by Leigh Wilder
The Beauty and the Beast
Leigh Wilder
Copyright Leigh Wilder 2012
Cover art copyright Meckfisto at Dreamstime Stock Photos and Free Stock Images
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In the scene Kate had been called 'Beauty' for so long she didn’t think anyone knew her real name. She rarely remembered it herself—since she had become a professional Dominatrix after getting laid off the real world seemed so very far away. Sometimes she thought she lived in a fantasy land of leather and chains, and there was nothing else out there.
The castle she pulled her car up in front of didn’t seem real either. It wasn't really a castle, but a massive Victorian house with a wrap-around porch festooned in deep red climbing roses, like Sleeping Beauty’s castle. A lovely turret room jutted out from the second floor. When young she dreamed of being a princess in a round room just like that. As she grew up it became obvious she wasn't going to be a princess. She was a queen.
Kate got out of the car and walked up to the house with the strong, confident steps of someone who not only got what they wanted, but expect to get it every time. She had no idea what to expect here. The house belonged to a man almost as notorious in the scene as she. Women called him 'The Beast,' but they tended to flutter and sigh as they did so, and the moniker was not a negative one. They said he would take submissive flesh and devour it, and titter like schoolgirls.
Kate did not submit for anyone or anything. Because the Beast did not play in public very often, she could only guess at his ability to devour. She stepped up to the huge porch, pausing to finger one of the rose’s silky petals and breathe in the fragrance. Not really thinking, just wanting the rose, she snapped the bloom off the stem and tucked it behind her ear, careful to let the tiny thorns catch in her hair instead of her skin. She approached the door and rang the bell. He had invited her to dinner in his home. She just wished she knew why she had accepted.
The Beast himself answered the door. A bit beast-like in looks as well as in manner, he was a tall, broad man and wore a beard. For one frightening moment Kate felt like Red Riding Hood confronting the wolf. She didn't let it show. “Hello Nathan,” she said, having dug up his real name in the depths of a memory filled with names like 'Shadow' and 'Baby Kitten' (one of her male clients) or ‘Phoenix.’
“Kate,” he greeted her, and she blinked, taken aback that he knew her real name as well. “I’m so happy you made it this evening.” He spoke with an easy smile, and stepped aside so she could enter the house, glancing at the stolen rose but not commenting. The hallway was painted in cool greys paired with pale wood and little color. If this were my place I’d warm it up a bit, she thought. She had always wanted a big old house (impossible with the money she made), and her favorite color, of course, was red.
“Thank you for the invitation,” she said. Forget the niceties, she thought. Tell me what you want. He had to have an underlying motive for inviting her to dinner. They moved down the cool hallway to the dining room, decorated slightly closer to the period correctness the house craved, with striped wallpaper and a heavy oak table, set with rose patterned dinnerware. She stared at it and imagined sweeping all of the fine china to the floor and tying him down to it, taming the big beast of a man at her side.
She had these thoughts about most men she encountered, but Nathan was nowhere near her type. Too big, too masculine. Like Kate, he had the look of someone who liked to be in control. She wanted to yank that control away. He pulled her chair out for her and she thanked him, pretending she was not having dirty thoughts about his table. She placed her napkin in her lap and waited for an explanation.
She was surprised he served her salad and soup on his own—not a submissive or pet or slave in sight, and he didn’t really settle into his chair until the main course. Dinner was prime rib—suitable for the flesh-hungry beast across from her.
“No doubt my invitation to dinner tonight perplexed you,” he said, not touching his own meal. She had her fork raised to her mouth and stopped, setting it down again, waiting. He continued. “I have a proposition—a proposal, if you will—for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“Beauty, will you marry me?”
She nearly stood up at the table in shock. “Excuse me?”
“I love you. I love everything about you. I want you to be my wife.”
Certain her jaw had fallen on her dinner plate, Kate replied with, “Are you insane?” He didn’t answer, so she answered for him, getting up from the table. “There’s so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to begin!” Her curiosity over the meeting melted away, and she was left with an agitation that would not let her sit still. She paced back and forth along her side of the table, careful not to get too close in case he might bite. “Forget that we’ve never even been alone in the same room before—you’re The Beast.”
“And you’re Beauty.”
She paused before answering. “I don’t see what that has to do with any of this.”
“We belong together,” he said. “Isn’t it obvious? You and I, we understand each other. We know what it’s like to dominate, to take control. You are the only person I’ve ever met that gets as much joy out of torturing some poor soul as I do.” He stood up too to walk towards her, and she backed away, not frightened by his looming figure, but wary. “And your grace and skill. When you play at the dungeon I can never take my eyes off of you. I’ve never met a domme with such lust and zeal.” He referred to Club Midnight, the local dungeon and swingers club. She was paid to do demonstrations and workshops at the club, and she liked to just play there. She had noticed him many times in the crowd, watching.
“That is your problem,” she couldn’t help pointing out. “I’m a dom. And so are you.”
“I want my wife to be my equal. I don’t want a sub who needs direction from me every time I turn. I don’t need someone to worship me. I can get that out of any sub. I want a partner. A woman who will fight me when we disagree and love me when we don’t.” He stopped speaking for a moment. “I can see from your expression that you are not pleased.”
“No, I’m not,” she said. “I don’t do partners. I’m in it for me and me alone.” Even as she said it she felt a little lonely. She had her clients, she had lovers, but they always left at the end of the night. She couldn’t relax in bed with them wearing sweatpants and watching TV—it would spoil the allure. She would lose control. Control was important. If things did not go her way, it meant they could go terribly wrong.
“I understand,” he said. “I do, because it can be the same way with me. But I’m getting tired of it. Aren’t you tired of not having anyone who can truly listen and care? Wouldn’t it be a relief to have a man you could turn to in a weak moment?”
“I don’t have weak moments,” she said, her voice squeaking because she was in the middle of one. The situation couldn’t get much more out of control. “Thank you for dinner, and goodnight.”
She turned to leave but he moved fast, blocking the doorway. “Please, Beauty. Kate. Just hear me out.”
“What?” she snapped. “Do you think you can dom me into changing my mind?”
“A wager,” he said. “A bet.”
“I don’t gamble.”
“No,” he said with a smile. “I don’t imagine you do. You, Kate, would never let your hair down and take a chance.”
She touched her hair, knotted up in a prim librarian bun at the back of her head. He had the gall to challenge her. “I’m listening.”
“We sit
down to a lovely dinner. I have chocolate for dessert. And afterwards we will go upstairs. If you enjoy yourself, you consider my offer. If you don’t we will never speak of it again. You can go back to your submissive boy toys, and I will continue to watch from afar.”
“Stalker,” she muttered. “I’m not hungry any more. Let’s just get this over with.”
“As you wish,” he said, and let her walk ahead of him back into the hallway and up the stairs. He caught up to her on the landing and grabbed at the clip holding her hair in place.
“Don’t,” she protested too late, her hair falling down in ripples of dark curls. His finger’s caught in the and she had to hold still or risk having her hair yanked. Nathan pulled her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck. His lips were warm and smooth and as she never had any of her clients kiss her there she couldn’t resist shivering under his touch. The unexpected thrill rushed through her entire body, erupting in an unexpected heat between her legs.
I won’t let you dominate me, she thought. The Beast’s sexual prowess was legendary and he was considered a prodigy when it came to pleasing a woman either with a whip, his mouth or his cock. She might not mind enjoying the latter two. He continued to kiss her neck, nibbling his way around until his lips danced across her jaw. Kate turned her head to meet his mouth.
Some men could not kiss. Their tongues were invading wet worms slithering in her mouth and she had to fight the urge to gag.
The Beast did not have this problem. He attacked her mouth with ferocity equal to his name and she kissed back with verve, biting at his lips. He could attack—she devoured. Kate found herself being pushed against the wall on the landing. She didn’t like that. She grabbed Nathan by the hair and yanked his head back. “Bad dog,” she said, wriggling out from under him and stepping up a few more stairs so she stood above him. This beast needed obedience training in the worst way.
Nathan looked at her with a strange expression. Confusion at being reprimanded, and also a little bit of anger for being put in his proper place—below her. “Did you think I would be so easy?” she asked, and hurried up the remaining stairs to the hallway.
The house had three bedrooms and for a moment she was envious of the amount of room Nathan had in his Victorian castle. Her one bedroom apartment doubled as her work space and as a result she had a dungeon instead of a living room with all of her personal items crammed into the bedroom. To have enough space to spread out and stretch…how lovely.
Three of the four doors stood open. The first, a bathroom, she didn’t care about, but the other two were a lot more interesting. The play room was on her right, painted dark red and full of the props of the lifestyle—a wooden St. Andrew’s cross, a low, padded bench with restraints, multiple hooks in the ceiling for suspension and a sturdy-looking set of stocks. The room even held a bed, a simple double mattress and frame with black sheets. His equipment was beautiful, much nicer than her own set-up, made to be portable in case she went to a client’s place or a hotel. The tools of their trade hung in neat rows on the walls. Floggers, whips, paddles, coils of rope and lengths of chain. The room was elegant, erotic.
The bedroom surprised her, decorated in warm autumn colors, the bulk of the space taken up by an enormous four-posted antique bed. “Which room would you like?” he asked, coming up behind her. The bedroom seemed too personal, too intimate. It reflected much more of Nathan than the play room, which while nice, looked like most other play rooms she had seen. She knew having sex in a room full of restraints and torture implements would be a bad idea, but the intimacy of his bed was frightening.
“Let’s do it in the shower,” she said instead.
He laughed, but his mirth faded quickly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve invited anyone into my bedroom.”
“Why me?” she had to ask.
“You are bold and beautiful and sexy. You are good at what you do—you are elite. But I think you’re lonely too.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “I’m fine.” Her voice gave an unexpected waver
“I’m lonely too,” he whispered.
“The bedroom,” she said finally. She tried to tell herself she chose it so he couldn’t get any ideas in the dungeon, but something about the way he told her he never took women in there made her reconsider.
She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, testing the mattress. Firm, but not hard. Perfect. He stood in front of her, watching. She raised her foot swiftly, just missing hitting him in the balls. He jumped back a little, and she hid a grin. “Take off my boots?” she asked with a smile.
“Will you take off mine?” he countered.
“I don’t do men’s feet,” she replied.
Regardless, he went down on one knee to unzip her high-heeled boot and pull it off. He took his revenge by running a finger across the arch of her foot. Kate was ticklish—a closely guarded secret—and nearly kicked him in the face as she let out an uncontrolled shriek. “Don’t!” she cried out.
He stood. “Twenty seconds and I’ve already found your weakness.”
“Don’t tease me,” she said. “I’ll walk out right now.”
“You can’t,” he said. “I have your shoe.”
She lunged forward to grab the boot but he tossed it away and stepped in front of her, blocking her path off the bed by moving close between her legs. “Don’t cross me,” she said. He was too close. Her only possible (and undignified) mode of escape might be to scoot backwards across the bed and dart for the door. At the moment she did not like the Beast very much.
“You promised to give me a chance,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking. I love you.” His cocky confidence fell away and for a moment Kate saw an unexpected vulnerability and she realized that when he said he loved her, he meant it. If she denied him it would hurt him. She didn’t know what to do. “Please,” he begged.
“I don’t love you,” she said finally, wanting to be honest. It never once occurred to her to love the man, but now he stood in front of her, exposed, honest and raw. She could get used to seeing this side of him.
“Why not?”
“I’ve never been in love.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“No.” She didn’t have a personality that went well with softer emotions. Being a domme worked for her because she could adopt a persona of not caring without anyone finding out she really didn’t. She had been doing it for so long, it never occurred to her that there was another way to feel.
Nathan, she realized, probably had a life outside of the scene. She bet he called his mother and still talked to his old high school friends. Maybe he went out with his coworkers for drinks on the weekend. People who called him Nathan and didn’t know him as the Beast.
He called her ‘Kate.’ No one called her by her name.
“Nathan,” she said finally with a sigh. “This is strange.”
He kissed her again, softer this time, and she could sense his pleading for love in his kiss. It was soft and sweet and altogether different from any kiss she’d had in a long time. Oh, she thought, and she realized she kind of liked it.
His hand slid up her arm and to her cheek, cupping her face and she felt herself falling backwards onto the bed. His body was on top of her, covering her. She didn’t have a chance to react before he had her arms pinned over her head. “I’ve got you,” he said, that trickster grin back.
Bastard. She yanked at her arms. Unable to free herself she brought up her knee to attempt to clip him in the balls. He rolled away to avoid her blow, pulling her on top of him.
She had some familiarity with this situation. She adjusted to straddle him at crotch level. “You’re not serious about any of this, are you?” she accused him, no longer sure of anything. Was he love-sick, or just trying to get her into the sack?
“Let me fuck you and I’ll show you how serious I am.”
“I’m the one on top,” she said. “I think I’ll be the one doing the fucking.”
She could feel hi
s cock growing hard beneath her, making her blood rush. She ground her crotch against his, enjoying the building friction. She wanted him hard inside her, and she was surprised how much she wanted it. She slid down his legs to give herself access to his fly and worked it open. Freeing his cock, she took him in her hand and wrapped measuring fingers around him. She approved. He was thick and strong, a properly beastly cock appropriate for hard, animalist rutting.
Deciding to throw her new dog a bone, She leaned down and kissed the tip. She rested her lips on the head of his prick and shifted her gaze to look up at him from under her lashes.
“What are you waiting for?” he demanded. She gave him a wicked grin and opened up her mouth to gently nip his cock with her teeth before pulling away. “Beauty,” he said a warning in his voice. He sat up to pull off her shirt, leaving her in her black bra. She started on the buttons of his shirt as well, determined to keep the nudity equal. He was beast-like in physique too, broad and strong. He could over-power her easily if he wanted. He snapped open the front-closure of her bra, her full breasts bobbing as they felt freedom from their lace and satin prison. She kissed him, initiating the kissing for the first time that evening, and they fell back together on the bed.
Together. It wasn’t a word Kate used. Even when she was with a man she felt alone.
He rolled her over onto her back and she lifted her hips to let him pull off her skirt and panties. She was still wearing one boot and he pulled that off too, and he stood briefly to shed his slacks the rest of the way. Nathan climbed on top of her. He pressed himself against her opening and ducked his head to lick and nibble at her nipples, delicate at first but with growing ferocity.
His attentions kindled a flame inside her, the heat building to uncomfortable levels. She had never wanted anyone so much. She didn’t even notice Nathan grab one of her wrists, but as soon as he had both arms pinned against the mattress she was very aware he had her trapped. She pulled at her arms. Unless he wanted her to go there was no escape.
