Beauty and the Beast (Erotic Fairy Tales)

by Nicole Dreadful

  Contents

  Copyright

  Once Upon a Time...

  The Merchant and the Beast

  Beauty and the Beast

  A Wedding

  Exploration

  Transformation

  Consumation

  A Second Wedding

  A Note from the Author

  ..and one last thing!

  Beauty and the Beast

  An Adult Fairy Tale

  Nicole Dreadful

  Skookum Creek Publishing

  Copyright 2012.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover photo by Celia Chamizo.

  Cover design by Bonnie Loshbaugh.

  This story includes explicit sexual content

  and is not intended for readers under 18.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Once Upon a Time...

  There lived a rich merchant whose only misfortune had been the death of his wife, who left him alone with three daughters and two sons. To make up the loss of a mother, the merchant was always willing to let his children have everything they desired. His sons were well known in the gambling halls, while his daughters were always dressed in the latest fashions, even the youngest, who had hardly begun to develop the curves to fill out a dress.

  One day, however, the merchant's luck turned. His ships were lost at sea; fire destroyed his warehouses. A dusky call-girl turned up at the back door carrying a baby with the same dimples as his eldest son, Elliot. It cost to keep that quiet, and to pay his sons' gambling debts. One thing led to another and finally the merchant was forced to sell his remaining properties and move his family from town to the country.

  Several years passed and not a day went by when the children did not reminisce about their former life. Only the merchant's youngest child was truly happy. She remembered the silk and satin dresses her older sisters had dressed her in – for they had always treated her as their own plaything, laughing and calling her Beauty, instead of her own name – but those memories faded as she climbed trees, played with the cats in the hayloft, tended the little garden before the cottage, and learned to ride with her second brother, Daniel.

  One day word came that a few of the merchant's long overdue ships had limped into port, laden with cargo. The merchant made ready to meet them while his children thronged about him.

  "Father, bring me a new set of traveling clothes so I can return home in style," said Beauty's eldest sister, Mariela.

  "For me as well," the merchant's second daughter, Angeline, put in. "And make sure you visit the Hill Street milliner."

  His sons clamored for saddles, fine riding boots, and horses to go with them. Elliot wanted dueling pistols, for who knew what slanderous gossip about the family might be circulating?

  Only Beauty stayed quiet, rubbing the velvet nose of her father's horse. "What about you, Beauty," the merchant asked. "Is there anything you would like?"

  Beauty considered his question. She didn't have any use for the fine dresses her sisters wanted, for she had grown comfortable wearing her brothers' castoff clothing, but she could see she had to ask for something. She glanced around the little garden and pointed at the sagging white blossoms near the cottage door. "Bring me a red rose, Father," she said. "Then we'll have a pair."

  "Is that all?" the merchant asked.

  Elliot grabbed his sister's shoulder, pulling the baggy shirt tight against Beauty's body to reveal the curve of her breasts. "Bring her a dress, too, Father," he said. "She can't look like a boy when we go back to town, or we'll never find her a husband."

  "I'll bring something for everyone," the merchant promised as he turned his horse's head away from the cottage and down the lane. It might be an empty promise, but he loved his children. Let them have a little hope, who had lost so much.

  In the city, however, things went badly. After the costs of the long voyage had been paid, the cargo brought only a poor profit, and when word spread that the merchant had a little in his pocket, the old debtors appeared at his door, hands outstretched.

  After six months' trouble, he had no more money than when he started. It was winter, and as he rode out of town, he thought sadly of his children. He could not even fulfill Beauty's simple request for a rose, much less the more practical dress for her growing body. All three girls were of marriageable age, and there was no husband for any of them. He might send his sons to work for other merchants and gain their own fortunes and wives, yet he needed their help on the farm to keep their sisters fed and clothed.

  Lost in these morose thoughts, he hardly saw where his horse went. When he looked up, he did not recognize the road. It had begun to snow and the tracks behind him were quickly becoming as obscured as the way ahead. He dismounted and led his horse, following the line of the road while he could see it. The snow grew thicker and he began to despair.

  The merchant stopped to stamp his feet, trying to warm them. As he leaned into his horse's sturdy shoulder, he caught sight of a distant light in the cold gray gloom. Hoping for shelter from the storm, he turned his steps towards it and soon came to a tree-lined avenue. He could see the path clearly, for each snowflake that fell upon its stone slabs immediately vanished.

  At the end of the avenue, an ornate gate swung open as he approached. The merchant hailed loudly as he walked through the gates, but a whicker from his horse was the only answer. Inside, he found a large garden surrounding a manor. The air was warm and he could see oranges and lemons hanging in the trees.

  When no one appeared to greet him or take his horse, he walked through the gardens and found a stable. There were neither horses nor grooms, but he found grain and hay, and made the faithful beast comfortable before returning to the manor house.

  As with the gate, invisible hands opened the door before him. Inside, he walked through the candlelit salons, finding each one more elegant than the last, but without a single inhabitant. At last he came to a small study, where a roaring fire danced on the grate. "Surely the fire has been prepared for the master of the house," the merchant said to himself, "to welcome him when he returns from this snowstorm."

  As he spoke, one of the chairs moved to a place near the fire. The merchant looked around, but he could detect no living creature other than himself in the room. However, he was too weary to worry; he sank down into the chair and was soon asleep.

  When he woke, he was still alone. The pale morning light showed a small table near his chair, set with a generous spread of food. He ate his fill and walked out to the stable. He found that the saddle and tack he had left hanging were well cleaned and oiled, and the few small tears in his saddlebags had been neatly mended. Now he was certain there was magic around him, for he had never known human servants to be so thorough and thoughtful. "Thank you, my invisible friends," he said, bowing low to the empty air, "for the kindness you have shown to me and my horse."

  In the afternoon, he explored the house, finding the rooms as well-furnished as any he had seen. The curtains were all of velvet, the carpets were thick and soft, the paintings on the walls were tasteful depictions of well-known acts of bravery and love throughout history. At the end of one hallway, he came to a room decorated in white and blue. In the middle stood a large four-poster bed, hung with a delicate lace canopy. Long white tapers stood in silver and sapphire candlesticks and garlands of fresh flowers adorned the walls.

  The merchant stood in the doorway and remembered another bedchamber filled with flowers, more than twenty years ago. The way his young bride had laughed, nervous and yet somehow coquettish as he fumbled with the complicated fastenings of her dress. He might easily have tumbled her back onto the bed, lifting up her skirts as he'd done with girls
in haylofts and taverns, but he had wanted to see her. He had worked for the prestige to marry a wealthy man's beautiful daughter and now he would run his wondering hands along the whole of her.

  The laces defeated him; his hands trembled with desire and drink, and so he sat back to watch as she undressed herself, layer by layer. Each item removed revealed more of her creamy skin: a pale shoulder, the line of tendon behind her knee. He sat on his hands to keep from tearing the clothes from her body. His bride turned away as she let her shift fall--unnecessary modesty--and pulled the pins from her hair. A long tangle of red brown curls tickled the small of her back, but did not hide the curve of her hips, the firm, round bottom. "Turn around," he whispered, and she did, her hands straying now towards her breasts, now towards the soft, honey colored mound between her legs, caught between shyness and obedience to her new husband.

  Even the memory made him weak in the knees; he caught at the doorframe and looked around. There was no one to see, but he hesitated to make a mess on this fine bed. He returned to what he'd begun to think of as his room. The remains of the last meal had been cleared away, but there was a glass and a decanter of wine on the table now, and a soft linen napkin. He settled down in the chair and unbuckled his pants as he slipped back into the memory.

  He stared until she began to blush in earnest beneath his wandering gaze. It occurred to him that she was surely as ignorant of the shape of a man as he was of her body. His cock throbbed, eager to make her acquaintance, and he undressed, trying not to rush. Her hands had stopped their fluttering; now they rested on her stomach, below her round breasts, as she watched him through her long lashes. He felt he might blush himself, but he held her gaze as he removed his clothing. Perhaps her eyes widened as he untangled his stiff cock from his trousers, letting it jut out from the dark tangle of curly hair.

  She came to him when he was naked, and would have laid on the bed straight away, but he caught at her hands and held her in front of him. Her nipples were long; they grazed against his chest as they stood face to face. The touch was sweet fire, sending heat coursing through his body.

  "Ellen," he said, when he found his voice. He was about to tell her she was beautiful, that he would always be a good husband to her, when his hard cock grazed against the softness of her thigh and she jumped.

  "He can hardly wait, my soldier, to meet you," he said, and earned a shy smile from her. He put his hand down to stroke her thigh, the silken skin, and then to gently hold his cock, directing her gaze downward. "He's been standing at attention all night."

  Now she reached with one tentative hand to touch him. Her light fingers sparked the heat as easily as her nipples against his skin. He felt it radiating from his groin as she hesitantly wrapped her hand around the warm shaft. His wife--he rolled the new phrase around in his mind--touching his cock. A moan of pleasure escaped his lips and she pulled away, looking at him. Her lips parted, had she done him some wrong?

  His passion--no, he had the wisdom of years now to truly label it--his lust swept away his resolve to be gentle, to not frighten her, and he pushed her onto the bed. Her pert breasts pooled and flattened on her chest and he bent forward to suck on one distended nipple as he pressed her legs apart. She cried out as he pushed into the softness of her, as he sent his soldier into the field to claim her, to plant the pennant that would become Elliot.

  He slept, then, and dreamed of his wife. Eight children she had born him, though only six survived, and she had followed the eighth into the next world. His dreams turned to his children, and he woke with their names on his lips.

  He had been away from his family too long, the merchant thought. Today he would leave this place, wondrous though it might be. His horse would be well rested; they would return to the road and discover their way home. Thus resolved, he ate the breakfast which had appeared before him and prepared to depart.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Merchant and the Beast

  As he led his horse through the gardens he remembered Beauty's request. It was not difficult to find a rose bush with several scarlet blossoms amongst the trees and shrubberies of the lush grounds. Mindful of the journey ahead, he chose a small bud, as yet unopened, and used his knife to free it.

  As he tucked the blade back into his belt, there was a thundering rumble. His horse shied in fright, rearing and slashing at the air with his hooves. The merchant turned to soothe the animal and found himself face to maw with a most hideous Beast, snarling with rage.

  "I provided you with food and shelter," the Beast said in a terrible voice. "And you repay my kindness by stealing my flowers?"

  The merchant threw himself to the ground. "You have been more than generous, my lord, and I owe you a debt of my life," he said. "But when everything here was so freely available, how could I have guessed that such a small thing as a rosebud would be forbidden?"

  "You are right in one thing," said the Beast. "You owe me your life, and I could take it from you." He stretched out a huge paw, and unsheathed shining claws. The merchant whimpered a little, but then he remembered all the misfortunes that had befallen him, and he began to laugh.

  The Beast pulled back his paw and narrowed his yellow eyes. "Why do you laugh?"

  "Because my life has already ended," the merchant replied, sitting up. He began to tell the Beast of his luckless years. "Of all the things I have done for my children," he finished, "now it is the smallest request from my youngest daughter which proves my final undoing. Yet if you were a father, you would do no differently."

  "Perhaps I will forgive you," said the Beast, "if you will give me one of your daughters instead."

  "My daughters are all young and have their lives ahead of them. Better that I should die than one of them."

  The Beast laughed, ragged and harsh. "Did I say I would take her life? I prefer a live woman to a dead man. Bring me your youngest daughter, and she may have all the flowers she likes. But," and here the Beast leaned down so the merchant could feel the hot breath on his face, "she must come willingly or I do not want her."

  Now that his initial terror had passed, the merchant began to see the Beast more clearly. At first he had perceived only the wide yellow eyes, the taloned paws, the dark fur--but the creature stood on two legs. A brocade vest blended into the coarse hair, and a pair of leather breeches stretched tight at the waist covered, but left no doubt of, the Beast's maleness.

  "You would take one my daughters to wife?" the merchant asked. The image of the monster slavering over his daughter's body in lust sickened him more than the thought of the long fangs tearing hungrily into her flesh.

  "I have made you an offer to save your life," the Beast said shortly. "You may have a month to think it over. If you do not return in that time, be sure that I will seek you out." He turned and disappeared as suddenly as he had come, but the merchant felt in the prickle at the back of his neck that he was still watched, and he made haste to lead his nervous horse away.

  Beyond the gates, the snow lay crisp on the ground. He returned to the road and found that it was one he knew well, though he had never formerly noticed the side path which led to the Beast's manor. He made note of the milepost and rode hard until he reached his own doorstep.

  His children were glad to see him, for though they longed to return to their sumptuous life in town, they were not so spoiled that they did not love their father. With no gifts for them but Beauty's hard won rose, it was not long before the merchant found himself telling the tale of his journey.

  The news that the family's fortunes were not mended did not upset them half so much as he had expected. It had been three years since they left town, a long time to hold on to hope, however young and idealistic one might be. Seeing how well they took this first bad news, the merchant was emboldened to continue. When he described the consequences of plucking the rose, however, Mariela clucked in dismay and disapproval at Beauty, who burst into tears.

  "If that was the price of a rose," Daniel joked, "we should be thankful you didn't ask
Father to bring you a candlestick!" This comment did nothing to console his sister, who continued to sob.

  "Don't be a little goose," Mariela said, putting an arm around the girl.

  "What's done is done," said Angeline, sitting at Beauty's other side and smoothing her hair. Their combined caresses calmed her somewhat, and she subsided to the occasional sniffle.

  "Elliot, Daniel," the merchant said to his sons. "You kept watch over your sisters while I was gone, and you must continue to do so. I will write you letters of introduction, and you will make your own way in the world, as I did."

  "Father," Elliot said. "You can't mean to go back! We are three, and this Beast is only one. Let us wait, and if he truly comes for you, we will finish him." He made a few jabs in the air, recalling duels he had fought in town.

  But the merchant shook his head, thinking of the Beast's fearsome appearance and the magical powers he must possess. "I made a deal," he said, "and I have always held up my end of a bargain. Let me enjoy these last few weeks with you, before we part for evermore."

  At these sad words, Mariela and Angeline also began to weep, while their brothers paced the room.

  But Beauty lifted her head and wiped her tear-streaked face. "I will go to the Beast, Father," she said. "I caused the trouble by asking for the rose; it's only fair that I take the blame."

  In the days that followed, she repeated this argument to her father quite earnestly. Each time, the merchant shuddered at the thought of her in the power of the Beast. His downcast features, however, only made Beauty more determined that she should take his place, and the merchant could not bring himself to say aloud what he knew the Beast would want of her.

  He was certain that his youngest daughter could know nothing of the relations between men and women. Any romantic knowledge his daughters possessed would be meager, gleaned from the few novels of chivalrous love in his small library, and Beauty was far more often out of doors than reading. He had often felt the lack of a mother for his children; now he desperately wished his wife were here to explain to Beauty how things stood.