by Nancy Madore
The Beast slowly lifted his huge hand and lightly caressed my face. I gasped in shock when I felt it. It was so rough as to almost inflict pain with the slightest touch.
The Beast’s eyes flared with momentary anger, but then quieted as he studied me with troubled eyes. “I do not want to hurt you, Beauty,” he murmured. “It is you who controls the destiny of us both.”
I could not grasp the meaning of his words. His presence was slowly overpowering me, enveloping and entrapping me in its dangerous power. It seemed as if he were warning me of something. Had he said that I was in control? Should I stop him? I wondered. Could I still stop him? I felt too weak to move.
Meanwhile his hands, which were quite large as I have said, and clawed, crudely rubbed my tender skin, slowly working their way to my breasts. To my surprise, my nipples immediately responded, hardening under his touch. A moan escaped my lips as he squeezed them; the brute force of his hands combined with my own continually growing desire was agonizing.
He continued to touch me and, when he reached the place between my legs, I felt a wave of shame as my own excitement became evident. The Beast was now changing rapidly; with each passing moment he was becoming more like a beast and less like a man.
“On your knees,” he grunted, between heavy breaths. I stared at him, speechless. The reality of what was happening suddenly dawned on me. He would take me just as he would an animal. It was too late to change my mind, however, for he was already brusquely maneuvering my body into the position he commanded right there on the floor. He did this so swiftly and efficiently that I had no doubt left about his strength, or the futility of my trying to escape.
I remained motionless where he placed me for several moments, while the Beast, meanwhile, hastily worked behind me to remove his clothing. Still too frightened to risk angering the Beast by turning to look at him, I could only wonder frantically what lay behind the elaborate garments the Beast took such pains to hide himself in. But my curiosity eventually got the better of my fears and, almost without my willing it to, my head turned in the Beast’s direction. An involuntary gasp escaped my lips.
The Beast was unclothed, except for his shirt, which hung open, revealing a torso that was covered in coarse animal hair. From the waist down his body resembled that of a lion’s, with two huge paws for feet, and a long tail that hung to the floor. But even more frightening than anything I have described so far was the object that jutted out just below his waistline. It was of a deep reddish purple color and inhuman in size. I was certain that I would never be able to withstand it.
The Beast heard my gasp and caught sight of me staring at him in horror. He let out a terrible roar that had only the smallest resemblance to the words, “Turn around!”
“You will kill me!” I cried, in real terror, even as I obeyed his harsh command.
“I promise you will live,” he replied, with a sudden return to his former gentleness. His voice trembled with his effort to speak. “This is the way it must be until you free us both from this fate.”
I was bewildered by his words, but I had no time to dwell on them, for suddenly I felt his breath, hot as steam, between my legs. Even with this warning, I was completely unprepared for what followed.
As rough as sandpaper and larger than the leaf of an oak, the Beast’s tongue slowly wriggled and dug itself into my most tender place. I nearly jumped out of my skin, but the Beast held me firm, even as he repeated the action again, and still again. At once aggravated and enthralled by the harsh persistence of the inhuman thing that continued to rub and pry at my delicate flesh, I could do little more than twitch and jerk, one moment desperately trying to get away, and the next moment pressing myself toward him. His large tongue easily covered my exposed area in its entirety with one rough stroke, and then carefully resumed its invasion of my inner flesh with the enthusiasm of a hungry animal. I was near the point of swooning, so overcome with excitement was I.
At last the Beast stopped with a grunt, and I felt his oversized fingers prying me open. By now my entire body was shaking violently.
In spite of my excitement, I felt an immense pressure as the Beast began to press himself into me from behind. I protested with little cries, and my body instinctively edged forward in an effort to escape the intruding Beast. This he would not allow however, and his powerful hands grasped my waist harshly, jerking me all the way back until he entered me. I screamed.
With visible difficulty, the Beast struggled to retain what little human restraint he still possessed. His whole body shook as he held me firmly in place and, in a strangled voice, he insisted, “You will get used to me in a moment.”
But I was getting used to him before he finished his statement. My entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire. I moaned, tentatively rocking back and forth. But there was much more than what I had thus far experienced to endure. Pulling my hips forward in short little jerks, the Beast began a steady but gradual advance.
“Slowly,” I heard him murmur, possibly to himself, as he continued to edge himself into my body. Little by little he pushed forward, all the while holding me firmly in place. All I could do was remain motionless, gasping and whimpering, one moment in extreme pleasure, the next in exquisite pain.
I would never have thought it possible, but I was, in fact, able to take the Beast entirely. Yet I could scarcely breathe when at first the Beast filled me completely, for I felt as if I were being impaled. I was conscious of nothing but that part of me he filled.
Very slowly, with ragged breathing and low growls, the Beast began to move himself in and out of me. He continued the slow pace for quite some time, allowing me to become completely accustomed to him; but at last his grunts and moans became wilder and louder, and likewise his strokes became rougher and quicker. His breath seared the skin on my back. His hands bored into my flesh, bruising the tender skin. I thought I felt his teeth nip my shoulder.
I was aroused to the point of pain. With my inhibitions long gone, I began to touch myself to enhance the pleasure as I struggled against the Beast.
But I was too late. With a deafening yell and one last hard thrust, the Beast filled me with a tremendous deluge, the excess of which flowed down my trembling legs.
I was profoundly disappointed and attempted to pull myself away from the Beast, but he held me firmly in place, remaining inside me, still fully aroused, as he reached around for my hand and replaced it between my legs. He held it there until I grasped what he wanted me to do.
I was momentarily embarrassed by his knowledge of what I had been doing, but that quickly disappeared as my enthusiasm once more returned. Realizing that I had as much time as I wished to enjoy the Beast, I once again began to stimulate myself. Meanwhile, the Beast slowly pulled himself out of me, almost to the very end, and then, just as slowly, pushed himself all the way back in. He continued this patiently while I sought my own pleasure.
My every sense was awakened and aroused. My skin prickled under the rough hands that grasped my hips. My ears were ringing with the raw, animal sounds that echoed throughout the moonlit chamber. My eyes were riveted to the spot on the floor that displayed the images of our two contrasting shadows as they struggled intimately against each other. My inner thighs were sticky and wet. I thought about the Beast’s sharp teeth on my shoulder as I finally found my own satisfaction.
That began my nightly visits to the Beast’s private bedchamber. And for me, each night was more pleasurable than the one before, and I no longer felt embarrassed or ashamed. In fact, my Beast was appearing much less beastly to me, and my affection made him appear, at times, even handsome. Even so, when the Beast asked me to marry him each evening, I gently declined.
One day, some months later, I received a message that my father was ill. At supper I showed the message to the Beast. After reading it he looked up at me in horror.
“Please don’t go, Beauty,” he begged.
“I must!” I cried. “If anything happens to my father before I see him again I shal
l never forgive you!”
The Beast was silent for a moment.
“Beauty,” he said pleadingly, “if you leave this castle, it will mean certain death for me.”
“I don’t understand,” I replied, annoyed suddenly with all the mystery that surrounded him. It had become an unresolved matter between us that so many questions always remained unanswered. Once again I implored him, “Won’t you please explain your mysterious words?”
“I cannot,” came the usual reply, but his chagrin at his seeming inability to tell me the truth made him a little more indulgent. “I will not stop you from leaving this castle as long as you promise to return to me in one month,” he said. “If you stay longer than that I will surely die.”
“I promise,” I replied with a sigh, knowing I would learn no more from him on the matter.
“I hope you keep your promise, Beauty,” he said miserably. Then he rose to leave, but at the doorway he turned to add, “There will be two trunks put out before you leave. Fill them with as many riches from the castle as you like and take them to your family.”
That evening I was more eager than usual to go to my Beast, but there was also much to do in preparation for my journey. I rushed to and fro frantically, all the while longing for the moment when I could be near my Beast and bid him a more personal farewell.
When at last I entered his chamber, I was positively quivering with excitement. The Beast was sitting in a chair in a remote corner of the darkened room. Removing my robe, I positioned myself on the edge of the bed in just the way he liked best, as was my habit. Within seconds I was soaking wet and aching for him. That’s the way it was for me with the Beast. It was enough just to wait there, trembling and poised on my hands and knees, anticipating what was to come, to bring about that kind of response in me.
I had not even heard him move when suddenly I felt his crude hands caressing my soft skin.
“Turn around,” he said suddenly in his gruff whisper.
I paused for a moment, stunned.
“I want to see your face tonight,” he said simply.
Intrigued by something new, I quickly obeyed his request, and turned so I was lying down on my back. I silently watched him as he removed his clothes, able for the first time to observe him openly. He appeared so much more fierce and animallike without his clothing. I shuddered with trepidation as I stared at his naked form. Once again, as on that very first night, it occurred to me that, in appearances at least, he really was more beast than man.
But he is a man, I insisted inwardly, refusing to acknowledge any idea that might, if allowed, somehow bring about an end to these nightly pleasures. Yet I closed my eyes as the naked beast approached.
“Open your eyes, Beauty!” he rasped.
I did so and saw his manhood poised before my lips. He took my head in his hands, but I resisted. The Beast refrained from forcing himself into my mouth, but neither did he yield his grasp of my head.
I stared at the object before me. It was shaped differently from that of a normal man’s, besides being larger, and was much darker in color. I tentatively put out my tongue, very lightly and cautiously tasting the object that brought me so much pleasure. The Beast shuddered, and suddenly I was seized with a desire to please him. I opened my mouth and caressed him gently with my lips at first, but soon found myself sucking hungrily. He was so large that I could only take a fraction of him, and that with great effort, but he seemed not to mind this; for what I was able to take I took with relish, clutching him with lips and tongue and jaw.
Abruptly the Beast stopped me and removed himself from my mouth. Pushing me down on the bed he spread apart my legs. I stared into his dark eyes as he approached. There was something shining there—something inhuman. I wanted to turn away, but his eyes held mine. A wave of terror trickled through me.
The Beast growled loudly as he entered me. My legs were stretched almost to the point of breaking as I tried to accommodate his immense form. He rasped and grunted as he mercilessly used my tender flesh. His hot breath burned my skin, and I watched with horrified fascination as his sharp teeth carefully nipped at my shoulders and breasts.
But my terror was quickly being joined by that old familiar pleasure that the Beast had kindled within me. They were both working together with the Beast to bring me toward a passion I had never before experienced. I relished the coarse animal hair that covered his body and the fierce, animal sounds that escaped him as he savagely mated me. I squirmed and moaned as his large, rough hands simultaneously bruised my tender skin and sent shivers of delight just beneath its surface. I cried out time and again, helplessly, pleading and dizzy in the utter agony of such exquisite sensations that came from him filling me to overflowing. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through me as I vaguely heard the Beast’s tremendous roar amidst my own screams.
Before I could even catch my breath, morning had come!
I left in such a flurry of activity and excitement that I did not think of my Beast for many days. My father recovered quickly upon my arrival, and I became reabsorbed in the eventful days of a large family. Too quickly my month was up, and it was time for me to return to the castle.
No doubt the stories that you read made me seem quite unkind, and even unwilling to return to my Beast. Nothing could be further from the truth. I missed him terribly! I wanted more than anything to return to the castle, but my dear mother wept each time I made an attempt to leave.
Nearly two months passed in this way, until late one evening I awoke with a start from a dream of the castle and my Beast. In the dream all was dark as I wandered through the halls of the castle in search of my Beast. Upon entering his bedchamber, I found the Beast sleeping peacefully in his bed. As I approached him, it slowly occurred to me that my Beast was not sleeping at all, but dead! It had been my scream that awakened me.
Suddenly I remembered the Beast’s warning that he would certainly die if I extended my stay for longer than a month!
I immediately jumped from my bed and packed my things. By morning I was ready to leave and, after a sad but firm goodbye, I began my journey home to the castle and my Beast. Oh, how I suffered that day, worrying that I should never see my Beast again! If only I had known how true that would be…
When at last I arrived at the castle later that day, I immediately rushed to the Beast’s bedchamber. The Beast was lying on the bed, exactly as he had been in my dream.
“No!” I screamed, as I rushed to his side. “Please, Beast, don’t die!”
His head moved slightly when he heard my voice. I wept with joy and threw my arms around him. “Thank goodness you’re not dead,” I kept murmuring through my tears.
“You came back,” was all he said.
“Yes, I’m back…for good!” And I knew I would never leave him again.
“Will you marry me, Beauty?” he asked.
“Yes, Beast,” I said through my tears. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Barely had I uttered those words when, suddenly, there was a great flash of light. In the next instant a strange man sat where the Beast had been lying only a moment before. My Beast had disappeared. I gasped in astonishment and took a step backward.
“Oh, Beauty,” exclaimed the stranger. “Finally you have freed me from the curse!”
I blinked through my tears as I tried to comprehend the man’s words. He was explaining that he was my Beast, who was really a prince who had been turned into a beast by the spell of an evil witch. Being an especially wicked witch, she had cruelly added the seemingly impossible condition that the prince would be released from the spell only if his true love would agree to marry him while he was still a Beast!
So this stranger is my Beast, I thought, amazed. I examined his face and saw that he was indeed a handsome prince. I could not account for the disappointment I felt and besides, I had never seen my Beast happier than he was on that day. We married.
And now I must end my tale, as it is late and time to prepare for my husband, the prince. He comes to my
bedchamber now and, as always, I shall be ready for him when he gets here.
But I shall not search his eyes for that savage glow.
Or listen for that deafening roar.
I stopped looking for those things years ago.
Bluebeard
There once lived a wealthy gentleman who had acquired property throughout several kingdoms. He traveled extensively from one to the next, never staying for any length of time in any one place, so that no one knew just where he resided or what he did and with whom. Because of this, there was much curiosity and speculation about the man.
This circumstance was further aggravated by an irregularity in the man’s aspect that seemed to confirm his apparent eccentricity, for he was so unfortunate as to have a beard that was blue. His mysterious lifestyle combined with his peculiar appearance tipped the scales of favor against him just enough that he became, perhaps unjustly, regarded as a man of disreputable character. His surname was abandoned and forgotten, and he was known simply as Bluebeard.
The mysterious life of Bluebeard was a regular topic of conversation among the neighbors of his various mansions, castles and estates, and, with each story that was told of him, his reputation became more and more scandalous. It was, in fact, widely believed that Bluebeard owned his many properties for the sole purpose of housing numerous wives. And when those wives failed to materialize, it was further decided that they must have met with some unfortunate disaster. Who these women were or what exactly it was that happened to them, no one could say for sure. Nevertheless, the ladies shrank back in fear whenever Bluebeard approached.
Now it came to pass that one of Bluebeard’s neighbors was a widow who had two grown daughters. Upon visiting his property in that region, Bluebeard noticed the daughters, and shortly thereafter he revealed to the widow his desire to marry one of them, leaving the choice of which to the daughters themselves. But the widow’s daughters, upon hearing of Bluebeard’s offer, passed him back and forth between them, as neither one could bear the thought of having such a frightful-looking husband with so uncertain a past. In this way they put him off repeatedly until at last Bluebeard, in an effort to win the affection of one or the other, invited them to be his guests in one of his castles far away. This they readily agreed to, as they were curious to know how Bluebeard lived, and to see if the rumors about his exceptional wealth and eccentricities were true.
