by Susan Kohler
She was learning to live with her rugged companion without angering him. She was fairly confident that the Beast would never really hurt her. About a week later, when she went with the Beast on a short hunting trip, she found out that she was wrong, painfully wrong.
Beauty was thrilled as she waited outside the stables for her mount to be saddled. Not only was she eager to ride again, for it had been years since she had been on a horse, but she was hoping to get a chance to see Tom and mayhap have a quick word with him. The Beast brought her a horse, a gentle but spirited bay mare, and helped her to mount. The other Tom, the man who was almost hung alongside her brother, and another man Beauty did not know brought out the dogs. They were off!
Although she didn’t get to see her brother, Beauty was still excited to be riding out with the Beast. It was the first time the Beast had ever taken her with him anywhere, even hunting. Beauty did not enjoy the hunting itself. She had never come to enjoy the sight of animals being chased down and slaughtered. She revelled in the beauty of the countryside and the feel of a horse beneath her, even knowing she would be sore from the unaccustomed hours of riding.
The Beast and a few of his soldiers were replenishing the castle’s supplies of meat. They loosed the dogs to run down the wild boars. They used short stout lances, easier to work with in the thick forest than their regular lances, to kill whatever boars the dogs ran down. They dressed down the day’s catch in the forest, salting some of the meat, drying some, and cooking the rest.
The Beast was angered by the signs of poachers he found in the forest. Standing over the carcass of a slaughtered deer, his temper raged.
“I’m going to find these poachers and hang them!” he bellowed. “That would teach the scum that poaching in these woods is the same as stealing from me.”
“It makes me wonder, M’lord,” Beauty said thoughtfully, eyeing the spoiled remains with distaste, “why would any of the villagers be willing to run the risk of poaching? How desperate must they be to be willing to face your wrath?”
“Do you seek to excuse them for poaching?” the Beast yelled at her. “Or do you attempt to persuade me to show them mercy for the crime?”
“Neither M’lord, I but wondered what led them to take such a risk.” Beauty met his eyes openly. “They must know what penalty you would put on the killing of your game.”
The Beast turned away from Beauty without answering her but he pondered her remarks for a long time. He knew full well that the villagers feared and even hated him. Her questions ate at him. Why would they take such a risk? The thought came to him of what risks he would be willing to take if it were his family that was starving. He said no more about it but the thought remained in his mind for several days.
The next day, disaster struck! As the small band of hunters was fording a swift but shallow river, one of the younger guards lost control of his horse and was thrown. The guard probably could have stood up in the shallow water but between his panic and the weight of his clothes, boots and sword, he could not get a purchase with his feet. He thrashed about in the water, panicked and unable to swim. The Beast leaped off his horse to rescue the lad and handed his heavy sword to the nearest person. It just happened to be Beauty.
Beauty’s horse was also spooked, panicked by the guard’s horse bumping into him and the shouting of the men. She struggled to keep her mount under control but her horse slipped on a wet rock and almost went down. As Beauty wrestled to remain seated and to help her horse regain his footing, the sword slipped from her grasp. She gave a startled cry as she saw it fall over a small waterfall and squarely into the one deep pool in the river.
The Beast was soaked and irritated as he carried the unconscious young guard to the shore. He struggled to revive the man but his efforts were to no avail. The Beast turned away, coldly ordering the other guards to bury the body. He was exceedingly angry and frustrated. His clothes were stuck to his body and his best leather boots were probably ruined. That was when he realized that Beauty had dropped his sword. It was the final straw. That was also when she found out that the Beast could and would indeed hurt her.
She found it out the hard way, bending over a hollow log in the forest, naked from the waist down with the Beast using his thick leather belt on her buttocks and legs without the least hint of mercy. It was the first time he’d ever hit her with anything but the palm of his hand and it hurt greatly.
He ignored her screams as he lashed at her red ass repeatedly; each swing of his strong arm causing a welt or a bruise. The whole of her bottom was covered with painful red stripes and purplish blotches.
Worst of all for Beauty, the Beast’s guards were well within earshot, and even as she writhed in pain she knew they heard and enjoyed every swish and crack of the belt, every sob and every scream.
Finally the Beast stopped and coldly ordered, “Stand up.”
He put his belt back on. It was over. The voice he commanded her with brooked no denial or disobedience. Beauty tried to comply but she was too stiff and sore, and much too shaken to her core. Her legs failed her and she sank to the ground, weeping openly.
“Cease that at once, woman!” he commanded, but without any real anger behind the words.
The Beast started to reach down to her then hesitated and sat stiffly on the hollow log. He pulled her onto his lap, ignoring her sore bottom as he cuddled her gently. She clung to him as she continued to cry. Her sobs seemed to last forever, but when her tears finally began to ease the Beast quickly shifted her position until she was face down over his knees.
Beauty panicked and struggled to right herself but to no avail. Holding her in place with one iron hand, he stroked her hot, flaming ass, gently touching the welts. He explored her moist femininity with his fingers before he withdrew his hand to spank her with lightly stinging, almost gentle spanks.
For long moments he held her like that, alternately stroking her hot bottom, fingering her moist core, and almost gently spanking her. Finally, he used his hands to bring her to the heights of ecstasy.
After she came, he held her shivering body until the shutters stopped. Then he coldly pushed her off his knees and ordered her to stand up and straighten her dress. Although she was shaking with both pleasure and pain, this time she did as he ordered without any further delay.
When she finally walked stiffly behind the Beast as he led her back to the camp, the men were staring at her and laughing. Crude remarks floated towards her on the cool night air. The Beast suddenly picked her up and carried her over to a small tent set a small pace apart from the men. He threw her face down onto a soft pallet of furs. He grasped her hips in his hands and pulled her roughly to her knees. Without any preliminaries or finesse he entered her, sodomizing her even as she cried anew. She gasped and even screamed several times at the unfamiliar pain.
She was still sobbing as he rolled away. “That hurt!”
“It’s just the first time, like the other virginity,” the Beast murmured. “It gets easier with time.”
“M’lord?” Beauty asked gently. “Why haven’t you done it that way before?”
“I prefer the usual way,” the Beast replied. “I usually only do it that way if the woman wants to prevent a pregnancy.”
“Then why tonight?” Beauty asked curiously.
“Because I was irritated with you and I felt like it,” the Beast told her sternly.
“I’m sorry, M’lord,” she sobbed, her hands gently grasping her own butt. “Truly, I didn’t mean to displease you.”
“Displease me?” The Beast was once again furious. “You dropped my favourite sword into the deepest part of the river and you think I’m displeased? I’m far past displeased, and if you don’t know that maybe I better take you back to the log and add to your welts.”
“If that’s your wish, M’lord, I await your pleasure,” Beauty said softly, still crying. “But I truly am sorry. I’ll swim out to get it tomorrow.”
“You can swim?” The Beast felt his anger fade.
> He was amazed since none of his men could swim. He was a poor swimmer himself, as the day’s disaster proved.
“Yes, M’lord,” Beauty sighed wearily, ignoring his surprise. “Shall I prepare myself for another whipping?”
“Nay, lass,” the Beast told her softly, “I think I have another use for you tonight.”
To her amazement, he got a moist cloth as he had on their first night together and washed her, soothing her tender parts. After he finished the task, he proceeded to spend an eternity loving her slowly and thoroughly with his hands and mouth, even turning her over to gently kiss her welts. He lightly nipped her round firm buttocks, then licked the injured spot. Finally he turned her onto her back and lowered his mouth to her soft tangle of moist curls. It was a long time before he entered her, and for once he moved slowly, almost leisurely inside her before picking up the pace. In spite of her welts and tenderness, for the first time she felt the full measure of a climax with him as they reached the peak together. One of the young foot soldiers sleeping nearby heard her scream her release as she reached her climax.
“God’s blood!” the young man exclaimed. “Isn’t he ever going to cease beating the poor girl?”
An older guardsman sleeping nearby laughed openly, “Lad, we need to find you a woman and quickly!”
“Did I whip you too hard?” the Beast asked as he held her gently before they slept. “I was angry and so frustrated by the death of the guard that I may have overreacted a bit.”
“It’s not my place to say, M’lord. Indeed, I am at your disposal,” Beauty replied calmly, but inside her heart leaped as she realized that for the first time ever the Beast had almost admitted he was wrong and had even come close to an apology. “Do with me as you please.”
“And if I decided to kill you or turn you over to one of my men for a plaything?” the Beast asked.
“It’s your decision, M’lord.” Beauty kept her eyes downcast, hiding her quick spark of temper from him. “I have no say in the matter.”
“How about a kiss instead?” the Beast whispered gruffly, bending down to her.
“If that is your wish, M’lord.” She smiled at him, a wide dazzling smile. “I but seek to obey you and please you.”
The Beast stopped before kissing her, his mouth almost touching her soft lips as he whispered softly, “I just love meekness in a woman, Beauty. It’s too bad your meekness is a sham. Did you think I was fooled?”
She reached up a slender arm and stroked his long, silky hair. “You’re no fool, M’lord, and I’d fight anyone who dared say so.”
The Beast laughed softly as he kissed her. Beauty met his kiss willingly, responding with a passion of her own. It was still rare that he kissed her. Then she pulled him down on top of her, ignoring the ache in her bottom, as she sank back onto the soft bed of furs. He didn’t press her back into the furs and enter her however; to her amazement he lowered his mouth to her breasts, nibbling them before he traced a line of kisses down her soft belly to the thatch or curls guarding her femininity.
For the only time since their first night together, he brought her to the heights of ecstasy with an intimate kiss that seemed to fill her very soul with sensuous joy.
This time, the young soldier merely pulled a blanket over his head and ignored her cries.
The Beast reached for her as her shivers ceased but she said softly, “Not this time, my fine lord.”
She pushed him gently onto his back and he went willingly. He let her do what she wanted. He could scarcely believe the depth of his emotion, his joy and his pride, as she returned his intimate kiss. Although she did whatever he asked, it was the first time she had ever initiated such an action. He soon found out what difference there was between compliance and enthusiastic participation. Before they slept, they made love again. This time she rode astride him, completely wanton in her passion.
The next morning they sent most of the guards back to the castle, keeping only two men with them. The two guards, experienced hunters, were stalking deer with their bows. The Beast had been craving fresh venison for his table. This day Beauty and the Beast did not hunt; instead they tarried by the river, resting and talking softly. For once, the Beast asked her opinion on several minor matters before he came to the one thing that had preyed upon his mind.
“Beauty, if you were me, what would you do about the poachers?” the Beast asked, lying beside her on the riverbank.
“I know not, M’lord, for ‘tis not an easy problem. The serfs have to have enough to eat but your game should be protected,” Beauty smiled as she stroked back a lock of hair from his face. “Not just for your use, but to ensure that game will always be plentiful in these woods. Some of the serfs, not all, but some are so lazy that they would rather poach than toil on their farms while some others are truly starving. I think they deserve different punishments, even though the crime is the same.”
“But there should be some punishments?” the Beast asked pointedly.
“Yes,” Beauty admitted against her will, “but the villagers should have some protection against starving and their awful poverty too.”
“I’ll think about it.” The Beast reluctantly stood up and pulled Beauty to her feet. “We had best return to the castle as these woods are not safe without a guard nearby.”
Back at the stables the Beast helped Beauty dismount, overlooking the presence of her brother Tom. She was thrilled to see her brother but afraid to let her emotions show. Not by word or gesture did she acknowledge his proximity or their relationship. The Beast ignored Tom too. In fact, he talked to Beauty about the poachers right in front of her brother.
Handing the reins of his charger to Tom he said, “I think I’ll start sending a small group of guards out to patrol the woods for poachers. Not with Gerrin, but mayhap I’ll put Gregory in charge. He needs more experience. I’ll tell him to go out every third day and order that he should bring all the poachers he catches back to me, still alive, to await my judgment.”
As they walked back to the castle Beauty whispered to the Beast, “M’lord, if you truly want to catch the poachers, you should not have let Tom hear the schedule for your patrols. He can warn the villagers. And why did you put Gregory in charge when Gerrin is so much more experienced and ruthless?”
“Because, my dear Beauty, Gerrin really is so much more ferocious,” the Beast grinned. “And I hope Tom does warn the villagers. Why do you think I said it in front of him? I’m not a fool.”
He whistled as he strode into the castle, leaving Beauty staring after him with her mouth agape.
Chapter Five
After the hunting trip many things changed between Beauty and the Beast. In spite of the harsh whipping he’d given her, Beauty began to relax even more and feel much more natural and comfortable around the Beast. She began to feel that she’d seen him at his worst, that he would never get angrier or hurt her worse than he had in the woods. Even then, as furious as he was with her, he had given her a few bruises but caused her no serious or permanent injury. She began to feel confident that he never would.
The sex between Beauty and the Beast also grew more intense and passionate, especially on Beauty’s part. Something during the long night following the whipping had finally unlocked the full range of her passion. Was it his hands, alternately lightly stoking and comforting her and slapping her gently before he used them to finger her femininity bringing her to the heights of ecstasy? Was it his manhood, large, firm and erect, causing her to scream with the sheer pleasure of his loving? Was it the unfamiliar and painful but somehow exciting feeling of him using her from behind? Was it his mouth nibbling her and the slight scratch of his stubble on her inner thighs? Or was it the time he took with her now, every loving act stretched out to its fullest extent? Could it even have been his acceptance, nay enjoyment, when she took the lead in lovemaking, closing her mouth gently over him or riding atop him? No matter the reason, a real passion grew between the pair.
But passion, as good as it was, was
still all there was between them. There was some trace of affection but still no real love had taken hold. The Beast was sometimes polite and usually kind to Beauty, but he still treated her like a valued servant or mayhap a favourite horse instead of a beloved woman.
For her part, Beauty still held something of herself back from the Beast. She rarely spoke up to him. She seldom argued or even ventured to give voice to an opinion. Her feelings on many things were kept to herself. She had more feelings for the Beast than he had for her however. She had even started to feel that her one true purpose in life was to stand by the side of this dangerous, difficult man and give him her support, if not her love. She continued to find more and more ways to help the Beast around the castle. She laboured long and hard to make the castle a refuge for the Beast, a place where his stress and responsibilities could be put aside for his relaxation and contentment.
She began to make rare little gestures of affection towards the Beast. They were comfortable little touches, with nothing planned or even passionate. She just began reaching for his hand when walking beside him, stroking his hair back when a lock fell onto his forehead, or touching his shoulder as she stood by his side.
She even began to feel comfortable being in the castle, especially in the master bedchamber. She gained a sense of belonging, of being home, that gradually replaced her feelings of being out of place, of being held against her will as a prisoner or a hostage. The servants, many of whom had shunned or ignored her at first, began to treat her as the lady of the castle, coming to her and asking for her advice and bringing the mundane domestic matters to her instead of the Beast.
The Beast changed also. He relaxed quite a bit and even came close to having a bawdy sense of humour. Slowly, he began to care about Beauty’s appearance. One day he went so far as to bring in several bolts of expensive cloth and a team of seamstresses who made Beauty a wardrobe full of gowns that were more colourful and of richer fabrics than the ones she already had. These were no meagre rags; they were the finest silks and satins, decorated with rows of embroidery or pearls and trimmed with the finest furs.
