Something tugged at her heart. But she unlashed André’s reins, jumped atop him, and sent him galloping back into the forest.
Tears stung in the corners of Beauty’s eyes as she rode, and she told herself they were tears of relief. She was free. She would never need to see him again.
And she cried.
Suddenly, André skidded to a stop. He snorted, backing up, frightened.
Oh no. Not again.
She heard the voices before she saw them - other riders in the forest, a group of men, approaching her slowly. Beauty’s heart tightened. Something about their bearing told her that their intentions were not good.
One of the men stopped his horse just a few feet away from her, holding his lantern high. The others gathered around, slowly blocking her in.
“M’lady,” said the leader. “What’s a lovely girl like yourself doing out in the woods alone, so late at night? Don’t you know the dangers?”
“I’m not afraid,” said Beauty.
“All the same,” the leader went on. “Perhaps we ought to escort you. Surely, you could use the protection.”
“I’ll be just fine on my own. Thank you.” Beauty fought to keep her voice steady.
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” He grinned, fiercely. “Of course, we’ll require a bit of a reward. But that won’t be a problem. Will it, love?”
He came closer. André snorted and stepped back, beginning to panic and step in a circle when he realized there was nowhere to go.
“Come on, darling,” said the man. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”
And with that, Beauty let out the longest, loudest shriek that she could find in her lungs.
The leader of the group jumped off his horse, running to Beauty and grabbing her leg. He ripped her off of André’s back, and one of others dismounted and ran to grab André’s reins and restrain him. He bucked wildly, trying in vain to stomp the leader with his hooves.
“You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life, you worthless quim,” the leader snarled, clamping his hand over Beauty’s mouth. She struggled wildly as he shoved her down into the dirt, holding her down by her neck as he knelt over her.
Out of the darkness, there was a great crashing noise as if a large animal were running through the underbrush. Beauty’s heart leapt. Was it too much to hope that the beast had heard her?
At first he was unrecognizable, just a dark blur launching itself at the leader of the bandits. But then Beauty heard his growl and knew it was her beast - all claws and teeth, tearing at them until all they could do was limp away.
The beast’s chest was still heaving with exertion when he rushed to her side.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, looking up into his bright, clear, and somehow still-so-human eyes. He was worried. He actually cared. Even though he’d let her go, without the expectation of ever seeing her again, he wanted her to be safe.
How could she deny him his last chance to be human again?
“How long do you have?” she whispered. “To break the curse?”
The beast’s face was unreadable. “Not long,” he said. “But there’s still time.”
“Then let’s not waste any more of it.”
The beast was frozen for a moment, disbelieving. Then he reached down and lifted her gently, carrying her bridal- style through the trees. André followed behind, snorting nervously.
The beast carried her all the way back to the castle, through the gate, through the massive doors and up the grand staircase. He laid her out on the bed in her room, where the fire was roaring, as if he’d been expecting her to come back.
The beast leaned down and nuzzled her breasts through the fabric of her dress, until she shivered and grabbed the fur on the sides of his head. He plucked hesitantly at the laces of her dress, his claws ill-equipped to unlace them properly. But when she sighed and arched encouragingly up towards him, he growled softly and ripped it open, just like in her dream.
As her dress fell away, she stretched out on the bed like a virgin sacrifice, feeling reckless and wanton. Her feelings for this beast didn’t make sense, and she didn’t want them to - she just wanted to feel him, wanted him to plant his seed inside of her. She pulled herself upright and reached out towards his hardening member, wanting to feel it twitch and grow in her hand. She could hardly get her fist around it, but she tried, relishing the soft noises he made as she stroked it clumsily. It was hot and stiff, and the head of it swelled a little as she watched.
On impulse, she leaned forward and lapped at it with her tongue, as he had done to her. He let out a shaky groan. He tasted musky, earthy, like something just picked out of the garden. Below his rod, a large sac hung low and heavy, like a prize stallion. Beauty reached down and cupped one of his balls in her hand, as well as she could, squeezing ever so gently. His claws flexed.
“Lie down,” he rumbled, and Beauty obeyed, collapsing back onto the mattress. He took hold of her legs, one in each hand, pushing them upwards so that her knees were slightly bent and her sex was completely exposed and open to him.
“This will hurt,” he said.
Beauty nodded and closed her eyes.
She almost screamed at the sudden burst of pain, as something inside of her tore. But it was over in a moment, replaced by the incredible feeling of fullness that came with having his massive manhood deep inside of her. His thrusts were so slow, so gentle, as her virgin body stretched to accommodate him. Beauty hadn’t expected a coupling with a monster to be like this, but he was treating her like a priceless treasure.
For a while.
As she began to acclimate, growing accustomed to the feel of him, he could see the tension melt from her face, her body, and he began to let his control slip. He thrust into her harder, faster, hitting a place so deep inside of her that she felt as if she might shatter into pieces. The pleasure was so different, so much more intense, than the caresses of his tongue had been. She realized that she was moaning with every breath.
He was growling now, and she swore she could feel him growing longer and harder inside of her. She writhed and squirmed underneath him, her hips jerking up to meet his movements, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through her core. She felt it building, from her toes to the roots of her hair. Her whole body was going numb except for the place where they were connected.
It hit her suddenly - the tension grew unbearable, and then it broke, leaving her moaning and shuddering with pleasure. The beast managed a few more uneven thrusts before he came to a stop, roaring, his claws digging into the bedclothes as Beauty felt the head of his manhood swelling and swelling inside of her. Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly be stretched any more, it stopped, and she felt a powerful surge of his seed, then another, and another. It pooled inside of her, filling her completely, the swollen head of his sex holding every drop inside of her.
They remained like that, interlocked, for a long while. Beauty felt strangely content. After a time she felt him beginning to soften, and then finally he slipped out of her, followed by a pool of his seed spilling out onto the bed.
“How will you know if it worked?” Beauty asked, softly.
The beast stood, taking in a deep breath through his nostrils. “I suppose I’ll -”
And with that, he was knocked off of his feet by some invisible force. Beauty bolted out of bed, running to his side and leaning over him where he lay, convulsing on the floor. His eyes had glazed over and he was shaking like a leaf. As she watched, he began to change. Minutely at first, and then all at once - the fur - the tail - the ears, the face, his whole body - transforming from that of a beast into that of a man.
When the change was done, she gasped, reaching out to touch him hesitantly. He stirred and groaned softly.
Other than the long white scar on his side, the same he had shown her by the gate, the only sign that he was the same was his long, dark hair.
And - she realized as he opened them - his eyes.
>
He sat up slowly, looking dazed. The first thing he looked at was his hands. He flexed his fingers experimentally, then looked up at Beauty with a dazzling smile on his face.
He was so handsome. Beauty felt herself blush.
“Master! Master!” The old woman’s voice came from far down the hall. Beauty hastily picked up her ruined dress and wrapped it around herself, tossing a sheet over to her lover to cover himself as well, moments before the nursemaid ran into the room.
And she was an old woman no longer - plump and rosy-cheeked, smiling, light on her feet for the first time in so many years. She came to a dead stop when she saw their disheveled state, and backed out of the room slowly, averting her eyes to the floor.
“My apologies, sir,” she said. “I forgot myself.”
“It’s no matter,” said the man who was once a beast. “I think such a thing can be forgiven on an occasion like this.”
The nursemaid beamed, retreating back down the hallway.
“She’ll be so happy,” he said, quiet and thoughtful. “Now that there’s to be a baby in the house again.”
Beauty smiled, resting a hand on her stomach. Before long, it would be swelling with child, her body growing and becoming a vessel for the baby. But for now there was just her, and this man, and whatever life they might make for themselves together, raising the new life they had created.
He looked at her suddenly, wonderingly, as if he were realizing for the first time what she’d done for him.
“Thank you,” he said. “I…how can I ever repay you?”
Beauty smiled.
“I’ll have to think on that,” she said.
And Beauty did.
Breeding with the Beast 2: Mate to the Monsters
Most of the time, Beauty didn’t even think about how strange it all was.
Her love story began with being kidnapped in the woods by a monstrous creature, who eventually proved to be a prince under the influence of a strange curse. The only way to break it was to give over the use of her womb – to allow him to impregnate her, fearsome though he was, for then, and only then, could he turn into human again.
Beauty had refused, of course. But after he set her free and then saved her from bandits in the forest as she tried to make her way home, Beauty gave in to her increasingly wanton feelings for the beast.
And so it was that Beauty broke the curse.
There was something to be said for having a lover who owed her an eternal debt of gratitude. In those first few weeks living in the castle, she wanted for nothing, never needing to lift a finger. He didn’t want her to go riding – he barely wanted to let her out of bed – but she convinced him anyway, laughing at his nervous hesitation. He’d turned into a worried expectant father already.
No, it wasn’t an ordinary love story. That was certain. But Beauty wouldn’t have rewritten it any other way.
Except, perhaps, for one thing.
The prince hadn’t touched her since the first time they made love.
Beauty didn’t really mind at first, but it was starting to nag at her more and more. A virgin when he’d taken her, she still hadn’t been with a man. Not really. She had no idea what he’d feel like, what he’d look like, how he’d make her feel, as a man rather than a monster. And she didn’t like that one bit.
She slept alone, in the same bedroom where he’d deflowered her, watching the embers burning low in her fireplace each night and thinking about what might happen if she walked the long hallway down to his chamber and climbed into his bed. Would he be able to resist her? Or would she feel him growing hard as she straddled his hips, pressing her heat down on him until he couldn’t resist her any longer?
Beauty touched herself when she thought of this, feeling herself grow hot and wet and swollen under her own fingers, until pleasure coursed through her veins and she had to choke back her moans. And when she imagined the prince taking her again, he was always, always, in the form of a beast.
It was two months after Beauty moved into the castle that the prince went on his first hunt. He was loathe to leave her alone, but his beloved nursemaid, Florence, promised to take good care of her. And she did – but not in the way that the prince intended, to be sure. As soon as he was gone, Beauty was allowed to be up and about as much as she pleased, to tend to the gardens and ride her horse without a single complaint or admonition. It was glorious.
The prince was to return in a fortnight, but he did not arrive when he’d promised – nor the next day, nor the next. Florence kept reassuring her that this was perfectly normal, that he must have been delayed and would return soon – but with each passing day, her smile grew more strained. Beauty lay awake in bed most nights, sometimes drifting in and out of a fitful sleep. Her stomach was beginning to grow. She felt as if it were her fault, somehow; the relief she’d felt at his being away was somehow preventing him from coming home safely.
Then, one night, a full seven days after he was to return, she was jolted out of sleep by a long, unearthly howl.
She sat bolt upright in bed, listening to it, her heart hammering inside her chest. She knew that sound. But it couldn’t be.
Throwing on her dressing-gown, Beauty ran down the long stone staircase, bursting out of the front door and raced barefoot through the garden. When she was some distance away from the castle, she stopped and looked up.
The outline of his shape, sitting on top of the one of the parapets, was unmistakable.
Her beast had come back to her.
But why? How? Beauty stared, mouth agape, as the beast turned and leapt down to the side of the castle, with the agility of a cat. As he hit the ground and began to run the other way, she shouted after him.
“WAIT!”
He slid to a stop.
Beauty ran to him, where he stood, hunched over on all fours, body heaving with each breath. He was exactly as she remembered him in this form – massive, sinewy, and covered in thick brown fur.
“What’s happened to you?” she whispered, as she drew close.
The beast’s voice was very quiet.
“She found me,” he said. “After all these years, she found me.”
Beauty swallowed a lump in her throat. “The witch?”
The beast nodded his huge, shaggy head.
“She was enraged,” he said. “The terms of the curse were meant only to torment me. She never thought I would be able to break it. There will be no turning back. Not this time.”
Beauty drew closer, hesitantly laying her hand on his shoulder. His skin shuddered under her touch.
“There must be a way,” she said. “There is always a way.”
Finally, the beast turned and looked at her. There was an unfathomable sadness in his eyes, a despair that she couldn’t even begin to understand.
“This isn’t a fairy story,” he said. “There is no happy ending for me.”
“No!” said Beauty forcefully. The beast flinched. “I won’t have it. We can’t give up. I shall find the witch, and I shall strike a bargain with her. Everyone has a price, and I’m certain she is no different.”
“You know nothing of the witch,” said the beast, darkly. “The only currency she understands is cruelty. She loves nothing more than inflicting pain.”
“We shall see about that,” said Beauty. She smiled at him, her chin held high. “I shall find her, and I shall prevail upon her to break the curse. I begin my journey at dawn. You may come with me if you wish.”
The beast let out a snort of laughter.
“What?” said Beauty.
“You’ll do no such thing,” he growled, softly. “I forbid it.”
A fire flashed in Beauty’s eyes. “And how will you prevent it, sir? Will you hold me captive again, as you once did?”
The beast bowed his head, defeated.
“Please,” he said. “For your sake. For the sake of our child.”
“I am doing this for your sake,” she said. “I am doing this for the sake of our child. Can you not see t
hat?”
The beast was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he spoke again.
“You have made enough sacrifices for me,” he said.
Beauty smiled.
“I will decide when it is enough.”
-
They left at dawn, just as Beauty had promised. She cantered along gently on André’s back, the beast loping beside them, glowering in disapproval but afraid to let her go alone.
The witch’s lair was said to be far west of where they were, so they cut their way through the forest, their backs to the rising sun, until it sank below their vision and grew dark. The trees were still thick, but growing sparser.
“Is it safe to stop here?” Beauty asked, pulling dried meat and water skins out of the bags on André’s sides.
“Perfectly,” said the beast. “I am the only monster in these woods.”
It was beginning to grow cold, and Beauty curled up against the beast, burying her hands in his fur, listening to his heartbeat. With him back in this form, it was exceedingly difficult not to think of their first night together; of the way his tongue felt, how he’d brought her to a height of pleasure beyond anything she’d ever imagined. And later, how he let her go. And still later, how she came back to him of her own accord and let him fill her with his seed, his stiff rod throbbing and pulsing inside of her.
Beauty licked her lips. Now was no time to be thinking about such things; if he wouldn’t touch her as a human while she carried his child, he certainly wouldn’t touch her like this. No matter how badly she wanted it.
When the sun rose again, they set on to the next leg of their journey, which would take them across the plains and into a deeper, thicker woods just before the mountain pass. The beast seemed to know it, but Beauty had never travelled so far before. For the first time since resolving to do this, she felt afraid.
But she didn’t let it show, urging André on faster, into the deep, dark forest that was somehow still forbidding, even in the daylight.
It was eerily quiet inside, under the canopy of the trees. The beast was on the alert, his head low to the ground, swiveling back and forth, watching and listening and smelling. Did he know something about this forest that Beauty had yet to discover, or was it merely the atmosphere?
Shifters, Beasts, and Monsters Page 50
