Shrinking Everett to nothing? Perhaps if she transformed him so his body was the size of her pinky finger she could keep him trapped in a bird cage forever more. Or swallow him whole and deal with him like that? But, ugh, while she knew some witches wouldn't hesitate to do this to their enemies, Beatrix felt squeamish even thinking it.
Truth be told, she didn't even want Everett dead. She wanted him to suffer forever in torment and rue the day he'd shunned her, but she didn't want him to die. Or, she wanted all this until he apologized. Was that too much to ask? She wouldn't ask, because he should know and should do it unbidden, but the principle of it remained.
A curse? Another curse? Control. Pain. Minor magic, so she doubted she would do it, but perhaps it might amuse her to block him from ever maintaining an erection again.
Or perhaps a summons. Yes, summoning a creature from the dark beyond sounded like just what she wanted. Nothing too terrible, but a ghast to follow Everett around and torment him. This, she thought, seemed like her best choice, because if for some reason he managed to undo her beast-curse, he'd still need to deal with the supernatural being haunting his mansion. A spectral creature to instill fear in those inhabiting the place. And perhaps they'd flee, running off to somewhere else, leaving Everett alone and afraid.
Beatrix thumbed through the books on her bookshelf and snapped up one dedicated to summoning magic. She scanned through it, hoping to find something delightfully fearful.
And... yes! A vampir. Children of the Dead, many called them. They weren't any such thing, though. Malicious creatures that roamed the night in shadowed forms and caused mischief by levitating objects around and clattering them through a house. They had screams like exploding firecrackers and loved rich opulence. Of course they did require blood to sustain themselves, but mostly they preferred easy prey like squirrels and rabbits. Some ancient vampir preyed on humans, but she wouldn't summon one of those.
Everything was in order, and with that decided, Beatrix set to work. She snatched up a piece of chalk and drew a summoning circle on her cluttered floor, then plucked the various required reagents off her shelves. And, for the final step, she skittered towards her looking glass and fetched the sanguinary rose filled with the girl's virgin blood.
Beatrix scattered the ingredients into a bowl and then tossed the rose in, too. Casting a quick cantrip, she formed a circle of flames in the air that descended upon the bowl. The reagents caught fire, bursting into a rush of glaring orange flames, and that was that; a vampir should rise from the summoning circle to do her bidding.
Except it didn't end up working that way.
A giant, blindfolded man shimmered into existence in the center of the circle. The folded black wings on his back unfurled and slapped against the shelves on Beatrix's walls, sending the contents crashing to the ground. The man wore no shirt or shoes or gloves of any kind. The only thing covering his ruddy body was a tattered piece of cloth wrapped around his waist like a skirt or a kilt.
He stood and surveyed his surroundings. This wasn't what Beatrix wanted, but as long as he wasn't some powerful demon or other celestial being, the summoning circle should keep him trapped until she commanded something of him.
"I don't require your assistance," Beatrix said, keeping her voice firm. "Begone."
"No mortal commands Pinem'e," he said, his voice booming through her house and nearly shattering her windows. "I see your thoughts, though, witch. They interest me. In repayment for bringing me into your world I shall destroy the man you hate, but that is all. You may be next. I have yet to decide what I shall do here."
Pinem'e crouched low, tensing his legs, then he bounded off the floor and thrashed his wings, flying straight through her roof.
Beatrix stared at the empty summoning circle, blinking. Pinem'e? No, it couldn't be. That wasn't the spell she'd cast, not at all. Why would she ever want to summon one of the fallen angels? How, even?
Belatedly, she realized her folly. She hadn't just used virgin's blood in her spell; she'd used a part of the century rose, too. She should have extracted the blood first, but in her rush for vengeance, it seemed unnecessary. And most times it would have been, it should have been.
What had she done? Well, Everett was most assuredly dead now, no matter what else she did. Not her preferred choice of action, but she couldn't very well stop it. The only thing left to do was fetch the rose from the guest house bedroom and then leave. No matter what Pinem'e wanted, he shouldn't be able to remain outside his celestial plane for long with the paltry amount of reagents she'd used for the spell. A day or so, but no more.
Beatrix sauntered over to her looking glass, planning on simply pulling the rose through it. She'd set this up ages ago so that anything within the rose's glass box could be grabbed through the mirror, or she might place something in the box from her side of the mirror, too. Among other things, it acted as a good precaution for thievery.
She tapped the glass and watched the mist inside ripple away like a drop of water splashing into a puddle. It cleared, and there sat the box, but...
Where was the rose?
Stuck inside the keyhole of the box lay the key. Hadn't she destroyed that? Except, no, apparently not, and the twisted key had opened the box. Who stole her rose, though?
That girl! Argh! Beatrix screamed out her frustration.
She couldn't lose that rose. Most of the time she wouldn't worry, except a fallen angel was one of the few things that could completely obliterate her century rose. And why would he not do that? Or he might use it to sustain himself in this world for a longer time, too. The small portion of the rose she'd given him in the summoning might keep him alive for a day, but if he consumed the entire thing who knew how much time he had? Years, decades, more?
Beatrix sprinted out her front door and whistled for her horse. After a few seconds, the beast cantered towards her, whinnying and stamping the ground by her feet.
"Yes, well, we need to go," she said.
The horse gave her a curt bow of his head.
...
Alena awoke to the blaring light of imminent sunset. Hues of orange and gold streamed through the shaded window and assailed her vision, forcing her to acknowledge them. She blinked away her sleep and opened her eyes, looking around.
She felt physically exhausted and sore all throughout her body, but a good kind of sore. It was almost as if she'd spent the day running errands and helping her father in the shop, moving heavy items and doing hard work. Exercise fatigue was good fatigue, and she didn't mind it too much.
Also, she felt mentally invigorated. Where was she? What was this? She wanted to know and experience it and learn everything she could. She'd always loved schooling, but she hated how they told her to learn specific things. She was sure she'd get to those things eventually on her own, but she wanted to discover more about what intrigued her first.
And her current situation definitely intrigued her.
Oh, yes. She remembered it all in vivid detail. The plant, the sex, the sweet taste of its nectar gushing into her mouth and its seed seeping between her feminine folds. Was that a dream, though? Odd, and not something she'd usually do, but she slipped a hand beneath the bed covers and ran a finger across her glistening slit intending on tasting her arousal. Faintly sticky, like watered honey, she relished in the joy of teasing her body before moving onwards with her plan. Her fingers toyed with her clit and she stuck one, then another, inside of her. Hard, fast, again, gathering her lustrous arousal, then using it to coat her labia and spread the smoothness across her clit. She gasped, oversensitive and sore.
An orgasm overtook her like an unexpected flash of heat lightning in the middle of an otherwise clear summer day. Alena fingered herself furiously, surprised at the sudden gush of pleasure but wanting to prolong it as much as she could. She shifted uncontrollably on the bed, leaving a line of slick arousal on the sheets wherever she moved. Her orgasm flared up higher, reaching the pinnacle of delight, and she arched her back and stared mind
lessly at the ceiling. Her body bent to her will so wonderfully and she wanted more, but she couldn't continue.
She crashed onto the bed with a thud, falling limp, twitching. The blankets scraped lightly across her clit, making her fidget at the pure sensation of it. She lay there, confounded, but completely and utterly amused.
How had that happened? So fast and quick and strange? She didn't know, but she wanted to find out.
And then she remembered what she'd intended to do in the first place. Slow, cautious, feeling like she should rub herself to climax once more but denying her urges, she made a smooth trail with her fingertip from the bottom of her slit to right below the hood of her clit. Pulling her finger away before she changed her mind, she brought her hand to her mouth and licked at her own juices.
She tasted sweet and ripe like fresh-picked peaches. Alena stuck her entire finger in her mouth and sucked away her arousal. Swirling her tongue to taste all of it, not leaving so much as a drop, she lay languishing on the bed while enjoying her honeyed arousal.
She'd never done that before, and she'd never really thought to do it, either. It seemed odd, but interesting.
It was the plant, she decided. The flower from before with its pleasing odor and shimmery pollen. When it puffed the powder into her nose, it must have done something to her. An aphrodisiac of sorts, some kind of pheromones. Not only did they make her irresistibly aroused, but the sensation lingered in her body and made her feel devious. She wanted to smear her slickness all over her slit and her stomach and coat her breasts in sticky arousal, then plump up her bosom in her hands and lean down and lick the liquid off her own chest, teasing her nipples with her tongue if she could.
She wanted to abandon herself to pleasure. She wanted to stay in this bed, forever, and masturbate herself into a state of transcendental bliss. She wouldn't just feel pleasure, she would become pleasure, and drift away to another place entire. By her own magic, by the magic of her body, by...
Alena snapped herself back to reality. No, that couldn't happen. But, yes, it must be the plant. When it filled her with its viscous nectar, it must have instilled something in her. Fermenting, alcoholic and intoxicating, the honey-sweet sap had brewed inside of her and made her mind think strange thoughts.
This might have upset her, except Alena had a brilliant idea. The rose, yes, she needed it. She needed the petals and she needed its juice. Her own sweet arousal was enough for a little while, but she needed more, and for quite a distinct purpose. Ignoring her desires, tossing the covers up and throwing herself off the bed, she scrambled towards the bedside table. The bottom drawer remained agape from before the plant had taken use of her body, from when she'd struggled to open it.
She peeked inside, hoping beyond hope to find what she thought was there. Lowering her head to inspect it closer, looking in every corner, she knew it must be here. The key that opened the floating glass container holding the rose had to be here somewhere.
Except it wasn't.
Alena cursed, enraged, and felt pangs of ecstasy shooting through her body. Apparently it didn't matter what kind of excitement she felt, just as long as it was exciting. She spasmed on her knees, barely managing to refrain from shoving a hand between her thighs and stroking her clit. When the spasms subsided, Alena yanked at the drawer, frustrated. She pulled the entire thing out and threw it against the wall, glaring at it as the front of the drawer broke off and clattered to the floor beside the rest of it.
Then, there, right in front of her, hidden on the floor beneath the bottom shelf, was the key. Alena snatched it up quickly and hopped to her feet. She wanted to shove the key inside her slit and between her folds and feel the cool metal against her hungry inner walls, but, no.
No, no, no, no.
She hobbled towards the glass display case in the closet. Lowering the key to the keyhole, she managed to slip it in and turn it; though, oh, it was so dreadfully difficult. Her hands shook, her whole body shook, and she wanted nothing more than to return to the bed.
She needed the rose, though.
With this rose, and the allure of her glistening folds, she could lure Everett into eternally loving her. If he so much as licked at her slick slit, she knew he'd become drunk off the sweet taste of it. More, more, he would need more, and Alena would gladly give it to him. Anywhere, everywhere, with his head stuffed between her thighs and his mouth latched onto her pussy.
And she'd make a tea from the petals of the rose and offer it to him. Once he drank, he, too, would know what she felt. An uncontrollable urge for pleasure, except why must they feel it alone? They needn't, she thought. With both of them aroused, they should serve each other well.
She imagined herself laying back while Everett stared at her, drool dripping down his lips and onto her stomach and her chest. His thick, protruding cock ready to slam into her folds, and in her mind he wasted no time doing it. And while the rose affected him, his masculine cream would taste like the sickly sweet seed from the plant's vines.
A constant cycle, over and over. When he stuffed her with his cum, she'd scoop it out and eat her fill. Then, while they readied themselves once more, Everett could gorge on the slick arousal gathering between her legs. They would feed one another in constant amorous pleasure until one or the other eventually ran out, and then, laying in a mess wherever they were, they would both feel eternal, constant, and endless love for one another.
Alena would win. She plucked the rose from the now open glass case and tucked it behind her ear. With this rose, no matter what her older sister, Danya, tried, Alena would overcome it and become Everett's sole mate.
They would marry, and have children, and fuck, and enjoy fine dining and fancy ballroom dances. Carnal pleasure followed by culinary delight, and oh so much more.
Stealing away from the room, her feet pounding on the floor, Alena ran to find Everett. Whatever happened, she needed to get to him before Danya did.
...
Pinem'e flew high above the trees. He saw the mansion amidst the woods and descended towards it. Landing upon a balcony ledge, the fallen angel ripped open the flimsy French doors and stepped inside.
Pinem'e surveyed his surroundings: a library.
...
Danya stood in front of a body length mirror. The dress Taya made for her was beautiful. Or, technically it was already sewn, but the alterations the seamstress did to fit it to Danya's form made it look wonderful on her. She spun around, letting the skirt of the dress swish outwards.
Taya nodded her approval. "Very good. It's a lovely dress. Not that you needed one. I'm sure Everett wouldn't mind if you walked around naked, so long as you submit to his cock whenever he likes. And speaking of..."
Everett stood in the doorway. He looked less beastly now, though only slightly. Shorter hair covered his body, and he had a smoother jaw than before. If he shaved himself completely and put on a suit, she thought he might look like any other rugged gentleman.
"Danya, you," he said. "Beauty." He admired her for a moment, then said, "I need speak with." Everett cleared his throat and furrowed his brow. "I need to speak with you."
Danya stared at him, unsure. Should she go to him? Accept him? Except why? She needed him to realize that no matter what he used to do, she wouldn't be that for him. She refused to acknowledge herself as some common breed mare for him to stuff his cock into and cum inside, no matter how much she enjoyed it.
"I don't care what you two do," Taya said, "but close the door on your way out. I have a lot of clothing to finish. Everything is ruined, and I have to mend it before the others come back alive. Shoo, shoo." The seamstress pushed Danya lightly, urging her towards the door.
Danya went. The pale blue dress hung low to the floor, hiding the fact that she wore no shoes. Taya was a seamstress, not a cobbler, so she couldn't help her there. Danya walked past the exact dress dummy she'd just spent carnal moments with, glancing at it out of the corner of her eye, and then moved onwards towards Everett.
He held ou
t a hand for her and she took it, letting him escort her out of the seamstress's studio. Closing the door behind them, he walked her a short distance across the hallway towards one of the large mansion windows.
"Danya," he said, ogling her. His hands grabbed her hips and he dug his fingers into the fabric of her dress. Not enough to rip it, but it worried her. He pulled lightly, lifting, bringing the skirt of the dress up to just below her knees. "Beautiful."
"Everett, stop," she said. Placing a hand on his chest, she pushed him away. Not hard—though it wasn't as if she could push this beast of a man away if he didn't want to move, anyways—but enough to presumably get her point across. "No more. I know what you're doing and I refuse. I enjoy it. I enjoy you. But I won't let you use me. I know Alena is here and I know what you've been doing with her."
Everett smirked at her, some beastly, wicked grin. She held her hand against his chest trying to halt him, but he ignored her and pressed forward.
She couldn't hold him off. To keep distance between them, she backed away. Everett refused to let her go. A predator stalking his prey, he backed her against the wall outside of Taya's room and leered down at her.
"Danya jealous," he said. "I come to speak about Danya sister, Alena. I understand. Danya jealous."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
It was difficult to figure out what he meant, especially when he kept pushing against her. Her arm bent, hand still pressed against his chest. His hot, heavy breath fumed from his mouth like thick smoke, fogging up her vision. He grabbed her hips once more, but this time when she pushed against him he didn't let go.
"No," she said. "Everett, stop. You're using me and I understand it's to break your curse, but I won't. You need to understand that..."
Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (An Adult Fairy Tale Novel) Page 12