Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (An Adult Fairy Tale Novel)

by du Lys, Cerys

  "What did he do to her? What do you think he did? What he does to every pretty face. Oh, Beatrix adored Everett. Being a witch doesn't make you any less foolish in regards to love. Everett saw her as another conquest, and quite a lofty one. Who wouldn't? It's not every day you have a chance to fuck an immortal witch, now is it? And so he did what he does. He slept with her and then pissed her off. The morning after, while she wandered down from his bedroom to get breakfast, he informed her that he needed her out of his mansion within the hour because he had guests arriving."

  "Oh," Danya said.

  The seamstress was still taking her measure, but the tape was getting tighter and tighter. Taya pulled it tighter still, squeezing the measuring tool against Danya's bare skin. She wrapped the tape around Danya's backside and back to her front, constricting it around her model's bare clit. Danya gasped and squirmed and Taya slapped at her breasts to keep her from moving, but that only made her fidget more.

  "Stand still!" Taya said. "Fucked by our master and you can't take a little tension on the old love button there? My gods."

  "Please," Danya said. "I don't like this."

  "You know what? I don't like it, either. Cursed because of some folly done by the man who runs the house, while I didn't do nothing to help him? Then brought back, just like that. I was trapped in a dress dummy for all those years, sitting there, waiting. Do you think Beatrix is just going to be done with it and forgive us all? Doubtful."

  'I don't see—" Danya started to say, but Taya wrapped the tape around her back and pressed it hard against her breasts, squeezing them together. The tape lay directly on her nipples, which quickly jutted out in reluctant arousal at the abuse. "I don't see what that has to do with me," she finished saying, her voice shaky.

  "The way I see it, maybe I'll just stop it all now. If Beatrix comes and finds out I've helped keep Everett cursed, that's sure to count for something, right? I'll just hold you here and hide you and stop Everett from fucking your plump cunt. A good idea, don't you think?"

  "You can't," Danya said, trying to sound braver than she felt. "I'll stop you. I'll fight."

  "See, that's the thing, isn't it?" Taya grinned. "The dress dummies aren't the only magic here. I actually asked Beatrix to do something special for me. Usually it's for children, but the occasional uppity lady or fidgety gentleman needed it, too. Let's see if I..."

  Danya jerked free from the measuring tape and bolted for the door. She'd wanted an outfit to keep herself off of open display to Everett, but now it seemed silly. This woman, Taya, was far too volatile. Danya should have realized it, shouldn't have preemptively judged based on her experiences with Horatio, except it was too late for regrets. No, all she needed to do was leave here and run somewhere else. She could find clothes in a spare bedroom, perhaps. Most were tattered and moth-eaten in all likelihood, but there must be something.

  That was her plan, but it didn't work quite like she expected. She barely made it a few steps away before her feet refused to move. They clung to the ground, thick and heavy and feeling wooden. Then the rest of her body followed suit. Her knees locked into place, keeping her standing upright, and her hips froze so she couldn't bend forward or back. Her arms dropped limply to her sides, clattering against her body, while her neck swiveled and leaned slightly forward. Danya blinked, unmoving, unsure what had happened.

  "The idea is," Taya said, "that if people move too much, I can't get good measurements. Sometimes you just tell a person to stop moving, but it don't always work. Beatrix listened to my argument and offered a solution. Basically, if someone moves too much, I threaten to turn them into a mannequin. And if they keep moving, then I do it."

  Danya forced her gaze lower. Yes, it was true. Her body felt wooden and her limbs looked like they belonged on a ball-jointed doll. She could blink though, and a quick test proved she could open her mouth, too.

  "You can't do this," Danya said. "I'll scream."

  "Who are you going to scream to? Who knows where Everett is. Horatio's off doing errands, too. Oh, I'm sure he'll come back, but why shouldn't I just gag you, stuff you under some cloth, and be done with it?"

  Danya didn't know. She didn't understand this. What had she ever done to this woman. What had she...

  "I'm only playing with you," Taya said, laughing. She wandered in front of Danya and caressed her hand along the girl's new doll-like body. Danya felt it, through magic or whatnot, but she couldn't move to do anything about it. "I'm not going to hurt you. I really won't. Do you think I went too far? It's hard, you know? Trapped for a hundred years without companionship. I wasn't ever very companionable in the first place, but..."

  "Please, will you let me go?" Danya asked.

  "Horatio told me about what happened in the kitchen," Taya said.

  Danya paused, then nervously said, "What of it?"

  "I've always wanted to. To do that. Not to me, but to someone. I deal with stuffy women barging into my studio and demanding things of me, and do you know how tempted I was to just change them into mannequins with the magic Beatrix left here? Not just that, oh no. And I'll let you go, yes, but..."

  "But what?"

  "I don't care what you say, you can't change my mind. I don't care what Everett does, either. If he kills me, oh well. But I'm going to do it, and you can enjoy it or not. I'll enjoy it either way."

  Taya lifted Danya up and dragged her towards a waist-high stack of leather. She tossed her atop it and moved her so she was laying on her back. All Danya could do was watch her body doing as this woman wanted. Taya shifted Danya's legs into a lewd, spread display, then moved her wooden hands so they lay atop her breasts.

  "Are you comfortable?" Taya asked.

  "Does it matter?" Danya asked.

  "Well, I suppose not. Shall I explain this to you then, this fantasy of mine?" Taya offered her a toothy grin. "In my mind, it goes like this. A haughty young lady comes in demanding things of me, and I get so sick of her that I change her into a mannequin. And she screams, oh yes, except I don't care. What I do next is, I magic a few of the dress dummies, much like Horatio enchanted the rolling pin, and they fuck her while she's trapped there with no way of escape."

  "And you, of course, are her," Taya continued. "I have your measurements and the spell should wear off around the time I'm done fixing up a dress for you. I'll give it to you once I'm finished, but until then..."

  Taya waved her hand in the air and conjured forth a wooden dress dummy. The inanimate thing swaggered forward, almost as if it knew what she wanted of it and found great joy in its prospects. Taya held the measuring tape in front of it, near where its crotch would be if it had one, and measured a few inches, then more.

  "Eight?" she said, looking to Danya.

  Danya watched as the dress dummy grew a wooden penis to match the end of Taya's measurement: eight inches. She gulped and ogled the thing.

  "Thicker, shall we? And longer, I think. Do you suppose ten is alright? Hm."

  With expert measuring skills, Taya shifted the measurements of the magical cock. It still looked wooden like a rolling pin, but it was thick now and longer.

  "This isn't any fun, though," Taya said. She squeezed the cock in her hand and it changed. No longer as wooden, more pliant. The wooden cock bounced in front of the dress dummy like a real man's cock. The head at the end of the shaft shifted into a resemblance of the real thing, too.

  Danya gulped and stared at it, unsure what to make of this. Taya slapped a hand on Danya's crotch and toyed with her folds.

  "You're wet, dear," Taya said, laughing. "You don't have anything to be afraid of. I've done this myself, actually. It's strange and different. Exciting. You can't move, but your body will still mostly work like it's used to. That includes here—" The seamstress slipped a finger inside Danya and wiggled it around, then popped it out. "—and here." The woman grabbed Danya's breasts and squeezed them.

  While her body felt heavy and ungainly it only added to her sensation. When the woman touched her breasts, t
hey wobbled back and forth, slow, like chilled bowls of jelly. And, oh hell, when she'd slipped a finger inside of her...

  It felt like Danya's entire body was tense, already in the throes of climax. Tight, constricted muscles squeezing against the cock pounding inside her, milking it for all it was worth, except there was no cock. Just a finger, nothing more, and Danya wasn't even climaxing, but the feeling and sensation...

  "Just lay back and enjoy yourself and give me a show. I'll make you a dress that's more than worth it," Taya said. And with that she left, returning to her spinning wheel and studio corner.

  Danya followed her with her eyes, watching the woman stroll towards her work station and sit down on a stool. Taya picked up a spool of thread and pulled a needle from her cap, then set herself to the task at hand.

  And the dress dummy approached. Its painfully throbbing cock, harder than any cock had a right to be, bobbed up and down in front of it as it wobbled towards Danya's body.

  "Oh, before I forget."

  Taya was speaking, Danya realized, but all she could think about was the head of the cock now parting her labia and pushing into her.

  A bolt of cloth unraveled itself at Danya's side. It fluttered out and up, catching her eye, then a pair of scissors soared forth and snipped off pieces of the fabric. Two wide pieces, each with four snips on the end. The cloth fell to the ground, and the scissors along with them, but not for long. Quivering on the floor, snaking their way towards the dress dummy, the pieces of cloth climbed up the wooden stand and to the shoulders of the dummy, then attached themselves to the sides like arms. The snips formed fingers, which immediately grabbed Danya's wooden thighs and held them hard.

  Everything felt so strong and powerful. The tight feeling in her thighs contrasted heavily with the soft touch of the dummy's cloth hands. It held her firmly and pulled her towards it while wobbling forward at the same time, hastening the process of impaling her on its cock. Danya bit her lip, finding it difficult to think properly.

  The pulsing wooden cock trudged through the tunnel of her slit, forcing its way towards her deepest depths. While it looked and felt more like a real cock now, it was smooth to the touch like the polished dining hall tabletop downstairs. Changed into the shape of a doll, Danya couldn't move, couldn't squeeze against the intrusion inside her no matter how hard she wished for it. Except everything felt like a tight squeeze to her now, beyond her control, consistent and thrumming.

  As the dress dummy thrust into her, Danya moaned out her lust. Off to the side, sewing her dress, Taya watched, rapt. Danya felt a quick burst of shame and embarrassment, but not for long. The dummy pounded the rest of the way inside of her, filling her to the brim, and then slowly pulled out.

  Danya glanced down her body, looked at how she was being used as a fuck toy for this animated dummy. Curious, enchanted, she noticed her clit popping up, hard, like a marble. It looked so much more prominent and aroused than she could ever remember it having looked before. Taya must have noticed where Danya's gaze was, because no sooner than she thought it, one of the fabric arms shifted from Danya's thigh to her clit.

  The fluttering fingers flicked at her pleasure pearl like heavy feathers. The smooth cock continued to pull out of her arousal-slick folds. The tensing, the pressure; it was too much.

  Danya wanted to grab her breasts and scream and moan. She wanted to wrap her legs around the dummy's rear and pull it back inside of her and hold it there, to feel its cock dwelling deep between her thighs and inside her. She wanted it to cram itself hard into her, to grind the head of its polished cock against her smooth inner walls and use her.

  But she couldn't. Her hands lay on her breasts, but she couldn't move them. She felt them there, thick, holding her wobbling bosom, but there was no way for her to tweak her prominent nipples or put on a show for the dummy. Not that the thing needed it, but the idea excited her. She couldn't wrap her legs around the back of it, couldn't pull it further into her. She couldn't do much of anything.

  She could scream, though.

  She let out a loud moan as the thing pressed inside of her again. She wanted to moan more, again, except she forgot how. Her thoughts lay scattered in her mind, blocky and incoherent, distracted by the sensation of her tensing pussy squeezing the dummy's cock without her permission.

  She felt an orgasm building within her through the squeezing, but it couldn't shove itself to the fore. Pursing her lips, Danya tried to excite herself further with thoughts and ideas. She remembered Everett shoving her breasts into the table and taking her from behind, rutting with her in the dining hall like she was a bitch in heat when she first entered his mansion. The wood of the table had been smooth like her breasts.

  The dress dummy rolled her hard clit between its cloth fingers, joining in and helping coax her orgasm into existence. It didn't help, though. She felt it, clenching contractions wanting to spasm throughout her body, but the wood and magic refused to let them through. Her body clenched harder of its own accord, smashing pleasure against her resistant flesh over and over, but still nothing.

  The dress dummy picked up speed. While Danya desperately tried to achieve climax, the dummy slammed its cock into her over and over again. Each time it jostled her atop the pile of leather. Her immovable arms jumped and clattered against her chest, inadvertently rubbing against her nipples and making her pleasure all the more excruciating. The dummy's fingers slapped against her clit, waving back and forth like the merchant's shop sign outside her father's store on a windy day.

  One orgasm or five, maybe more, they built up inside of her and demanded she let them loose to wreak havoc upon her body, to transform her into a twitching mess of sex and flesh, but she couldn't. Her mind desired it, desired it so badly, but her body refused to accept this.

  She didn't know how long this went on. Hours, perhaps, or maybe just minutes. Each agonizingly pleasurable thrust from the dress dummy sent her into inane utterances and lusty moans. She closed her eyes and focused, concentrating deeply and attempting to overcome this block on her climax, but none of that worked.

  Danya heard the clicking sound of shoes walking across the floor towards her. She opened her eyes and tried to understand what was going on, but it was so very very difficult. Taya held the most beautiful dress Danya had ever seen, showing it off to its new owner.

  "What do you think?" Taya asked.

  Danya stared at it, mesmerized. In her pleasure heightened state, the dress looked extravagant and beautiful. It was as if the ecstasy in her body brought the dress to a higher state of beauty just by existing in close proximity to the sex-crazed person before it.

  The cloth was pale blue. The dress dummy's cock shoved all the way inside of her. Danya tried to reach a hand out for the dress and one of her fingers wiggled while remaining on her breasts.

  The dress had one shoulder strap, keeping the other shoulder bare. With glittering gems sewn into the decolletage. Danya squeezed hard against the cock inside of her, or she meant to. Everything clenched all the time now, but she felt a faint tremor, her body listening to her command and clutching against the wooden shaft ever so lightly.

  An enhanced bust, corset sewn tight so as to show off Danya's chest. Tight around the waist, too, then flaring out wider by the hips and leaving a silken trail flowing down to the floor.

  Her body cracked. That was the only way she could think to describe it. She heard a strange sound like shattering ice on a winter lake, and then more, further, until her body exploded into shards of pleasure.

  Regaining her previous form, fully human and able to control herself at will, she descended into the pits of passion. Her orgasm—or five, or more—split through her body, no longer walled off and separated from her like before. The dress dummy pounded into her over and over, needy, while Danya trembled in climax after climax upon its wooden rod.

  She raked her nails across her chest and squeezed her breasts roughly, reveling in the life in them. No longer wooden, now hers again, and she wanted to feel ev
ery part of them. Confused, curious, one hand jerked towards her clit and rubbed furiously. Too hard, possibly, except, no, not hard enough. Restrained and unable to touch herself before made everything so sensitive and wonderful now. She clenched and climaxed upon the dummy's cock and forced more and more pleasure through her bewildered body.

  She only stopped when she grew too tired to continue. Taya stood there, smiling, clearly enjoying the show. The wooden dummy had lost its liveliness some time ago, though Danya didn't know when. It stood before her, slumped, with its cock half sheathed inside of her, coated in her creamy juices.

  Danya felt wooden again now, but for a different reason. She could move, but she was too tired to move. She lay against the leather, silent.

  "I can see why Everett likes you," Taya said. "He is somewhat of a beast, it's true, but he's not a bad man by any means. I wonder if Beatrix will find it in herself to forgive him. I wonder if he's changed. Or if she has."

  Danya was too tired to theorize. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, following the cracks and lines with her eyes.

  "You can lay there for a bit," Taya said, draping the dress across Danya's chest. "I have a lot of other work to do, though. Rest up, then I'll help you dress and you're on your own."

  ...

  Beatrix waded through the clutter covering the floor of her house. She had the miniature rose now, with the virgin's blood extracted from that girl in Everett's guest home. What a show that was, too. She'd quite enjoyed watching the girl writhe in the air while held up and spun around by the vines sprouting from her century rose's stem. Trapped, helpless, and utterly at the whim of the plant. Though the girl did enjoy it, so there was that.

  Anyways, Beatrix had business to attend to. What should she do with her new reagent? Blood had many uses, and virgin's blood even more. She thought she should find a spell that specifically required deflowering a virgin, though perhaps she should settle for a more powerful version of a common blood spell?

  Possession, maybe? She could take control of the girl's body and use it to do her bidding. Perhaps simplicity was the easiest thing here. Grab a knife, seduce Everett into bed, then stab him in the heart. The idea held a certain amount of allure to the witch, but it seemed too common and trite.