'm just a little sore," she said slowly. "I think it's because you're cock is so thick and it was my first time."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have been more gentle."

"It's fine, Beast. It's exactly what I wanted and I wouldn't change a second."

He finished wiping up their mess and stretched out beside her on the bed. He reached down to pull the turned-down covers up over them. Lilly draped an arm and leg over him, moving them slightly to feel his fur.

"The tie between Simon and me is broken now," said Beast. "There will be animals in the woods that can sniff out and destroy anything evil. They'll probably eat him before morning. You're immortal now too, you know."

"I am?"

"Yes. I think that instead of the tie being completely broken, it only broke between Simon and me. It's transferred to you now. I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?"

"Lilly," He turned onto his side to face her. He raised a hand to cup her face as he looked into her eyes. "I love you. I know it's too soon but I've loved you since I saw you sitting in my chair with leaves stuck in your hair. But I don't want you to feel obligated to me for breaking Simon's curse. If you want to leave to go back to your family, find a husband, and fill your house with children I won't try to stop you."

Lilly just looked at him for a second. When her eyes became overly bright she flung herself into his arms and tried to wrap her entire body around him.

"Oh Beast, I love you and I never want to leave you. I told you that first night that I'd rather stay here than go back to my family."

They started kissing. Their lovemaking was slow and easy this time and when they finished, they lay in the tangle of sheets and just held each other.

"I just have one question," said Lilly. "What happens now?"

"All the servants will become visible and tangible again," said Beast. "The descendants of my former tenants will know Simon is gone and some of them may choose to come to live in their ancestral homes. If they do, we'll need to take up the role of landlord. The road through the forest will be open for everyone to use but will no longer lead travelers directly to the castle. Only if they need shelter from a storm will it bring them here. If we do have visitors, I'd like for you to see that they're fed and have a place to sleep. I'm afraid my appearance would frighten them away. Any people that come to live here will know what to expect but I don't want a stranger to die of fright at the sight of me."




Beast



"Hey, 'Nessa, sweet tits, why dontcha come on over here and suck my dick for me?" 

I ignored him and kept walking toward the driveway. "Fuck off, Denny, you perv." It had gotten to be a regular thing, the way he talked to me, and I kept thinking maybe I should tell my dad about it. Denny owed Dad big time for letting him move into the garage apartment - what used to be the "chauffeur's quarters," back in the days when the house's owners would have had a live-in driver - after his latest woman kicked his ass to the curb a couple of months ago, and I didn't think Dad would be thrilled about his old buddy Den talking to his darling daughter like that.

He only did it when no one else was around to hear it, though, and to be honest even if I did complain I wasn't all that sure that Dad wouldn't just tell me to ignore him, and not actually do or say anything to make Denny stop. Kind of sad that he wouldn't take his daughter's side, but he and Denny went way back.

He'd been my dad's foreman since I was a kid, and the two of them were thick as thieves. I figured Dad kept Denny around mostly to remind him of the good old days, before Dad got respectable, when they'd worked construction together while Dad was building the company. I supposed Denny must have been good at his job, since the business was doing so well, and Dad seemed to trust him, but he definitely didn't fit in with the crowd Dad ran with now.

I, on the other hand, had been raised to be part of Dad's new image. Private schools and tennis instruction, starting back before we could even really afford either; deportment lessons (which basically means learning what fork to eat with, and to keep your knees together when you sit down so nobody gets an up-skirt shot), and of course making friends at his precious country club. Dad had gotten a hair transplant and dental veneers, and a new wife with fake boobs and a year-round tan. He seemed happy enough with his move up the social ladder, but I'd found him camped out with Denny by the pool over beers enough evenings to know there was still a good bit of the hardhat left in the executive. 

If it made him happy to keep in touch with his roots, I didn't want to do anything to ruin that for him. So I put up with Denny's bullshit and hoped he wasn't going to become a permanent fixture around the place.

There was not one single refined or suave thing about Denny Cavanaugh. He was 6'2" of hard, lean muscle, with a tiny bit of thickening around his waist, a head full of shaggy black hair just starting to gray a little at the temples, and icy blue eyes that seemed to burn through my clothes like a laser. He was crude and rude and an all-around obnoxious jackass, and most of the time I really hated his guts. 

The fact that I also regularly fantasized about him fucking me senseless probably meant I had some major mental health issues. 

The idea should have grossed me out - the man was something like fifteen years older than me, and he wasn't even close to being my type. Even if I hadn't been with my boyfriend Henry for almost two years, there were plenty of other young guys around that I would have gone out with, guys who were good-looking, and liked a lot of the same things I did, said the right things and treated me decently, whose parents probably had as much money as mine or more... The "right" kind of guy. Everything Denny wasn't. 

Maybe it was just because he was completely inappropriate, but when I went to bed and reached for my vibrator, it wasn't clean-cut guys like Henry that invaded my brain and got me wet - it was Denny the beast. 

Denny, covered in sweat and grime at the end of a work day and looking like some kind of feral animal, bending me over the nearest table, ripping my panties off and shoving his cock into me.

Denny, with his hands easily twice the size of mine, and those long thick fingers like bratwurst. I don't know what it is about hands that gets me so hot, but the thought of his big meaty digits thrusting and twisting between my legs made me flood my panties every time. 

In my fantasies Denny rutted into me from behind, mauling my tits and spewing some filth in my ear, or he fucked me up against a wall with my legs wrapped around his waist and his jeans in a heap around his ankles. In every image I was helpless, struggling and impaled on his huge cock as he pumped me... I came so loudly sometimes it surprised me that my stepmother Lorna hadn't been startled straight out of her three G&T haze and come running to make sure I wasn't being murdered. 

Tonight I didn't have time to indulge either my own horny hallucinations or Denny's lewd commentary. I was already going to be late to dinner at the club, and I'd have to be extra sweet and cooperative to make up for the lapse. 

Daddy was hosting some business associates for dinner, something about the big riverfront development that was in the works, and I had promised to make an appearance and be polite. I called Henry as soon as I knew about it and made sure he'd be there, so I could at least have an out once I'd done my daughterly duty and made nice with the bigwigs. 

The whole country club scene was a huge bore most of the time, but since I graduated Dartmouth in June Dad had been insisting that I make an appearance at least once a week "for networking." In other words, sucking up to important people who might give me a job. I was more into enjoying myself for the summer, after sixteen years of school. 

Dad took it personally when I acted my age instead of like a forty-something corporate drone; he had firm ideas about proper behavior and if I didn't conform he thought it reflected badly on him. These little confabs at the club were all designed to help score him some big contract or otherwise advance his quest to be King of the Builders, and he always wanted to show me off like evidence that he was high-class enough to roll with the big boys. Look, here's my daughter with her Ivy League education, I'm a self-made man but I value the same things you do. It made me feel a little like a sideshow freak, but I knew it was important to him, so I played along. 

The outfit I picked needed to be a compromise between the business dinner and the Friday night fun that would follow - classy, yet tight enough to show off the goods when I got to dancing later. For that matter, I'd seen the way some of Dad's business associates looked at me, and if this crew was the same maybe a little sexiness would improve the negotiations. 

I settled on an off-white Lycra sheath, cut straight across the top and low enough to show off plenty of cleavage, with wide shoulder straps to hold it up and built-in cups so I didn't have to bother with a bra, not that my perky girls really needed one. The dress stopped about halfway down my thighs, molded so tightly to my body I couldn't have fit a sheet of paper between the fabric and my skin. My underwear options were reduced to a thong, pale pink and lacy. From the look I got in the mirror, it looked like I wasn't wearing anything underneath it. Probably because, really - I wasn't.

My curly red hair was up off my neck, in deference to the heat and humidity, and I'd loosely caught it in a clip that let it cascade down the back of my head in ringlets while still leaving my nape exposed. I opted for just a small pair of gold hoop earrings and the slender gold wristwatch my mom had given me for college graduation, and on my feet a little pair of white strappy sandals with gold buckles and 4" heels that made me stick out my boobs and ass just to keep my balance. 

The winter-white dress clung to my curves and set off my peachy-pale skin and freckles, giving me that pure-yet-a-little-slutty vibe. It was perfect. Sashay in and wow the execs, then I'd be off to dance the night away with Henry and Dash and Jess and Whitney and whoever else fell into our gravitational field. 

I reached for my phone as the company driver opened the car door for me - a text to Dad would keep him from freaking out, thinking I'd blown him off - and it wasn't in my clutch. Damn it, I thought, thinking back to the last time I'd used it. 

"I'll be back in just a minute," I told the driver - not that he was going anywhere without me. It wasn't quite the same as having a chauffeur in residence, but I won't lie and tell you it isn't pretty sweet to have a guy whose whole job it is to drive you around and get you where you're going. Screw designated drivers, give me one of these any time. 

As I rounded the corner of the house I ran smack into a hard, warm body, and it almost knocked the wind out of me. His hands grabbed me around the hips to balance us both, and I smelled sweat and cigarettes and beer: Denny. 

"Well, hello there, sweet thing. You comin' back 'cause you forgot to kiss Denny goodbye?" 

I struggled against his restraining hands. "Let go, Den. I swear to Christ, if you get my dress dirty..."

He chuckled and let his hands wander down to my ass, pulling me up against his groin, letting me feel his thickness jabbing into my hip. "Take it easy, princess, I washed up and changed when I got home." His hands roamed lower, squeezing one cheek and stroking the back of my thigh, and I shivered and felt my nipples pop hard. "I was going to say 'don't get your panties in a wad,' but I don't think you're wearin' any."

I pushed myself away from him with both hands, my palms sticking lightly to the damp skin of his pecs. Denny released his hold, but he braced his hands against the sides of the walkway, blocking my path and eyeballing me like I was a tasty piece of candy. My breath got a little short as I looked at his bare chest and thought about sucking and biting at his nipples. God, I so did not have time for this.

"Move, dickhead. I'm supposed to meet Dad and Lorna at the club, and you know he won't like it if he hears you made me late."

"Well, fuck me for living, princess. I was just tryin' to be nice." He stepped to the side, just far enough that I could slide by him, making sure I had to drag my ass over the front of his jeans to get past. "Mm, mm, mm. Pity you're in such an all-fired hurry to go, Vanessa. You're lookin' good enough to eat." He smacked his lips and waggled his tongue, just in case I wasn't already totally clear on his meaning, and every muscle in my body clenched at the mental image of him snaking that long tongue into me. I tried to tell myself that he disgusted me, but the wetness between my thighs told a different story.

"Get yourself some new material, Den. Your play's getting old." I ran up the back stairs to retrieve my phone and went out the side door to be sure I avoided him on the way out.

"You're home early."

It wasn't like I was sneaking in, but I wasn't expecting to run into anyone else out there, and Denny's voice in the dark about made me jump out of my skin.

He was sitting on the stairs up to his apartment, just barely visible at the edge of the patio lights. Once I figured out where he was I moved to where I could see him, so I wouldn't be standing there talking to thin air. I mostly kept back in the shadows, though. Dancing and other, more private activities had left me sweated up and my hair-do looking pretty ragged, and I could do without any of his suggestive comments.

"So, party break up early, or what?" It bugged me that he asked, because I really didn't want to talk about it, and besides, what was it to him? I swear, the man had radar for what would piss me off the fastest and went right for my tender spots every time.

"Party's still going on. You know how those things are." Except he didn't, because Denny and country clubs might have existed in different universes, as likely as he was to ever be invited to one. I knew that he probably didn't give a shit about being excluded – I'd heard him ridiculing the tennis-and-golf crowd often enough – but I couldn't pass up an opportunity to needle him, as lame an effort as it might be. "The whole thing sucked, honestly. Henry got drunk and I didn't feel like babysitting him again tonight, so I dumped him on his brother and left." I didn't know why I was telling him. It wasn't like he was going to give me any sympathy.

"Ah, young Henry," Denny scoffed. My boyfriend was one of Denny's favorite targets. He talked shit about him all the time around me, how pretty he was (well, he is) and how nicely he dressed, basically implying that Henry might not be all that into girls. To be honest, considering how rarely I managed to get Henry to fuck me, maybe he wasn't wrong, but I'd sooner have my head shaved on the courthouse steps at high noon on the Fourth of July than ever admit Denny was right about anything. "Let me guess," he sneered. "You sucked his cock for him, he maybe fingered you a little but he didn't get you off. Such a nice young man. You sure know how to pick 'em, sweetheart." 

"You're a pig, Denny." The pisser was that he was mostly right. Again. Henry had started doing shots well before I'd even gotten there, and by the time dinner was over and people started dancing, he'd been so shitfaced I couldn't even keep him hard, and forget him being able to find my clit. I'd been so fucking horny by the time I'd gotten away from Denny earlier, all I wanted was to find Henry and get him to ball me up against the wall of the groundskeeper's office, but his drunk inept fumbling didn't do shit for me. Goddamn Denny and his ESP. It was his fucking fault I was so turned on in the first place.

"I may be a pig, but I know what to do with a fine piece of ass like you, and it ain't sendin' 'em home frustrated, with a wet pussy and no one to take care of it for you." He leered at me and dropped his hand to his crotch, wrapping his fingers around himself through the denim and yanking like he was starting a mower. My eyes followed the motion of his hand, and I saw the dimensions of what he was holding. Jesus fucking Christ. I'd seen his bulge before and knew he was pretty big, but the way he cradled it in his hand, with the fabric pulled tight around it, left absolutely no doubt in my mind. 

Denny gave a big, dirty laugh, and I tore my eyes away from the crotch of his Levis. He was looking at my face, gauging my reaction. "Bet your pretty-boy Henry doesn't have anything like this in his pants," he said. "If he did, you wouldn't look like you just came in from the desert and I'm an oasis. God, girl, your tongue's practically hanging out. You want Denny to show you his big cock?"

I did. Fuck me blind, but I did. He was sitting there in just his jeans, his hard chest tan and ripped, those muscles down both sides of his abs leading relentlessly to his groin, and so help me god I wanted to see everything. I wanted to walk right up to him and undo his fly and suck him down like a popsicle.

He stood, almost posing, his legs spread wide and his hips shot forward, with the monster in his pants pushing his fly out like a tent pole. I felt a trickle run from my puss, and the expectant electric thrum between my legs that made it hard to think of any reason why I shouldn't just go up there and let him fuck me like I needed.

I really did try. And I couldn't come up with a thing.

I picked up my shoes and walked carefully up to the landing where he was waiting. I stopped two steps below, with his crotch just at the level of my mouth, and I reached a hand out and cupped his balls through the fabric. Denny laughed and pumped his hips toward my fingers.

"You like them goose eggs? Bet you'd like to suck on 'em, wouldn't you." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me the rest of the way up beside him, pushing me back against the railing with his thigh hard against my mound. He grabbed my chin and tipped my head back to see my dilated pupils, a mocking grin on his face as he ground his crotch into me. "Yeah, look at you, all ripe. You need to be fucked good and hard, princess." 

He took the hem of my dress in both hands and shoved it up over my hips, hooking my thong down to my knees, and stuck a fat finger between my pussy lips. I heard his breath hiss as he felt how slick I was, and he shoved that finger forward and straight into my cunt, making me moan at the intrusion. He leaned hard into me, his breath coming loud in my ear as he slid a second finger in next to the first and started to fuck them in and out of me. They stretched me out more than Henry ever had. 

"Oh, yeah, Denny's gonna fuck that tight pussy of yours, 'Nessa," he whispered harshly. "Stick my big dick all the way in you. You feel me? You're all juicy, just waitin' for me. Gonna stick my tongue right up your box and eat you. Make you come on my tongue. You want Denny's cock, don't you. Say you want it. Hot little bitch." He was babbling, his voice coarse and full of lust, and every filthy word made me grind hard against his hand, fucking his fingers deeper into me, his thumb flicking over my clit. "Say it!" He pulled his fingers out, leaving me bent backward and panting for him to fill me up again. 

"Say it or you can just go fuck your vibrator again." My head came up and I stared at him. He had to be guessing about that. There was no way he could know for sure... unless he'd gone in my bedroom and dug through my drawers. 

Before I could even get the words out to ask him what he was talking about, he'd grabbed my arm and was starting to push me down the stairs ahead of him. "Denny don't need your stuck-up cooze. If you can't ask nice, you don't get anything more of Denny."

If I had to go back to my room like this and be stuck with only my silicone best buddy I was going to cry. What I wanted was Denny's hot, hard cock, and his fingers on my clit. I didn't care anymore, I'd do whatever I had to to get them. 

"Stop, Denny. I'll be nice to you. What do you want me to do?"

"Say what you want. Tell Denny how much you want his cock."

Oh, I did, and it wasn't any effort to tell him so. "This cock, Denny?" I pulled my arm free and unbuttoned his fly, reaching through to pull him out. It was even bigger than it had felt through the fabric, long and thick as my wrist. It hung out of his jeans like a crank, so heavy in its engorged state it couldn't bear its own weight. I fought the urge to fall on my knees right there and worship it with my hands and mouth. 

"This cock, oh, fuck, oh Jesus. I'm so wet, and I need you to fuck me with it." I ran my hand up its length, stroking the underside of the head with my thumb and marveling at the size of the thing, hot and pulsing under my fingers. Denny groaned and thrust against my hand, and my cunt fluttered all by itself, open and wanting. "Those boys I've been with before, they don't know what to do with a woman, but you do. I know you do. I want you to lick my pussy, warm me up good, get me ready for your cock." My hand kept moving, pumping him in time with my words. "Stick that monster inside me, ride me hard. Make me come. Use me. Fuck my mouth, fuck my pussy. Do whatever you want. I'm yours." 

His eyes were on fire. He spun me around and pushed me up the stairs ahead of him, the hem of my dress riding up around my waist where he'd put it. I stepped out of my thong and left it lying on the landing. 

I went slow, letting my hips sway back and forth, keeping my ass pushed back so at every step Denny could see my wet pussy right in front of his nose. I paused in front of his door and let him reach around me to let us in, and I humped my ass back against his hard dick. His arm came up around my waist and pulled me back into his groin, while his other hand dove between my legs and worked my clit. 

"Uuhhnngghh, you're gonna make me..." The pleasure poured over me and I came on his fingers, right out there in the open air, where anyone could have seen us. 

Denny raised his hand and stuck his fingers in his mouth, panting heavily through flared nostrils as he sucked my juices off his hand. "Sweet pussy," he breathed. "Need to taste you. Get on in there, girl, and get on the couch."




Beast



I stumbled through the door and looked around. I hadn't been in there since he'd moved in, and it was disorienting to see all the furniture where there'd been only an empty space before. Where was the couch?

"Stop," Denny said, his voice rough and gravelled. He moved up against me and stripped the straps of my dress down off my shoulders, trapping my arms against my sides and rolling the bodice down to expose my tits. His hands came around and scooped them up, and I moaned as he pinched both nipples, rolling and squeezing them between his fingers. He rubbed his hard cock over my bare ass and pushed me forward so it slid between my legs and against my pussy. I squeezed my thighs together around him, feeling the head bump up against my clit.

He put his hands on my hips again and spun me around to face him. He pulled at the top of my dress, making a noise of disgust as it clung to my body. "Take this fucking thing off," he snarled, yanking at the fabric. 

"Just wait a second, you'll tear it," I said, and reached under my arm to unzip the side. I pulled the straps off my arms and let the dress fall to the floor, stepping back and kicking it away so I stood before him, completely nude. 

His cock jumped at the sight of me, and he growled and dove in, sucking my nipples hard and unforgivingly, until they were both glistening and red under the onslaught of his mouth. My legs felt like noodles, and the only thing keeping me upright was Denny's hot hands under my ass. He brought one hand around and shoved it between my legs, diddling my clit while he licked and sucked at my tits, and I was soaring toward another orgasm in under a minute.

He abruptly pulled away and pushed me toward the couch. "Get over there and spread your legs for Denny." I practically collapsed onto the worn leather cushions and leaned back, pulling my feet up and opening myself, wide and wanton. I was dripping, all for him, hanging on the ragged edge and ready to come the moment he touched me again. 

Denny stripped out of his jeans in seconds, and the image of his thickly muscled body and the oozing red head of his cock had me gasping. He shaves his pubes and balls, I thought. Fuck, that's hot. 

He fell to his knees in front of me, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me right to the edge of the couch. "Split that pussy. Show Denny your clit." My hands were shaking as I spread my lips for him, exposing my sopping pink cunt. If I touched myself now I would come. 

He grasped my ass cheeks and pulled my pussy up to his mouth, sinking his long, hot tongue inside me, his nose jammed against my clit, and I came as he licked me, wailing and humping against his face. He sucked my juices, bathing my slit with long strokes and fucking my hole with his tongue. He ran it up to my clit and tickled it for a few seconds before he sucked the hard bead between his lips and shook his head, worrying at it until I exploded again, drenching his chin. 

He jammed two fingers into my slippery hole and worked them in and out as he licked me, the squelching sounds almost as arousing as the feeling of his thick fingers stretching me open. "Fuck, I'm gonna..." and I came again, screaming.

Before I could come down he pulled me off the couch and down onto his hard cock, and I felt another orgasm rocket through me as he stretched me wide and the root of him hit my clit. "Jesus, Denny, condom!" I screeched. 

"Fuck that, baby. Denny wraps it up with those bar bitches," he grunted, "but a nice fresh piece like you gets it bareback." He dug his fingers into my ass cheeks, dragging me up and down the length of his cock like I was a doll. I was like a piece of putty in his grip, too spent from coming to do much more than let him manhandle me however he liked.

He reached down and wrapped my ankles around his waist before he picked me up and stood, never letting his cock slip out of me. He stopped in the bedroom doorway to kick it open and fuck me against the door jamb for a few strokes, then carried me inside and dropped me on the rumpled bed. I didn't even want to think about how long it had been since he had changed the sheets. 

"Get on your hands and knees, Vanessa," he ordered. When I didn't move fast enough to suit him he grabbed me and flipped me over, hauling me up onto my knees and plunging his cock back into me. All I could do was bury my face into the pillow with my ass high in the air as he thrust into me, fucking me hard and fast. 

"Tell Denny how much you love his cock," he groaned. I could only moan as his balls slapped against my clit. "You love it, don't you, you little slut." He reached around and stuck a finger in my mouth. "Suck it, 'Ness. Get it all gooey." I sucked avidly at his finger, covering it with my spit. I knew what he was going to do, and the thought made my pussy clench around him. "Aw, yeah, do that again. Squeeze Denny's cock with your cunt." 

I flexed my muscles around him again just as he ringed my anus with his finger and pushed the tip inside. The feeling of him wiggling it against that sensitive opening set me off again, and as I came for the god-knows-how-many-th time, Denny's hands clamped down hard around my hips and I felt him jerk hard against me, shooting his come deep inside me. 

He groaned, his hips stuttering against my ass, his strokes slowing as he pumped into me. Finally he pulled out and fell on the bed behind me, and I felt the last few spurts coat the backs of my legs. I rolled onto my side and curled up into a ball, my pussy still twitching from my last orgasm. 

Denny reached over and slapped my ass. "Goddamn, you're a good fuck, 'Nessa. Woulda fucked you a long time ago, if I'd known you was such a hot piece of pussy."

I just lay there, breathing, thinking about what a fucked-up situation this was going to be. How was I supposed to deal with this raging stud practically under my own roof? There was no way I was going to be able to forget the incredible fucking I'd just gotten, and what if he expected this to become a regular thing? How would I hide it from my father? Did I even want more? (Hell, yes, I wanted more. I wanted more even now, when I was so fucked out I wasn't sure I was going to be able to walk down the stairs.) I sighed and sat up, trying to remember where my clothes were and eyeballing Denny's wilting cock. Even soft it was impressive enough to make me warm all over.

"I can't fucking believe you came inside me like that, Den," I said. 

"What, like you're not on the pill already or something?" he mumbled, already more than half-asleep. 

"That's not the point. You didn't know that for sure, and you could have knocked me up."

Denny's slow breathing told me he was out for the count, and thank god for that, because I just wanted to retrieve my dress and find out where the hell my thong and shoes had gotten to, and get back to the house for some much-needed sleep. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to figure things out.

First thing, though, would be to call Henry and tell him to find a new girlfriend. 

Or maybe I'd introduce him to a nice boy. I suspected he might be happier that way, anyway.



Beast



"I desire, therefore I exist."

-Angela Carter, "The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman."

***

It was agreed: Leona would stay with the Beast for 12 days, at the end of which she would decide whether or not to marry him.

Rupin and Leona's father brokered the deal at the Christmas banquet Rupin held for the entire town, at his castle in the countryside. Rupin seemed quite taken with her father, asking him all sorts of questions about his trading with the Indies and even inviting them to stay overnight after all the other guests had gone. Only later did Leona learn it was not her father who so fascinated Rupin, but herself.

The agreement was only that she would stay with him and then hear his marriage proposal. She was under no obligation to say yes, or do anything else except keep Rupin company. "Time enough for us to get to know one another," he told her, kissing her hand like the perfect gentleman. That had been the second day of Christmas, after the banquet, and those were the first words he ever spoke directly to her. She'd hated him ever since, and it was then she nicknamed him "Beast."

Apparently he'd had virtually every eligible woman in the countryside as his "guest" at one time or another, but he remained a bachelor. Judging from the quantity of gifts he plied her father with he must be nearing the point of desperation for a wife. "You could do much worse for a husband," her father reminded her as he climbed into the carriage (without her) that morning. He'd fixed a single winter rose from Rupin's garden in his buttonhole. "And all you have to do is stay here for the holidays, which is hardly what you'd call an ordeal."

Leona admitted: Rupin was charming. He was also handsome, and scholarly, well-spoken, well-dressed and well-groomed, with a pleasant voice and a habit of always saying just the right thing. His conversations were enlightening, and he made it clear that he prized her opinions. And he was fantastically rich and from a prestigious family. There was even an air of mystique about him, with his unidentifiable dark complexion and accent, and the oddly superstitious way that the townsfolk (particularly the women) treated him. She, a merchant's daughter of no particular lineage and no particular beauty, who had lived in the township for only three months, could never have dreamed of attracting such a suitor. 

Nevertheless, she hated him.

Generally they saw little of each other, which was a relief. He attended to "business" most of the day, though what that consisted of in the darkened rooms of the drafty old castle she had no idea. She took most meals by herself and was content to prowl the grounds or spend hours in the library. Only at dinner and the hours immediately after did she have to tolerate Rupin's presence. Though she vowed never to say a word to him, he always somehow wheedled her into an engaging conversation. He was witty and incisive and sometimes close to brilliant, which of course was incredibly annoying. She was consistently rude and unpleasant in return, but he never seemed bothered. He was mild and amiable company at all times, never becoming angry no matter how hard she tried. 

After dinner they would retire to the library. Rupin had an abominable fondness for fairy tales and he would usually read a selection to her. He seemed fluent in virtually every language known, and translated exotic volumes with ease. That evening, the fourth day of Christmas, he was in the midst of "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," a particularly atrocious article, in Leona's eyes. She waited until the part when the Green Knight challenged Gawain to a contest, even though Gawain knew the knight was immortal and could never be killed. "And did he accept?" Leona broke in. Rupin's eyes flicked up from the book.

"Yes," he said.

Leona snorted. "Idiot. It would have been smarter of him not to show."

"But it would have been a mark against his honor." Rupin sat in an overstuffed chair, legs crossed, one slippered foot dangling. Leona, who could never bear sitting still in Rupin's presence, paced the room, occasionally stabbing the fire with a poker. There was a lion skin rug in front of the hearth and she took particular joy in trampling it.

"I'll take a live man over an honorable corpse any day," she said. "This Green Knight doesn't seem like the honorable type, anyway. He laid out the challenge knowing he couldn't be hurt, but didn't think to warn anyone about that; that's dishonorable. But at the end of the day it's the dishonorable man who walks away."

"Perhaps," Rupin said. "But, if you'll hear the rest of the tale—"

"I will not," said Leona. "I've already taken what lesson from it I care to. I say, let my husband, whoever he may be, be a dishonorable man. I don't care if he lies and cheats and whores every night of the week if the alternative is him lying in a ditch with his head cut off because he daren't impugn his honor to stop it." 

She thought she detected a rare mark of dismay on Rupin's face, just for a fleeting second. This pleased her. 

"Now my lord, I'm afraid your story has given me a terrible headache. I must retire."

"Of course. Nothing is more important than your wellbeing." Rupin the book aside. "However, if at any point tonight you find your strength returning, do consider going for a walk with me in the garden." 

This was the offer he made every night after the conclusion of the evening's tale. The first time Leona was startled; they were in the midst of a never-ending snowstorm and Rupin meant to go out walking in it, in the middle of the night? She hadn't the first idea what he intended if she ever agreed, but naturally she never had, so it remained a mystery. 

He kissed her hand again. "Until tomorrow night. You remain, as always, the highlight of my day," he said, and left.

"Beast," Leona said to the closed door. 

She watched from the windows. This spot afforded a good view of the garden where Rupin took his otherworldly constitutional. Snow piled high outside. It had snowed every night since she came here. Frost tinted the petals of the roses in the garden. Yes, the roses blossomed even in the winter, and never wilted in the cold, and were fresh and red all the year around. Rupin's roses were quite famous for that, though he claimed he did not understand their special qualities at all and that they'd always grown here, long before he'd come to live in the castle. There were many strange things about the castle, such as that Rupin seemed to have no servants or staff but the rooms were always clean and tidy and food appeared for supper every night without fail. Again, Rupin credited this to the castle's nature and claimed no understanding of how it all worked. She was not sure if she believed him.

Now she watched him as he wandered back and forth through the maze formed by the rose hedges, until eventually he vanished. She was taken by a sudden urge to throw on her coat, run down, and follow him, if only to find out what it was he did out there all the time. But that would be surrender, in her eyes. Instead she went to bed. She didn't bother snuffing the lamps in the library or dousing the fire. It would take care of itself, like it always did. Rather than count sheep, she counted the way she'd be revenged on her father when this confinement was over. Each little torment made her smile. With that smirk of satisfaction on her face she drifted off to sleep...

And woke with a start. The room had become hotter than hell. She threw off the covers and ran to the window, throwing it open, heedless of the snow blowing in. She stripped off her night clothes and gasped as the icy air stung her naked, sweat-drenched flesh. It should have helped, but it didn't. The heat was not a principle of the room but something inside of her. She pushed her knees together, feeling self-conscious despite being alone. Her skin was so sensitive that the touch of a single snowflake landing on the erect point of her nipple made her quiver. Even the feeling of air rushing past her lips as she breathed made her want to writhe in excitement. Her hands crept down her body, gliding over the curve of her thighs and up to—

She saw something. Across the way, in a tower room she believed was Rupin's, a light shone on the balcony. Was something moving out there? Yes: The balcony door was open and a shape was silhouetted against it. It was not a human shape. She leaned out, unmindful of her nudity. The hot feeling was fading and the extremity of the weather touched her directly now, but she didn't want to close the window or move away. What was going on? Rupin's window (if it was Rupin's window) opened fully and the thing, whatever it was, climbed out. It was some kind of animal, as big as a horse but lithe and graceful. Its movements reminded her of a housecat. It paced the length of the balcony on all fours, its tail twitching behind it, perhaps waiting for something. And then, in one bound, it leapt the balcony railing and was gone. 

Leona was so shocked she almost screamed, and she ran out onto her own balcony and looked down. She expected to see the broken body of the thing lying there, but instead the creature appeared to have landed on its feet. Visible only in the dim light reflected off the snow, it took off as quick as you please, running for the garden and vanishing behind the rose hedges. Leona waited for several minutes more, but it did not reappear. After a while, the light went off in Rupin's window.

Leona fastened the doors. Her feet ached from exposure to the snow. Somehow, a blaze had kindled in her fireplace. Wrapping herself in a robe, she sat and pondered the flames. What had that half-glimpsed creature been? Did Rupin have some kind of exotic pet? Was he planning an absurd holiday surprise for her, the enormous feline part of some circus show? No: One look had been enough for her to know that it was no tame animal. She recognized what it was doing when it paced: sniffing the air. It was a hunter. It was out after something right now. 

And what, she wondered, was its prey? 

***

The days of Christmas went by, and life went on. Rupin's treatment of her became even more lavish, the food at dinner even more decadent, and the gifts he gave all the more extravagant. Her dislike for him throbbed like an infection. She felt she might have left the castle altogether in spite of the terms of the agreement (Rupin was so callow she doubted he would seek reprisal against her father even if she welched), but the few times she gave serious consideration to it the mystery of the strange animal incited her to disregard the idea. Her thoughts turned to that shape in the snow more and more often of late. She wanted to know what it was. Every night now she awoke at midnight, her skin on fire and her mind racing with indecent thoughts. She was sure the two things were connected.

Naturally her first idea was to ask Rupin, but something made her stop. The animal, whatever it was, must be some secret of his, and it seemed to Leona that she could antagonize him more by finding it out on her own. Though she'd seen it only once more, two nights after the first sighting, again leaving via the balcony window across the way, she was certain that it stalked the grounds every night, and now that she knew what to look for she found signs of its coming and going every morning. Though its tracks rarely lasted long in the constant snowfall there were still always a few distinct prints in the morning (alarmingly, always near some entrance to the castle). It was, as she suspected, a hunting cat of some kind, though one large enough to leave paw prints the size of saucers. Once, excusing herself for a morning walk, she ranged as far afield as she dared and discovered signs of its hunting: blood frozen in the snow.

That the creature was dangerous she was certain. That its inexplicable but undeniable habitation in the castle put her in danger was certain as well. But she wasn't afraid. In fact, she enjoyed the idea. And she enjoyed the sure knowledge that Rupin did not suspect she knew anything about it. Indeed, she once or twice became almost pleasant with him, which he seemed to take as encouragement, though in reality she was only enjoying a private sense of superiority about having ferreted out some part of whatever it was he wanted to keep from her. 

On the eighth day, Leona found an appointment card in the tray by her door. They sometimes appeared there, when Rupin was planning something special. She groaned; the Beast was calling. The card asked her to meet him at six o'clock, an hour earlier than usual, in a room in the east wing. She had explored the castle extensively her first days here and knew the chamber in question to be only an empty study almost completely free of furnishing. Rupin must have done something with it. A waste of time in the making. 

When the hour approached she made certain to arrive inconveniently early (she had observed that this annoyed him more than being late, and so the extra few minutes in his presence were worth it) and was about to knock when she corrected herself. No reason to start being polite now. So she simply barged in, and when she did she stopped, wide-eyed, and then, careful not to make any noise, crept back out. She flushed and looked at the blank face of the closed door, uncertain. Had she really seen what she thought she'd seen? She bent down to peer through the keyhole.

The room, formerly empty, was now covered with oil paintings of singular and exquisite quality, but that was not what shocked her. Rather, it was Rupin: He was in the center of the room, with one hand on a table for support, and his other hand was...Leona squinted. There could be no doubt about it: Rupin was masturbating, fondling his long prick up and down.

Even through the heavy door she could hear the concerted effort of his grunting. He almost sounded as if he was in pain. What in the world was he doing here, in front of the paintings no less? And why? Surely he did not do this every time he planned to meet with her? The thought simultaneously sickened and amused her. She bit her lip to keep from giggling.

She looked at his prick. She couldn't help it. The engorged head appeared shiny in the lamplight. Surrounded as it was by the blue velvet lining of his breeches and the gold-fringed hem of his coat, it put her in mind of a naval officer standing at attention. Still, there was something crassly appealing about the sight of him bent like a jackknife over himself, face knit with effort. She saw how taut the sinews of his arms were as he held himself up and how firmly he planted his slippers on the carpet. The scene seemed so uncharacteristic of him that she wondered if she was perhaps dreaming. 

She realized that she had long regarded Rupin as if he were some sort of eunuch, and perhaps even literally thought it was so. The concept of Rupin and sex always seemed as far apart as any two things could be. It wasn't that he wasn't attractive, in a shallow way, but more that he was the sort of man who would be afraid to make love to you for fear that it might somehow offend you. But now Leona wondered, what kind of man was Rupin in bed, and how often does he take someone there? He employed no maids or kitchen girls to have his way with, but he had courted every woman in the township. Was that the reason he never married? Was he a secret Casanova, smuggling his would-be betrotheds off for long nights of furtive but passionate fucking in quiet corners of the castle and then growing bored of them? Or was this lonely, earnest masturbation his only outlet? 

She wondered what would happen if she opened the door right now. Assuming Rupin didn't die of shame on the spot, how would he react? What if she were to go take his cock in her hands? What if she got on her knees and licked him up and down it, savoring the taste before popping him into her mouth? She assumed he would be utterly ashamed and melt into self-loathing, which was a pleasing thought. Then again, maybe he'd surprise her even more by throwing her down and having his way with her right there on the floor. That idea made her queasy, but might be just interesting enough to be worth it...

But she stayed where she was. She wanted to see him finish. Minutes passed though, and it became apparent that if she did not interrupt then he would just keep going on and on. So, straightening herself and hoping she was rid of her telltale blush, she knocked as firmly as she could. She imagined Rupin jumping up, and trying to cover himself in a panicked rush. She knocked a second time, then entered. He looked for all the world like his normal self. When he kissed her hand she noticed he was not wearing gloves, meaning that the bare hand that a second ago had been fondling his penis was now caressing her fingers. 

"My dear lady," he said. "How are you?"

She did not make her usual rude reply. Tonight called for a different approach. "I'm exquisite, thank you so much for asking." And she gave him her most dazzling smile. Rupin let only a half second's surprise show before regaining his usual demeanor. 

"Lovely," he said. "I'm so glad you've joined me. I wanted to show you the new addition to the household."

The old, empty gallery was no longer empty. Framed oil paintings hung on the walls, a series of artful nudes. Leona had little patience for art, but she feigned interest and made a point of standing very close to Rupin as he played tour guide for her. Each selection was even more explicitly erotic than the last, but Rupin never commented on this. Instead he lectured quite tiresomely about the technique of each. She watched him to see if his face would give away any hint of an ulterior motive, but he never flinched. Her curiosity aroused even more, she stopped him in the middle and said, "Do you mind if we retire to the study? I'm suddenly in the mood to hear your reading voice."

"Of course," Rupin said. If he was surprised again he was better at hiding it. "Your pleasure is always the most important thing." Leona put her arm through his as he escorted her down the hall, leaning into him just a little. She neglected the chairs in the study and instead reclined on a couch, crossing her legs in such a way as to ensure that a few inches of her pleasing, round calves were visible. 

"Do you mind if I request something?" 

"Whatever you like."

She indicated a volume on a nearby shelf: "The 1001 Nights." Rupin handled the book with the air of a dutiful retriever. Leona searched her memory for the perfect selection, finally requesting "Julnar the Mermaid and Her Son, Badar Basim." Though not so well-read as Rupin, she knew the material. She waited for the moment she knew was coming, when the sultan goes to spend the first night with his new virgin concubine (actually an enchanted mermaid, although he doesn't know it yet), then interrupted. "That's not how the story goes."

Rupin looked up. "Pardon?"

"You skipped a part. Let me see it." She snatched the book right out of his hands. The language on the pages was just gibberish to her, but she pretended to read it:

"The king discovered that the girl was a pure virgin, and he marveled that she should have remained unspoiled in the hands of the slavers for so long. She still did not speak to him, but neither did she object when he laid her on the bed and disrobed her with trembling hands. Her moon-white skin sent a hot flush all through his body as he examined her well-shaped legs, curved hips, flat stomach and round, generous breasts. She was like a perfect sculpture all in white marble, and yet her flesh was warm and alive."

She looked up. "See? You left this part out. What a slipshod scholar you must be." She "read" on:

"He tested the inviting, pliant smoothness of her maidenhead, expecting her to wince or cry out but instead finding that she was receptive. She watched him with her dark eyes and spoke not a word. What a wondrous creature, thought the king as he disrobed and prepared to rend the girl's maidenhead and claim her for his own. He nearly ripped his garments as he stripped down. She watched him with detached curiosity."




Beast



"I don't think I recall this part of the story ever being quite so...vivid," Rupin said. Leona ignored him.

"His mouth covered hers. His fingers explored her body. Her skin was like the petals of a soft, delicate rose. He thought, for a moment, What a shame it would be to pick the beautiful blossom...but of course, he could not help himself. He was made for such things, and she, he was convinced, was made for him. There was no decision to be made, only nature to be obeyed. So he covered her with kisses and prepared, in body, mind, and soul, to claim her. He felt a heady rush, as if he drank too much wine at once. She was intoxicating all on her own. He felt the aching burden of his want to indulge fully in the sweet pleasures promised by her body and by the furtive, secretive glances of her dark, silent eyes."

She looked up at Rupin again. He hunched in his chair, like a small child being scolded.

"Her legs parted. She accepted him in. He wished only that she would look him in the eyes and speak his name, but she stayed mute. Perhaps she cannot speak at all, he thought, instantly heartbroken at the idea that he would never hear this beautiful bird sing. Or perhaps, he thought, she will sing when I give her a proper reason. Yes, perhaps then she will sing as long and loud as a nightingale."

Rupin cleared his throat. Leona leaned back, lifting the book so that he would have a view of her breasts straining against the neckline of her dress. She parted her legs the tiniest bit.

"Her hot, soft flesh was completely pliant underneath him. He mastered her completely. They spent the entire night on the divan bed, the king lost in hot ecstasy, the slave girl as mysterious and aloof as ever. Her breasts shook and swayed with the motion of their lovemaking, a hypnotic rhythm that held the king's eyes. She was sweet cream from the pitcher. She was the gentlest of waves on the beach. She was the most delicate, inner petals of the flower. Sugar on his tongue.

"The motion of them turned hard and insistent, even violent. The king was afraid he may hurt the girl, but no, she was more than able to accept the most fervent of his attentions. Perhaps she was even matching them, as if he had awakened something in her, or she was coming into the discovery of it now, a door that, once unlocked, could never be closed again. What kind of satisfaction was this that only birthed a new and more fervent desire? Where was the final the relief from this hot hunger? Where was the line between them? Had they always been two separate halves waiting for this moment when they would finally and eternally become one? This was the fevered thought the king had as soon as the aching, shuddering, crashing, all-consuming force of his—"

"I have to go," Rupin said, standing up like a shot, teetering on his feet for a moment as if he might fall and then all but running from the room. Leona watched him go and then laughed. 

She thought about following him...but no, she decided, let him go, off to his bedchamber or to his gallery or wherever it was he went at such times. She hugged the book to herself. Maybe Rupin would be so embarrassed now that he'd send her away early. That would be the most gratifying victory of all, to know that she'd deprived him of the extra time in which he might have hoped—

There was movement down below, in the garden. Was it—? Yes, it was Rupin. He'd gone out for an evening walk in the snow, just like usual. Leona sagged a little. Was that all? Had she not antagonized him enough to warrant even a minor interruption in his routine? She pouted and became suddenly bored. Bored and angry and disappointed, a terrible combination. She went to her room, taking the fur-lined boots from the closet (a gift from Rupin; everything in the closet was a gift from Rupin, but thus far she'd elected only to wear her own garments, sent from home) and the fur-lined coat as well, wrapping herself tightly and then barging out into the elements. The snowfall was gentle but thick, and it obscured her view. She took a single covered lamp, and Rupin's tracks were still fresh enough that she could follow him. Yes, follow him and confront him, though what she would say she did not know. She only knew that she was angry, and her anger demanded such a confrontation. 

Her pride was much-abused by this entire affair, and she'd held her tongue until now, but there were limits. If her father had ordered her to marry Rupin she could have lived with that, much as she hated him. She could have played the martyr to her satisfaction then; lots of women had. But this ritual of lending her out, like a good draft horse borrowed for the season? That was simply barbaric. And the suggestion that she would ever, ever consent to marry Rupin of her own free will? That was the ultimate insult. She might be forced into such a thing, for lack of the power to prevent it, but she would never choose it. That he thought such a thing was possible was the most beastly thing about him. His presumption: That was why she hated him. That was why he had to pay.

She worked herself into such a fury that she almost didn't see it right in front of her: a splash of blood, frozen in the snow. A little at first, and then more, and when she turned the corner around the hedge of a rosebush (unnatural winter blossoms shifting in the wind, restless) it was as if the ground itself bled. Here was the body of the fawn, its neck bent and legs tangled together. It must have been lost and crept in to nibble the foliage on the bushes. 

Leona heard the crunch of heavy feet on the snow. Her light flickered with the shaking of her hand. Don't turn around, she thought, irrationally. If you never see it, maybe it won't really be there. But of course, she wanted to see it. Even if it meant death, she wanted it. Later, she would comfort herself that at least she did not scream when she looked at it. It helped, perhaps, that she saw it for only a second. More than a second of those agate green eyes, those powerful paws, that lean, muscular body and the lustrous texture of its fur smeared with blood, would have been too much. It was a leopard, she saw, but many times larger than any other of its kind. The king of cats.

The shifting wind brought the scent of its carnivore feasting to her nostrils. The animal stared through her. Though it had just eaten, its hunger would never be satisfied. It could gorge on her unspoiled flesh and be hungry again before the meal hit its belly. This was the story its eyes told her. And then she dropped the lantern. 

It shattered, and darkness took her. She held her breath and waited for the killing moment. At least, she thought, it will probably not take long. A virile hunter like this can kill in one swipe of its paw. She imagined her body sprawled out next to the fawn, their blood comingling, her skin as white as the snow beneath her. She waited with arms spread...

But it didn't happen. She stood there in the snow, holding her breath, but inexplicably kept on living. The animal, it seemed had gone, and she was alone again.

***

Twelfth Night. The final day of Christmas. Tomorrow Rupin would hold the Feast of the Epiphany and again invite the entire village into his home, including her father, and it was then, of course, that he meant to formally ask for her hand. Would he do it in private, she wondered, or in front of everyone? 

He was in the midst of reading her some horrid Russian fairy tale, but Leona was not paying attention. She was busy trying to burn a hole through him using just her eyes. Yes, he'll make a big show of it, she thought. The great Rupin, deigning to marry a mere merchant's daughter, lowering himself to her level. How gracious, the people will say, how gallant! And she is a lovely girl, they will whisper (lovely, but not beautiful). Yes, that much they'll grant her, though their voices will have an edge of pity, as if to say it was a shame that such a lovely girl with such a noble husband could never be a true noblewoman in her own right. How perfectly tragic. 

"Beast!" she muttered.

"Pardon me?" Rupin glanced up from the book.

"I was calling you a beast," Leona said, louder. She went to the fireplace, jabbing at the burning logs. The light from the embers reflected in the glass eyes of the lion skin rug, gilding its bared fangs. "Do you find me charming, Beast?" Leona said.

"As sunshine on a winter morning," he said, absently. "I seem to have lost my place. I think it was—"

She threw the book across the room. He crossed his arms, nonplussed.

"Forget that," she said. "I asked if you find me charming."

"I already answered you."

"I didn't like that answer. Give me another one."

"Which answer would you prefer?" He was all but smirking at her now, she was sure, though his smirk was, as ever, an elusive thing, hiding behind a haze of something that seemed almost too much like sincerity. 

"Do you think me beautiful?" she said. "Do you think I am witty and fair? You mean to ask me to marry you tomorrow. Do you think I'll say yes?" The storm was particularly violent tonight, and the wind howled against the windows. At times Leona thought the old castle might shake to pieces over their heads.

"I cannot even imagine."

Things had been different since the night of the gallery. Her victory over him was short-lived. From that point on he'd seemed increasingly sure of himself, and all of her efforts to fluster him wilted. And great animal was no longer about the grounds, it seemed, for she had not seen nor heard a sign of it since that night. Its absence made her edgy. She was sure Rupin was responsible. 

"You know you're not a real man, don't you?" she said, still holding the fire poker.

"What am I then? A beast?"

"Not even that! A beast has mettle, at least. A beast feels. You're more like a painting. A figure without substance. Have you ever fucked a woman? You don't look as if you have. I think you'd break. Like a doll."

Still he did not react. She sneered and pulled up the hem of her dress, revealing the long, sensuous curves of her well-turned legs. She pulled them up a long way. 

"I've slept with men before. If you're going to propose you should know these things. Let me tell you about the last one: He was a young trapper. He came to sell pelts to my father. I snuck out to the stables with him after midnight. It was dirty in there. Do you want to hear how he did it to me? It's as close as you'll ever get to putting your hands on me, I can promise you that. Are you thinking about it right now? Maybe I'll check for myself." 

She thrust her hand into his lap, and now finally he moved. He bolted to his feet, in fact, and the look on his face stopped her dead in her tracks, but only for a moment. 

"You shouldn't talk like this," he said. He ran his hands through his hair, a distressed gesture she'd seen him use only once before. He left, and she knew without even going to look that he was going to the garden. She sat with her back to the window, refusing to watch him. Tomorrow it would all be over. But no matter what happened it could not erase the embarrassment of it all. She wanted to wound Rupin's dignity as fatally as he had her own. She wanted him never to recover. She had a vision of herself hanging from an elegant noose twisted out of the lace curtains in her room. Yes, that would be a scene he'd never forget, wouldn't it? Not that she really wanted to die, of course. She simply wanted to make a gesture grand enough to convey the proper, stinging rebuke. It would be just as good to—

The sound made every hair on her body turn upright: It wasn't just that it was the call of the great cat or that it was as loud and as bloodthirsty as ever It was also that there was no mistaking the fact that it was coming from just the other side of the library door. She knew that it came in and out of the castle, but she had never encountered it here. Now she heard the click of its claws dragging across the tiles just outside. The windows were blotted out with the whiteness of the blizzard. Leona approached the doors, hands touching the cool brass of the knobs and turning them, feeling all the while that she was in a dream. 

They saw each other. Its eyes made her knees weak. Here, in the full light of the castle, there was no turning away from it. They were so close that, if she'd had the time, she could have counted the spots on its hide. She backed away as it came in, the whiskers around its muzzle twitching as its lips pulled back to allow the warning growl. She backed up until her spine was against the fireplace stones, and when there was nowhere else to go she slid to her knees. The animal shouldered past the tables and chairs, knocking everything out of its way. Soon she was on her back on the lion skin rug and it was standing over her, peering down with those huge, green, unblinking eyes. She felt the tips of its fur, soft and coarse at the same time, rubbing her body. Its breath (and the scent of blood) washed over her. She gasped as its rough tongue licked her cheek. 

This is it, she thought. This time she would really die. She was afraid, but still pleased. They'd find her here, sprawled out on the floor of the library like the body of the fawn in the snow. It seemed as beautiful an image as any in Rupin's art gallery. A shame she hadn't thought to take off her clothes. It would have made a picturesque nude scene. Without thinking, she raised her head and gave her killer a kiss. It was a small gesture, pressing her lips to its muzzle for less than a second, but it engendered a tremendous reaction. The animal backed away, as if her kiss had been a spark from the fire. Leona sat up, afraid at first that it was about to run. But something else entirely happened: it changed.

The animal grew smaller, and as it diminished its hide rippled and its limbs changed shape, and the spots became a constellation of freckles against tanned skin. The proud, defiant cast of its face gave away to all-too familiar features. Only the eyes stayed the same. Eventually the cat was gone, and in its place was a dazed, huddled, naked man, his body still racked with the pain of the transformation. 

Of course, it was Rupin.

***

Another log on the fire. His face glowed in the flames. She sat at his feet like a dutiful daughter, listening. "It was seven years ago," he said. "I was young. Thoughtless. I spurned lovers without a care. One of them decided to teach me a lesson." He shifted in his seat. "A curse, naturally: that I would take the form of a beast every night, and that the curse wouldn't be lifted until a woman agreed to be my bride." He traced the roses in the chair's upholstery with one finger. "Of course, no one would marry me when they found out."

"But why?" said Leona. "If marriage would end the curse then what did it matter?"

"The taint of the devil was all over the thing. You don't know what these superstitious country folk are like. I'm lucky they didn't burn me at the stake. Even if the curse ends, the mark of it will never leave me, in their eyes. Or maybe they simply didn't savor the idea kissing lips that have tasted fawn's blood." 

He laughed. Leona, unconsciously, licked her lips. 

"You can see, of course, why I asked for you. You and your father are outsiders, so you don't have the same...prejudices, as these people. I thought you might..." He groped for words before settling on: "Understand. A foolish notion, I can see. I'm sorry to have brought you into this."

Leona rubbed his bare arms. "Oh, Rupin," she said. "I'm..." The lump in her throat was pride. She swallowed it. "I'm sorry. How you must have suffered..."

He looked away. "Not suffering. Just shame. I might have killed myself, but would the curse even end then? Or would I be a beast in my tomb, forever? It was unbearable..."

"You poor thing. Please accept my apology, Rupin"

"Why are you apologizing now? What difference does all this make?"

"If I had known you were a man with such a capacity for...well, anything at all, I would never have treated you this way. But it's all right, darling. Don't think about it. Don't think about it at all." 

She combed her fingers through his hair (thinking about the shaggy, clean, beautiful fur of the Beast as she did), and leaned in, her lips finding his. She kissed, and kissed, and kissed, and as she did she drew him up out of the chair and down onto the lion skin with her. The animal pelt felt so good against her naked back. Rupin was on top of her, fumbling with her clothes. When she closed her eyes, even for a moment, she saw the stern, calculating face of the Beast in her mind. It was coming up on midnight and the heat was creeping down into her body, like every other night. She flexed against him, again, enjoying the sensation of the fur rug rubbing her body. So comforting, that feeling. And so alluring...

Rupin's mouth on her mouth; Rupin's hands on her breasts; Rupin's thighs pressed against hers. These things were solid, tangible, real. But happening at the same time, in some corner of her mind where thoughts and memories became equally as real, she relived the memory of touching the Beast. Its body had been intensely hot and she recognized it as the same heat that tortured her every night. The Beast was made of that heat. She let her hands crawl down Rupin's bare back and pushed her mouth up against his, harder. A log cracked on the fire and a single orange ember spat out, landing just next to her face. She ignored it.

She remembered the delicious thrill of the Beast pinning her down here on this same spot and the feeling of its rough tongue on her skin. She imagined running her hands across its flanks, feeling the rise and fall of its ribcage and the hot breaths steaming from its muzzle. She imagined splaying her hands across its hide and tracing invisible lines between its spots...

"Not like this," she said out loud. Rupin stopped, startled. She turned so that she was up on all fours, her rear arched into the air, inviting. "Take me like this," she said. "This is how I like it." 

His cupped her behind, squeezing. She had never noticed before, but Rupin's hands felt rough. Not like the hands of a pampered lord at all, really. She braced herself for what came next. Was he hesitating? Or savoring the moment? The Beast, she knew, would have had none of that. The Beast would be hard and immediate. Even Rupin didn't keep her waiting all that long; his calloused fingers held her in place while the tip of him searched for entrance and then, finding it, slid into the wet ache at the center of her. She purred.

Her body flexed back and forth in front of his. Yes, this felt right. Even better when he fully mounted her, lying across her back, his hands braced on the floor, his arms running over hers, so that their bodies were locked in the same position, neither able to move without pushing against the other and driving him further and harder into her. She could not stop picturing the beast mounted on her this way, almost crushing her underneath its body. The muscles of its inhuman frame would be as strong as steel. It was a beautiful machine and she was caught up in it. The throbbing, insistent push of the Beast's cock deep inside her would be hard, too. Her nails raked the floor and a chorus of growls, shrieks, and squeals burst out of her. 

She was going to scream, but even as she opened her mouth and inhaled the Beast's jaws clamped down on the nape of her neck. She froze; it held her like that, helpless and trapped in place, while it continued having its way with her. One bite and she would die. Its claws splayed out on the floor next to her hands (so small in comparison). Could her body contain everything the Beast was putting into it? Or would she break into pieces?

Her knees were sore and her arms were close to giving out, but if she let herself fall her own weight and momentum would snap her neck in the Beast's jaws, so she had to remain upright. She pushed herself up with all her might, but it was harder and harder with all of the power of the Beast pushing, pushing, pushing her down, the muscles of its flanks flexing. It could not go fast enough, she realized. Even its strength was inadequate next to its want. There was still hot blood on its breath. She loved the smell.




Beast



Her fingers clawed at the furry hide of the rug again. "Oh God!" Leona cried, a strangled sound, and the Beast growled under its breath, and then it was spurting and filling her up. It was a surprisingly potent sensation. It released its grip at the same time and she fell, panting in a heap. Her hips and rear stayed arched in the air so that it could continue pumping her full of itself. She purred at the hot, satisfying feeling and buried her face in the floor. The fire burned low.

They stretched out on the rug, twined in each other's arms. Of course, it had been Rupin making love to her, not the Beast. But she liked to imagine it had been the other way, Perhaps, on some level, it really had. But now a curious anxiety hung around her. Something else was to be done now, but what? The impression of a task left half-finished lingered but refused to take definite shape. Rupin also seemed to have more on his mind. 

"Perhaps this next matter should wait until your father is here..." he said.

She nestled closer to him. "Midnight has come and gone. It's the morning of Epiphany. You can ask me."

"Leona: Will you be my wife?"

In answer, she grabbed his hand and kissed it. It seemed good enough. They held onto each other a while yet. Then, almost hesitant, Leona asked, "Do you feel...different?"

"I'm not sure."

"How can we tell if the curse is lifted?"

"I don't know." He shifted a little, sitting up. "Now that you mention it, I do feel a bit odd."

"Odd how?" She sat up with him. 

"It's like...a straining. Like a lock that's just had the key put into it. I feel—"

"Darling, your hands!"

They had become bigger, and his fingers were thick and padded. When he flexed them, they both saw the claws. And now the spots were traveling up his arms and over his body. He tried to talk but his mouth was no longer shaped as it should be. Leona backed away, confused. She shook her head. "I don't understand. Shouldn't the curse end when I agree to marry you?"

"Yes!" Rupin said, with some difficulty. He dropped to all fours, an upright stance now being impossible. "That's what it said: Once I had a bride I would take my one true shape forever."

Leona thought for a moment. Then she laughed. She didn't mean to, and she regretted it right away, but she laughed all the same. And then she cried. "Oh Rupin," she said. "I'm sorry. No, that's a lie: I'm not sorry. I'm just sorry for you. I'm afraid that's all I can do."

If Rupin had an answer it was lost forever. He shook out his fur and flexed his long, powerful legs. His tail twitched. Tears welled up in his great green eyes. Leona, still naked, threw her arms around his neck and hung there, kissing the tears away.

"Oh, my Beast," she said, stroking him. "How beautiful you are."

***

It was the morning of Epiphany. Smothered in furs, Leona walked the garden path with the Beast at her side. The castle doors locked behind them, never to open again. The roses on the hedges drooped, already starting to wither in the cold. She hung a garland of them around the Beast's neck. The fragile petals scattered across the snow. They went over the frozen river and down into the valley, away from prying eyes. And that was where they would stay.



Beast and His Beauty



The pimms and dry hadn't helped settled her nerves. She had hoped it would help her relax and enjoy the excitement that raced through her whole body. Her nipples were erect just thinking about their meeting and the evening ahead. This evening had been planned for months.

They lived on opposite sides of the world and have known each other for 10 months, strictly on the internet. The excitement and desire had been building for days! Their first meeting had been played over and over in her head like her favorite movie scene. She wanted to please him, so badly! Everything had to be carefully chosen.

Although she had an idea on his preferences and fetishes in clothes and lingerie, it took her many hours of shopping, to find exactly the look she wanted. She took off her damp panties and could smell that her excitement had already started to seep out. Her body was extremely aroused. The tingles all over, the sensitivity of her flesh made it all so much more exciting.

As the water from the shower ran down and caressed her nakedness she imagined it was his hands dancing all over her. His hands were big and strong, she knew from the pictures. Slowly washing herself, she could feel her smoothness all over. She watched as the soap bubbles and water were carried down over her full breasts. Then over her stomach to her smooth rounded mound, disappearing between her thighs.

Now dried and cleaned, all the necessary creams rubbed on her naked skin. Unique attention paid to all those special areas. Chanel No5 perfume was her favorite, and she generously sprayed some all over her for this special occasion. Her tanned body was looking very toned and in good shape. The many hours she had sunbaked to tan her long legs and body for this special night were now paying off.

She was pleased with her reflection. Her full breast were tanned nicely and her nipples were a darkened pink. They were highlighted against the lighter shade of the golden tan she had all over. It was time to get dressed.

A skin toned shelf bra was chosen that lifted her breasts nicely and left her nipples exposed to rub against the fabric, keeping her stimulated and highly aroused at all times. She had chosen a ruby red silk blouse that had five buttons starting at her cleavage. It was very smooth and shiny, and it felt erotic against her nipples. Nipples that could clearly be seen through the sheer material.

Her cleavage was very evident, one button undone and you would be able to see the fullness of her breasts.

She wore a pair of very sheer black panties. You could see the smooth lips of her vagina and her well tanned ass clearly through them. They were tight over her ass and emphasized her curves and roundness. Her mini skirt was black and made of satin. It caught the light and drew your attention to all the right areas. It showed off her round curved ass beautifully. The lining was flesh colored, sheer silk and finished mid thigh.

Her long legs disappeared under the skirt and made you want to see more of them and find out where they finished. Black 4 inch stilettoes with sling backs and a 3 inch pointy toe showed off her defined legs. She wore her favorite ruby necklace. It hung beautifully around her long slender neck, resting just above her cleavage. She applied the final touches to her make up and finished styling her long blonde hair. She knew he liked it left out, long and flowing. She left it natural and it fell nicely on each breast.

They were meeting at an Italian seafood restaurant at 7:30pm. She glanced at her watch with five minutes to spare. She was just outside the restaurant he loved and the pit in her stomach was not from hunger. Her nerves were like volts of electric shocks. Her excitement was peaking. How happy she was to finally be with him.

She walked in and scanned the room very fast, almost too fast. Her heart was racing, and still she hadn't spotted him. Then she saw him at the side bar. His back was to her but she knew it was him. He was so tall and strong. She was so wet just from the anticipation of seeing him. Excitement rushed and gushed through her. Be calm she thought. Her legs were electrified and she found it hard to walk. He was turning now and he would see her very soon.

Across the room she glided, ever so smoothly. Their eyes met and he knew it was her. His smile was amazing as were his sea green eyes which bore right through her. His eyes searched and caressed her body. Her nipples were erect and showing through the silky blouse. He smiled with obvious satisfaction.

Her panties were so wet and she could feel the dampness on her thighs now. Their eyes locked and you could feel the electricity between them. Everyone in that room was staring at them. Her body felt like it was on fire. He leaned in close to kiss her on the lips and it took her breath away. His lips were soft and wet and he smelt so good. He placed his hand in the small of her back, just above her ass. She could feel herself tremble with excitement at his touch. His smell drove her secretly crazy, she longed to rip his shirt off and see his strong chest and smell his body all over her.

The kiss finally broke and he handed her a pimm and dry. It was her favorite drink and he knew she would welcome it. He never moved his eyes off her, and they rendered her powerless. She knew she would do anything he asked of her.

They were seated at the table that she had requested when she made the reservation. Their table was in the middle of the room and every other table was facing theirs. They ordered wine and entrees. She could feel his eyes on her, it was a very exciting feeling. She had to control her nervous habit of biting her lower lip constantly as she knew he was looking at her.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear "You are so beautiful, more than I could have ever imagined." She thanked him and felt so very special at that moment. He drove her crazy and she knew that he was aware of his power over her.

They chatted and enjoyed their wine and entrees. Every now and again she glanced around the busy restaurant and saw that couples were staring at them. She was a little surprised when he asked "Are you wearing any panties?" 

She shyly answered yes and smiled. She knew what that meant and their eyes locked for what seemed like hours. She began to remove her panties. Slowly never taking her eyes off of his. She could see and feel his excitement building as she bent down to pick up her panties. While she was bent over she noticed a large bulge in his pants and he had to adjust it for some relief.

The couple sitting opposite them were staring. They couldn't believe what she was doing! She just smiled at them and then sat up and placed her wet panties on the table. He retrieved his gift off the table. He thanked her and smiled commenting that they are very sexy panties. As he inspected the panties, you could here a whisper all over the room. He then brought the panties to his nose and smelt them, his pleasure showing across his face. His smile was beautiful.

She felt his hand on her thigh, it was very strong. His hand was working its way toward her very wet pussy. She stopped his hand, leaned over and whispered "I need to use the bathroom," into his ear. She stood up very slowly and stepped away from the table, then turned back to face him. With her high heels on and him seated she now stood very close to his face. She hitched her skirt very slowly to reveal the flesh colored sheer lining. You could see her pussy and her bulging wet lips. She touched herself and showed him her wetness. He smiled and she reached up to unbutton her top button and then leaned forward.

He could now see her full breasts and erect nipples. She ran her finger along his top lip leaving her smell and the taste of her wetness on his lip. She stood up and walked toward the bathroom without looking back. Everyone in the room was staring at him. He felt so fortunate to be with such a sexy woman.

His erection was becoming extremely uncomfortable, and he had to adjust himself once again. He smiled to himself and signaled the waiter over.

She was so wet. In the ladies room she had to wash and dry herself before going back to the table. When she returned to the table he was gone. She assumed he was taking this opportunity to use the bathroom as well. How wrong she was. 

The waiter came over and told her that her partner had instructed him to hold the main meals, until we returned. From where she thought? Her curiosity was making her extremely excited now. She walked outside into the night air. It was fresh and it cooled her hot body down quickly, giving her shivers and causing her already erect nipples to stand out even more. She couldn't see him anywhere and she felt panic start to rise in her. Where had he gone? Why?

A taxi pulled up and the door opened. He beckoned her over to join him. Her heart and mind were racing, and she tried so hard to seem relaxed. She slid in next to him on the back seat. Nothing was said, their eyes and bodies talked to each other. The driver was given instructions. When the cab pulled away he lifted her up onto his lap.

Their eyes fixed on each other. Her skirt was short and had ridden higher. She could feel her naked ass exposed to the air. She knew the driver would be able to see her. That excited her even more but still she tried to cover it by pulling at her skirt. When both of her hands were busy pulling at her skirt her lover, ever so gently, grabbed them both and pulled them behind her back and tied them together with a silk scarf. Her heart was pounding and she could hear it and feel it. Her eyes must have showed fear because he reassured her with his that everything was fine and she could trust him. She did.

She sat there straddled on his lap. Her pussy and wetness totally exposed to him. He was looking at them with such hunger and desire. She could feel her wetness leaking onto his bulging pants. He slowly undid another button of her blouse, then another, to reveal her full erect breasts. Her nipples were so hard. He licked them with his long tongue. His touch was too much for her, she started to moan instantly.

He then covered one nipple with his mouth and sucked on it hard while the other one was rolled between his finger tips. He then began to kiss her passionately, his tongue exploring her mouth and lips. Her eyes were fixed on his, she wanted him so bad. She ached for his touch. She was begging him with her eyes. Please untie me and let me touch you, she thought to herself. 

He smiled and then inserted 2 fingers into her soaking pussy. She let out a loud moan and her legs began to tremble. He stopped straight away. His tongue then silencing her moan and exploring her mouth further. His free hand was exploring her ass and supporting her, stopping her from falling back. He could see everything he wanted and feel what he couldn't.

Once again he pushed 2 fingers inside her and waited for her reaction. She then realized that the quieter she was the more pleasure he would give her. He was now working her pussy well. She was squirming and her legs were uncontrollably trembling. She pushed her mound onto his fingers and tried to grind herself against his big strong hand and fingers. The pleasure was amazing.

He then inserted 3 fingers and moved them with rhythm in and out. It felt beautiful , and she was responding by grinding her smooth soaked mound onto his hand. With his thumb he started to rub her erect clitoris. She felt the wave of electricity surge through her body instantly!. He stopped and kissed her so hungrily. Her pussy was aching for his touch. She was thrusting her pelvis high off his lap into the cool air. She was pleading with him to finish what he started.

He gently grabbed her ass and placed it back on his lap. She could feel the bulge in his pants. It was so hard, she wanted it so bad, he knew it too. He simply pushed her back and began to finger her again. This time the intensity was faster and he rubbed her clit as he pushed his fingers deeper into her. The sheer pleasure was unbelievable and the power surges she felt through her body were incredible. Her legs were shaking and she was thrusting her pelvis high off his lap now. She was squirming with sheer uncontrollable pleasure. He sucked each nipple and continued to drive his fingers into her and rub her.

She could feel her climax so close now, her lips were so swollen and her pussy so wet. One more rub and it was there, they both felt the hot explosion gush from her and the uncontrollable shaking continued. He watched as her eyes rolled and her whole body shook with pleasure and the hot cum ran out of her all over his hand and pants.

When her breathing slowed he untied the scarf and freed her hands. That had been the most amazing orgasm she had ever experienced. She sat there on his lap still breathless. He had some tissues to help wipe some of her wetness up, but his pants would remain wet for a long while. She cleaned herself up and smoothed her skirt down over her ass and sat next to him. She never looked at the driver.

"That was incredible. Thank you!" she said as she brushed his lips with hers. They pulled up in front of the restaurant, and he whispered in her ear "I hope you enjoyed your entree?"

"Yes, the best one I have ever ordered, most satisfying, thank you" she smiled.

"Well, now we have mains and desserts to order," he whispered in her ear as they headed back into the crowded restaurant.