This time he didn't stop.
Her body rocked against him and the table, caught between the two. He kicked at her legs and spread them apart so he had a better vantage point for shoving his cock into her. When next she went to stab at the ham and rip it into shreds with the knife, Everett put one foot onto the chair and positioned himself so that the head of his cock drove into her at a new angle. He entered her to the hilt, his thick, throbbing shaft grazing against a new, more pleasurable point inside her. She closed her eyes, wanting to scream aloud, but incoherent thoughts refused to put action to her desires.
When he pulled out of her and she opened her eyes, she noticed she'd stabbed the table instead of the meat. The prongs of her fork poked through the fabric of the tablecloth and dug into the wood of the tabletop.
The beast thrust into her, crushing her body against the table. Her breasts mashed against the plate and onto the ham, becoming covered in glaze and juice. She wrenched the fork loose and managed to stab it into a part of the ham before Everett pounded into her again. And then she cut halfway through the meat. Then fully. Slammed the food into her mouth right before he slammed into her again, and...
No food. No more. Danya grabbed the edge of the plate while Everett fucked her from behind. She flung the annoying thing at the wall, meal and all, and it shattered into a million little pieces. Unperturbed, Everett didn't stop. He fucked her; wild and reckless, thorough and complete.
She shrieked, pushing back against him, wanting more, more. His fur-covered body scratched against her ass and the backs of her thighs, goading her on. Everett grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto his cock at the same time as he thrust into her, slamming her hard against his muscled thighs and crotch.
And then he picked her up, all while continuing to thrust into her, and tossed her on the carpeted floor. Shocked at him handling her like this, and so easily at that, she opened her eyes wide and her mouth wider. Landing on her back on the ground—thud!—not hurt but having the breath knocked out of her, she stared up at Everett. He grabbed her thighs, pulled her across the carpet until she was close enough for him to skewer with his cock, and then took his pleasure from her once more.
This was too much—so animalistic and aggressive!—and she couldn't control herself anymore. Her orgasm built up, higher and higher, and she closed her eyes, concentrating. Every inch of him, entering her, the veins of his cock sending shivers through her body. His fur-covered hands and nails holding onto her thighs, easily able to pierce through her skin if he got carried away, but he knew how to keep that part of himself under control. The rest of him knew no such restraint, though. His thick, muscled thighs flexed, thrusting his lower body forward, fucking, mating with, claiming her as his own. Her pussy clenched and groaned, squeezing against his cock as if desiring and begging for him to unleash his seed inside her.
She climaxed hard. Forgetting to breathe, gasping for breath, she grabbed his sides and latched onto his back with her fingers. Catching his fur, pulling at it, she opened her mouth wide and forgot everything entirely. Everett never ceased, always continued, on and on, coupling with her relentlessly.
It felt so magnificent and pure. Strange, that, with some monstrous, beast-cursed man riding atop her, thrusting into her, but her orgasm didn't care. It loved it, loved his cock, and desperately wanted more. Her pussy squeezed his shaft, hoping to drain him of his cum, but Everett had more stamina than that.
Her orgasm peaked, then tapered down, still wondrously delightful, but past its prime. She clutched onto him, squirming, digging into his flesh with her nails and needing more and more. As if intent on giving it to her, Everett leaned forward and drove his nose into her chest.
The honey glaze, the juice from the ham; he licked it all up. His need for her was voracious, and this was a part of that. His tongue roamed across her breasts, roughly cleaning her, drinking up her sweat and the mess from the food, delighting in it. Across her breasts, through the valley between them, alongside her nipples, and to the sides towards her underarms. Everything, all of it, all while he grinded and thrust into her.
Danya squeaked and simpered. Her orgasm returned, flaring up and pushing to the fore; not yet complete, but desperately needing to become whole. Everett thrust harder, once, twice, and a final time. Then he took her hard, claimed her for his own, finishing his sexual hunt by emptying his sticky seed inside his submissive prey.
She moved her hips to meet his final thrust, writhing against his body. He glazed her inner depths, thick and sweet. His cream filled her to the brim as he finalized their mating. Swift tremors of climax clenched and clutched against his cock, her body becoming a needy, desirous animal just like him. She rode him, pleasured him, took her pleasure from him, and knew nothing else.
When he finished releasing his seed inside her, he drooped down and to her side. His cock popped out of her with a shlick as he rolled away. Exhausted beyond belief, Danya wanted to simply lay there, but an urge overcame her.
Her body shook, trembling from the aftermath of their wild mating session. Lifting herself up with one shaky arm, she moved atop Everett and slid down his body towards his waist. She found his cock, still quivering and hard and covered in her arousal and his cum. Taking it in her hands, she licked around it with her tongue, tasting the mixture of their juices. He was sweet, so sweet, and she wanted more and more of him. Greedy and delirious, she licked his cock clean while tasting, then swallowing, as much of their syrupy mix as she could.
Everett collapsed, spent, laying on the carpet and letting her do what she wished.
In time, fatigue set in, and Danya squirmed up alongside him. She nestled into the pit of his arm, and, cuddled against him, dozing into a light sleep.
When Horatio returned with the next cart of food, he saw them on the floor and chuckled quietly. "I'll leave this on the table, Master Everett. I'm certain you and the mistress will be hungry once you're both lively again."
"Yes," Everett said. "Good."
...
Beatrix knew something was happening. She could feel it in her bones, throughout her body, a shivering in her flesh making the fine hair on her arms stand on end. And, as well, something should happen, too. This year was the year that the century rose would bloom once more.
Magical, of course, and one of her specialties. It took a hundred years of nurturing to raise one of the roses to its full capacity, and then after that it would blossom forever with minimal care. Only once a century, though. But with a rose like this that was all she needed.
She could grow more if she liked, but the effort involved was a pain. What stopped most people was the amount of time the initial blossoming took. How could anyone know how long they would live? Most people never saw a hundred years of their lives pass them by, and so they couldn't very well grow a century rose on their own.
This led witches to stealing someone else's rose. Bribery, blackmail, coercion, and much, much more; abundant in the world of magicks and witchcraft, and all because of this one, single rose. Not every witch wanted one, but then the ones who didn't weren't worth the effort of caring about, either. As of now, Beatrix was the only witch she knew of who had attained the elusive flower.
She hadn't stolen it, either. No bribery, blackmail, coercion, or anything of the sort. She apprenticed with an elder witch before this and when her mentor was gasping, dying on her deathbed, the elder woman bequeathed her nearly finished rose to her pupil. Beatrix accepted it, more than grateful for this opportunity, and then her teacher died. With that, with the rose blossoming a few years later after being tended to for a century beforehand, Beatrix made her very first wish.
A common one, typical, but she wanted to live forever. The rose accepted, though it had a few drawbacks. Minor, nothing she couldn't handle, but she would need to deal with them for the rest of her life. And, now? Well, she was going to live for a very long time.
The rose blossomed more after that, and each century she gained the benefits of a new wish. More under
standing, gaining knowledge, becoming better. Everything was good, except for last century's wish. Perhaps age should have made her wiser, but she'd been so irate, so full of wrath and anger, desiring absolute vengeance, that she did what she did without fully thinking it through.
The man deserved it, though. Everett thought he could seduce her? Whisper sweet words into her ear and lay her into bed, and then toss her on the streets like some common harlot after they slept together? Oh, no.
Except soon his curse would wear out. Or, it had the possibility of doing so. She had no doubts that a man like him might beat back her magic, but then again he might not. It hardly mattered to her what he did or didn't do, but she needed to get the rose back. This time, and all the next times, she wouldn't be so hasty with the magic it granted her.
Stepping into her house after a day of picking herbs, she swooped straight towards her looking glass. Staring into it, seeing her own lovely reflection, she admired herself for a moment. Bright, lustrous lips, red as sweet apples, with deep, mesmerizing brown eyes like an innocent doe. Blonde, of course, and gorgeous to boot. She'd assured her good looks with a wish from the rose long ago, and they never disappointed her. Enough of that, though.
Tapping on the mirror, reciting a brief incantation, the reflective surface of the looking glass swirled with trapped mist. The mist parted slowly, revealing the mansion's guest house. She kept the rose there when she left, because it seemed like the proper place. Everett fucked her in the rose's new home long ago, in the bedroom at the top of the stairs to the right. And, yes, there it was, floating calmly in a crystal display case.
Hovering over the rose, staring at it, Beatrix saw a girl she didn't recognize. Of course, she found herself barely recognizing most people, what with being hundreds of years old, but she thought she might find some family resemblance in the girl. Not at all, though, nothing. The girl stared at the rose as if in awe.
Where were her clothes? Not that it mattered much, but Beatrix didn't want her tampering with the rose and a naked girl inspired much more caution in her than one wearing clothing.
Everett, she thought. He must have seduced her. Despite the beastly appearance she set on him, the girl found him attractive in some way. Beatrix didn't blame her. She hadn't exactly made a point of making him unattractive so much as she wanted him to look like an animal. A wild, ragged wolf wearing men's clothing, in a manner of speaking. Not quite that, but the analogy suited her perceptions.
Ah, well, Beatrix would kill the girl. She needed to. The rose was too precious, and with this girl watching it like it was some trifling bauble or curious trinket, there was nothing else to do save to end her life and keep her from gaining the rose for herself. Beatrix had nothing against her or anything, but this was the way the world worked.
Except! Hm. Perhaps? She shifted her senses towards the rose, curious. Something about the girl, so naïve looking, innocent, sparked Beatrix's interest. She felt the rose's feelings and thoughts settle into her body as if they were her own. The rose couldn't smell, not exactly, but it could sense things in a different way. Beatrix filtered these sensations and translated them into more human-like concepts.
Ah ha! Yes! Oh, ho, how wonderful! Really, this was amazing.
Before coming here, the girl had definitely had sex with Everett. Nothing special about that, but the circumstances of their coupling worked in Beatrix's favor. Perhaps this girl wasn't exactly a virgin, as she walked casually while naked like she'd spent a time or two with a man, but Everett had been the one to steal her technical virginity. And—the best part of all this—she hadn't yet cleaned herself up afterwards. Not that she looked dirty. A bit worn, tired perhaps, but quite attractive and nubile. Beatrix could see why Everett chose this one.
And, Beatrix would choose her, too. A few magical cantrips, setting up her enchantments, and then she could borrow some of the girl's virgin blood and use it for her own purposes. Quite a useful reagent, that. She wondered how much she could gather, and what exactly she would use it for.
Probably, most definitely, to finish making Everett's life a living hell.
...
Alena wandered through the guest house, looking at each room with amazement. It was so wonderful! She loved it. She was so very glad that Everett brought her here, since this was far better than the mansion in her mind. If she went to the mansion, she would need to share rooms with Danya. She'd be forced to see her sister wherever she went and be required to speak with her and be pleasant.
It wasn't that she minded doing these things, not quite. It was more that, after living with two sisters and her father for most of her life, she wondered how it was to live alone. To be by herself, just for a little bit. Of course, Everett didn't count in there, since he was a part of this. She was his and he was hers and she didn't think of him as a bother. Actually, Danya wasn't so much of a bother, either, but...
Alena just wanted to see how this was on her own. Maybe she would like it, and maybe she wouldn't, but she would never know until she tried. Right?
The only unfortunate part of the guest house was the dust. Everett either didn't clean often, didn't know how, or else he'd abandoned this home in favor of the mansion. Whichever, it didn't really matter. Alena knew how to clean, and so she immediately found a maid's closet and fetched a feather duster. She briefly contemplated putting on one of the maid outfits in the closet, too, but when she picked up a part of the ensemble it was frail and fell to pieces. The outfit would have looked so cute on her, though! She frowned, disappointed for a moment, but soon snapped out of it.
The front room of the house was the largest, and she dusted around the edges, then on to the den area, and finally a small dining table spot. She swept the feather duster across all of it, every nook and cranny. Clouds of dust swirled up, making her cough, and before she finished everything downstairs, she needed to escape upstairs in order to flee from the suffocating fog. This didn't usually happen, but she didn't usually clean places as completely abandoned as this one, either.
At the top of the stairs, she turned to the right and went into the first room she saw.
This one contained no dust or dirt. Strange? Yes, she thought, but there must be a reason. It was a bedroom, so perhaps that was it? Someone slept here—maybe Everett? Except, if so, why was the rest of the house so lax in cleanliness?
Alena sat on the bed, bouncing up and down on the cushions. It felt new, or at least newer, and without the wear and tear she typically associated with old furniture. The pillows looked nice, too. Jumping back, tossing herself fully onto the mattress, she lay her head on a pillow and spread her body atop the warm blankets. It felt so nice and wonderful and warm that she wanted to fall asleep right then and there. She thought she should do just that and rest a bit, then carry on, but something caught her attention from out of the corner of her eye. The closet door was cracked open by a bit and had a strange, pink glow shimmering out of it.
Alena rose from the bed and tiptoed across the wooden floor. The floorboards creaked, old and used, making her fearful. Would someone hear her? Except, what did that matter? It was Everett's house and he let her in here, so she had a right to stay. No one could tell her otherwise.
Her fingers wrapped around the edge of the door and she pulled it open slowly. The pink glow grew brighter, illuminating the closet and spreading into the bedroom. It twinkled and scattered across the walls and floor and furniture, leaving everything colored in rose hues. Even herself, her body, took on a different shade, pink and pretty.
Inside the closet—in fact, the only thing in the closet—was a vibrant, red rose. It lay in a glass display case floating in midair in the center of the room. No roots, no soil; nothing but the rose flower and its stem. Was it fake? She looked at it, wondering how it could have survived for so long inside a glass case like that. If the answer existed, she couldn't figure it out. Inspecting it closely, putting her nose up against the glass, she saw it had no thorns. And, also, now that she thought of it, how did
the glass float like that?
Alena tapped on the case lightly. Nothing happened. She pushed the glass, thinking to move it, but it remained staunchly in place. When she tried to lift it from the bottom, it seemed as heavy as a boulder. No amount of pushing, prodding, or poking was able to move this case and this rose.
On the side, slightly hidden, was a keyhole, though. If she had the key, no doubt she could open the case and access the rose. Except she didn't have a key, now did she? In the bedroom, in the drawers maybe? The bedside tables or hidden within the bureau? She had no real reason to want the rose, but the fact that it was there made it a challenge in need of conquering.
A test, of sorts. No matter how little it made sense, she became determined to get at her new obsession. Unbeknownst to Alena, the rose was also growing obsessed with her.
She checked the bedside tables first. The top drawer had nothing in it but cobwebs, and the middle was the same. To get to the bottom drawer she needed to kneel, so she lowered herself quickly to check it. When she pulled on the handle, the drawer refused to budge. She pulled harder, but nothing, and finally she braced her feet against the base of the table and pulled with all her might while pushing with her legs. When she was about to give up, feeling no leeway whatsoever, the drawer slapped open with a pop, sending her flying backwards onto the floor.
Tumbling, crashing against the wood floorboards, Alena crumpled into a pile. She cursed and rubbed at her rear, which had hit against the wall. Besides that she was fine, but argh! How annoying.
In a pile on the floor, staring towards the now open bottom drawer of the bedside table, she didn't realize it at first when something tapped her on the shoulder. When it tapped her once more, curious comprehension flitted through her mind. And then—wait, who was tapping her on the shoulder?
Startled and scared, Alena skittered across the floor and away from whomever was behind her. Though when she looked back, she saw no one. Peeking around the room, checking for signs of anyone at all, she still saw nothing.
Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (An Adult Fairy Tale Novel) Page 8