He pulled at the dress of her skirt, bunching it up in his fingers. Inch by inch, up and up, he pulled her skirt away and revealed her calves, then her knees, the middle of her thigh, and further still. He lifted it up, despite her protests, until he had a clear view of her bare crotch. Everett stared at her slit, sniffing her arousal.
Why was she aroused? Dammit! She needed this to stop, needed him to understand, but her body refused to accept her wishes. His fingers tightened on the dress, nails pressing hard against the fabric. Everett wore nothing in terms of clothes, had no way to hide himself.
His cock slowly rose, twitching and growing and stretching. She stared downwards, ashamed, watching his erection rise.
"Please," she said, begging him. Begging him for what? "Don't rip the dress. Please don't. We need to talk."
Everett nodded. "I understand. We talk."
He understood! Yes, this was what she needed. He must understand, of course, but she understood how it might be difficult for him, too. Alone in the woods for all these years, seeking a mate, and it must have been a very hard life.
Thinking of how to explain the situation to him, Danya didn't realize exactly what he was up to. Everett's hands cupped her ass and lifted her off the floor. He stepped forward, pressing her back against the wall, holding her aloft. His cock bounced up, tapping against her slick folds. He lowered her onto his erection, quick and deliberately. Only when he was halfway into her did she realize what he was doing.
"No!" she said. "Everett, stop this. I mean it!"
"We talk," he said, continuing to lower her onto him. More, three quarters of the way, then entirely. "You tell me. We talk."
Danya shivered, too distracted by the pleasure to keep up her willful refusal of him. He pushed forward more, closing the gap between their bodies. The soft fur on his stomach tickled against her clit and caused her eyes to clamp shut as she bit her lower lip.
He lifted her off of him, then back down. "What is it?" he asked. "What is problem for Danya?"
"You don't—fuck!" She couldn't concentrate.
"I fuck," he said, laughing. "We fuck now."
He lifted her up and down his cock, using her for his needs. Baring his teeth in some display of dominance, he growled at her slightly. Her eyes shot open and she stared at him, wide-eyed.
"I want more," she said. "I don't just want..."
"More?" Everett asked. He held onto her ass firmly and thrust up into her while pulling her down onto his cock. Faster and harder now. More.
Danya trembled. The corset of her dress held her breasts in place under normal circumstances, but as it was they jumped and bounced, smacking against each other with every thrust from his cock. Everett's balls slapped against her ass, and his fur-covered abdomen caressed her clit. She grabbed his shoulders and let out a string of verbal nonsense.
"What Danya mean?" he asked, never stopping.
"Fucking! Dammit!" This was too much; he was too much. She felt herself losing control, felt her body betraying her further. "I don't want to be your toy!" she screamed before the idea eluded her. "I want to be something more!"
Her body thrashed against his and her legs kicked at his sides, frustrated and enraged. Everett ogled her, leering at her bouncing breasts. Leaning down and forward he licked her chin and her neck, scraping his rough tongue against her smooth flesh. He thrust into her harder now, barely lifting her up and off his cock before pulling her back onto it.
"I want more, too," he said. "I like Danya."
She came. Not as hard as before since she still felt weak from the abuse Taya put her through with the dress dummy, but still satisfyingly strong. Her inner walls clenched against Everett's rigid cock, begging him for his seed. She'd said words earlier, begged him to stop, but now her body was begging for him to fill her?
She didn't really want him to stop, but she wanted him to understand. She wanted him to...
Everett let out a shattering roar. The sound echoed through the empty hallways and down the stairs, then back up and returning to them in a hollow approximation of its initial glory. Back and forth, rattling Danya's senses, reverberating through her ears. Losing herself to the harsh overload of physical and aural sensation, she bit her lip so hard that it started to bleed.
Just a little bit, a small drop of blood. Everett sniffed it, sensed it. He stared at her and kissed her, reveling in the tangy taste of iron and life essence on her lips. She kissed him back, desired him. She had never felt like he really wanted her before, loved her, but now she did. Was it her blood feeding his primal lust, or was there more to it, too?
She didn't care, refused to worry. Everett slammed hard into her and held himself there. Danya squirmed against his cock. She felt the telltale signs of his impending climax as his shaft surged with strength and flexed against her body's convulsions. His seed streamed up and into her, filling her, then spilling out slowly.
Her dress. It was ruined. She'd worn it for less than ten minutes and now it was ruined.
Except, no, Everett held her skirt in his hands, bunched up still and above her waist. Yes, he held her ass in his hands, too, pulling her hard against his cock as he emptied his creamy load inside her, but he was mindful of her dress.
As he held her there, both of them coming down from their climax, Danya saw something out of the corner of her eye. A ruddy skinned figure walked down the hallway towards them. He wore a dark feathered cape, a blindfold, tattered cloth pants and nothing else. His unseeing gaze met her own, harsh and unforgiving.
"Everett," she said, barely able to speak. Chill sweat brought goosebumps to her flesh and she shivered in his arms. "Everett, look. Someone's there."
The beast-cursed man turned to where she was looking and saw the ominous figure approaching. That wasn't a cape, she realized. He had wings. The dark-winged man took one more step before he disappeared entirely.
Or, he didn't disappear, but he ran. The demonic figure dashed down the hallway faster than Danya could follow with her eyes. She saw him when he arrived, though. He stood right behind Everett, arms upraised, hands grasped into a double fist, ready to smash her beast-cursed lover's head.
Danya screamed. Everett's cock tensed inside of her, pressing against her, but then it was gone. He threw her to the side, away from him, then bolted in the other direction. The winged man's pounding assault slammed into the wall, sending forth shattered bits of wood and plaster.
"Danya!" Everett hollered. "Run!"
Danya ran. Her fingers pulled at the carpet beneath her and she scrambled on hands and knees away from the Demon and the Beast. Finally managing to catch her footing, barely capable of standing, she staggered away from the pair. Briefly glancing over her shoulder, she saw Everett grappling with the monster. The winged abomination reared back his head, then crashed forward, butting his forehead against Everett's. Blood seeped from a splitting wound in her lover's brow.
Danya screamed, cried, grabbed at the wall. Her feet felt non-existent as she stumbled and ran away. She fell, picked herself up, and hobbled towards the staircase. Downstairs, to Horatio, to...
Who was going to help her? Who was going to help Everett? What was going on? What was happening?
Danya panicked and reached for the banister of the staircase, but she reached too far. With unsure footing and her wits burnt and gone, she flipped up and over the railing. Down, she tumbled, through the center of the spiral staircase. One leg smacked against the polished wood of the banister as she fell, sending her spinning.
This was it. All of it. Everything. Finished in the blink of an eye. Just like that.
...
Alena heard the scream as she ran through the outer mansion grounds in search of Everett. He must be inside, maybe with Danya. That ruined her plans, but she could adjust them.
And another scream. Her plans could wait. Who was that screaming? It sounded like her sister, except why? What was going on?
Ignoring the seething arousal spreading through her body, feeling it worsen as she sprinted and
her thighs rubbed against one another, she headed for the front door of the mansion. Darkness settled, only the barest glimpse of light remaining from the receding sunset. The mansion windows lit up with lanternlight, casting an eerie glow upon the outdoor paths.
Alena dashed through the garden and towards the trees outside the dining hall windows. She spared a quick glance at the spot where Everett had first claimed her virginity. The grass lay slightly matted, showing a scant imprint of her and Everett's coupling, but it would look fine by the time morning came.
Alena hurried, bare feet stomping against the grass, her thighs burning with exertion and a need for pleasure. She wanted to wrap her legs around Everett's waist and hold him so his cock dug deep into her, and...
Another scream, quick and fading. This one different. Something had happened to Danya and she'd stopped screaming halfway through it. Alena gained a burst of speed, adrenaline spiking through her body. She dashed to the huge front doors of the mansion and pulled hard on the heavy handles.
The doors opened slowly, refusing to hurry for her. The hinges creaked and groaned and cried out.
Alena rushed inside once she'd opened the doors enough to squeeze through. She didn't bother closing them, merely left them open. Something horrible was happening and she didn't have time for proper etiquette.
...
Beatrix arrived at the outside gates to Everett's home. They were magic, she knew. In fact, she'd enchanted them herself. Manipulating the spell, she forced the gates to open for her and her horse. The magic lock clicked, then the gates began to bend outwards.
She heard the faintest hint of a scream from inside the mansion as she rode the horse at a canter down the hard-packed path to the front doors. From far off, she spotted a naked woman opening the doors and slipping through. The woman wore a bright red rose behind her ear, treating it like a casual accessory or some piece of cheap jewelry.
Beatrix pushed the horse into a gallop. The animal bolted forth, heading straight for the door.
She would get her rose back.
...
At the foot of the stairs, resting on a pedestal, was an ornate candelabra. By magic, it lit up when the light grew sparse outside. It had five candles in it, and the wick on each caught flame one by one. First the left, then the next, the middle, another, and the final one on the right.
The candelabra also contained another light. As soon as Everett came inside Danya, the hidden light trapped within the candelabra sputtered forth. It grappled with its confines and shimmied up and out of the center candle, finding freedom in the open air. The wisp of light sparkled, then grew, shining bright, until it took the form of a young man.
The young man had just enough time to brush down his pants and fix his finely sewn shirt before he heard the scream. Looking up, he saw her. The screaming woman crashed into the banister, then fell over it. He ran forward just in time to catch her before she thudded against the ground.
Snarls and roars sounded from upstairs. Not a great place to be, he decided. Hefting the woman over his shoulder, he hurried away from the rough noises happening on the second floor.
Well, this wasn't his idea of a good re-start to life, but he'd take it. Whatever was going on upstairs could stay upstairs for all he cared. Why bother with that when he had some comely lass in his arms? And, yes, she was unconscious at the moment, but did it matter? His hand crept under her dress and up her thigh towards her rear and her crotch. He fully intended on going further, toying with her femine charms, but then he felt the heavy goo leaking from her folds and down her thigh.
He sighed. "Really, now? Really?"
Maybe he'd have his way with her, anyways. She did owe him, afterall. Otherwise she'd be dead. Right?
Where to, where to? Ah ha!
The wine cellar.
...
Pinem'e sensed the witch who summoned him standing outside the mansion in the woods. He turned his head towards her, curious. He could not see her, but he knew she was there.
The man she hated punched the fallen angel in the jaw. Pinem'e glared, angry. Red smoke trailed from his nostrils.
When he turned to finish the man, to end him and remove him from this mortal coil, the man was gone.
Pinem'e refused to acknowledge this. He gathered his senses and prepared to hunt.
Bound by the Beast
Danya awoke to the sickly sweet and acrid smell of pungent breath mixed with alcohol. Her vision was blurry and her body felt uncertain and unsure, like some newborn foal, but she forced herself to remember and to recover. At least she tried to do these things as best she could, though her mind barely wanted to cooperate.
"Great," a man's voice said to her, slurred. "I was tired of drinking alone. Let's get you drunk, too, so we can get to fucking."
Danya blinked once, then again, and finally she could see straight. Sitting across from her and leaning against a wine rack was a rugged, somewhat handsome looking man. He looked to be about her age, maybe a little older. To be honest, he somewhat reminded her of Michael in a way, though she didn't know exactly how. His manner? Yes, maybe, or maybe it was just the fact that he was drunk. Michael loved being an idiot and drinking, so they both had that in common at least.
"Where am I?" she asked him.
"Where's look like it?" he asked, his sentence as garbled as his voice. "The wine cellar. Duh."
Everett hadn't brought her to this room in particular, but she remembered how he went to fetch a bottle of wine after she first arrived. This must have been where he'd gotten it from. And how old were these wines, anyways? If the rumors were true, Everett had been beast-cursed almost a century ago. They were either very good, or very bad wines by now according to that logic.
From the sloshed look of the man across from her, potentially they were the former.
"I'm Peter, by the by," the man said. "I saved you, you know? You were a'right falling from the stairs, but I went up and caught you. You owe me your life, that you do."
He couldn't be so bad then, right? Danya smiled. "Thank you, Peter. I'm Danya."
"Fuck if I care what your name is. When are you gonna give me my reward? I thought about fucking you while you were sleeping, but where's the fun in that? Boring, that's what that is."
"I..." She didn't know what to say to that. "I don't think that we should? I appreciate your help, but..."
Everett! Besides the fact that she wanted to be with Everett, she remembered exactly why she'd fallen from the second floor in the first place. Some hulk of a man with tatters for clothes and a blindfold covering his eyes had accosted them outside of the seamstress's room. Everett fought him, and Danya ran, but now what? Where was the wine cellar compared to the stairs and the second floor? And where was Everett? Was he alive, or...?
"You're probably fucking the Master, huh?" Peter asked. "Makes sense. That's why I'm back, I reckon. Good deal, really. It'll be much better once we start doing the rootsie-tootsie, though. Then you can go back to whatever the hell you want to do. What do I care?"
He was more than a bit drunk, of that she was certain. Peter wobbled side to side, sloshing his wine bottle drink to and fro. A splash of it cascaded up out of the bottle and landed on his thigh, leaving a trail of red wine on his brown pants. It looked almost like a blood stain in the dim light of the wine cellar, which reminded Danya of Everett and the demon fighting. Not good thoughts, no.
Peter plunked his wine bottle off to the side, then shakily rose from the floor. Standing up and looming over her, he grinned. Leering at her, watching her, he shambled forward.
Danya didn't know what to do. What did anyone do in circumstances like this? Peter was inebriated, but he was her savior, too. She wanted to thank him, but not in the way that he wanted; did she have a choice, though? She didn't even know where she was or how to get out of here, and before she could think of anything more, he was upon her.
Stumbling, he fell atop her, pinning her to the ground. Drunken lips kissed across her cheek and throat and he
grabbed for her breast. She still wore the beautiful pale blue dress that Taya custom-fitted for her. Peter wrenched at the bodice of it, pulling the fabric down to reveal her bare breasts, then he slobbered his way from her collarbone to her nipple.
Danya froze. This was more than out of the ordinary. She'd had sex with men before, for favors or for fun, but she'd always been the one to offer first; or at least she had a choice in the matter in some regards. She didn't need to do it, not necessarily, but she benefited from it. This, though, it was different. Peter saved her, and for what? Because he wanted to fuck her, of course. She didn't even know him!
He snaked a hand beneath her skirt and drove it between her thighs. His fingers pulled and pinched at her labia and she twisted and squirmed, trying to get away from him.
"Peter," she said, urgent. "Peter, we can't. I'm Everett's. We're a couple, somewhat. Peter. Peter, we can't."
"Is that who you were fucking before I found you?" he asked, digging two fingers into her slit. "I'm not all that fond of the whole sloopy seconds or whatever the hell they call it, but makes no matter right now. Might be good for lubrication, am I right?"
He pushed his fingers deeper inside of her., using Everett's remaining seed to further his cause. Danya bit her bottom lip, ashamed and embarrassed. She didn't want to do this, didn't understand any of it, and yet for some reason that spurred her body's arousal onwards. The idea of this man using Everett's cum as slippery grease in order to fuck her better was both sexually intoxicating and morbidly horrifying all at once.
A crashing footstep thudded against the ceiling. Danya glanced up, frightened. The ceiling was made from the wooden floorboards of whatever room lay above them, with faint slits between each slat of wood and streams of light shimmering into the cellars. Through a knothole in one of the floorboards, Danya recognized the ruddy-hued skin of the monster that had attacked Everett.
Oh gods, they were going to die, weren't they?
Danya leaned over to whisper to Peter. "We need to be quiet. We're in danger."
Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (An Adult Fairy Tale Novel) Page 13
