Booty and the Beast (Sacrifice: Book 1)

by Ana Lynne

“No, but that can be changed. I see potential behind the nerd––shed some pounds, change your hairstyle, new wardrobe, ditch the books––”

  Her face cringed. “That sounds…well––horrible.”

  “How dare you deny me!”

  “Listen, Gaston…I appreciate the offer and all, but I’m not on the market.”

  She started walking away, “Lesbo? I can set up a threesome…foursome…or the whole fucking female stable if that’s what you want.”

  “Take care, Gaston,” she said, hurrying off with book in hand.

  A hand suddenly slapped at my back. “Congratulations, ole’ buddy. She’s the luckiest girl…or boy…alive,” Lefou said.

  I pounded him with my fist. Lefou got up, holding his jaw. Spitting out a few teeth, he said, “I deserved that, Gaston. I just don’t know why yet.”

  “She said NO!” I said in fuming anger.

  “That whore!” Lefou shouted. “She’s probably got a book stuck in her ass!”

  “Oh yeah? A book’s no match for Gaston the Great! When I want something, I take it!”

  “Grab her by the pussy, Gaston! Make me––I mean her…yours!”

  Beast

  I remember hearing an old man’s scream coming from the dark forest depths. The sound of howling and growling wolves echoed off dead, gnarled trees. Freezing sleet cried from the sky, summer be damned.

  Few guests had ever set foot in my forest of the dead. And those that did––never made it out alive.

  “Help me!” the old man screamed in breathlessness. I heard him ride his horse hard toward my gates. The wolves chased him every step of the way.

  Gazing into my magic mirror, I saw him knocked off his horse. The animal galloped off at a terror’s pace, leaving its owner behind. Alone, afraid, and desperate, the old-timer was petrified. To my shock, the man had a spirit in him, something obviously pushing him to survive. It was a foreign sight to me.

  I had nothing to live for–– no one to live for.

  I could help him, I thought. Maybe a random act of kindness will do the trick, save me from this horrid fate. Suddenly, laughter slipped from my raspy tin throat. It had been a long while since I’d laughed.

  Sadly, it wasn’t an expression of joy, but anger. I turned to exit my balcony, saying, “I could only be so lucky as to die in the mouths of wolves. No, I’ve rotted here for twenty years…not a single person knows I’m alive. Why should I save someone else, when there’s no one coming to save me?” I slammed my balcony doors in bitterness.

  Entering my master bedroom, the place was a wreck. It’s not like I had guests to tidy for. The entire west wing was nearly destroyed from my fits of fury. As each lonely year ticked by, I shattered every mirror I knew of. Any time my reflection appeared in anything, I smashed it apart. Brass, glass, jewels, silverware, whenever my frightful, fanged face appeared, I tossed it into the fire.

  Only my main household staff survived––that was even tested at times. Deep claw-marks scratched my entire oak bedframe. I smashed night tables, vases, desks, and historical works of art. Sharp teeth shred papers and photo albums of my family. I went through each image, devouring them into crumpled balls of crap.

  Arriving at the last family picture, I paused at one of my brother, our kingly father, and me. It was the only one in which we smiled. My father, a cruel man, was in a strange mood that night. He actually laughed.

  I believe he even told a joke, though I was too surprised to remember it. He even patted my head that day, like he actually cared for me. For just a moment in time, my loneliness softened. It was the closest thing to love that I’d ever felt.

  However, my eyes soon shifted to my rotten brother, Beloved King of France, I growled in anger at his face. Citizens throw themselves at his feet, never knowing I exist. They never knew the man––will never know the beast.

  Galloping onto my bed, I laid on the tattered and torn mattress. Dark memories from many years past, struck my mind. I could see my father lying in the very same bed, calling me over to him.

  “Child,” his dying voice strained with cancer. Being his holiday castle, smaller and less flashy than his Paris home, he never planned to die here. However, he was too weak to be moved.

  Cogsworth led me along, standing behind me for support. I was a small child, afraid of death. However, I feared father more than the reaper. “Steady, Prince. Steady,” Cogsworth whispered, feeling fear radiate from my body. I’d only been summoned to father’s bedside when I was to be disciplined. Of course––that was often. My shaking younger voice said, “Are you dying, Father?”

  He cracked my hand with his shaking staff. “You know better than to address me as father! You call me King!” his old, angry voice screamed. Just when I thought the man couldn’t get any meaner, his withering self did.

  I bowed in reverence, burying my hurtful rage deep down. “I am sorry, King.”

  “Yes, I am dying, you fool! Haven’t you seen me suffering all these months? Did I raise a blind, deaf, and dumb little prince?” I paused in silence, not knowing how he wanted me to answer. WHACK! He cracked my hand again. “Your lack of remorse borders on treason, boy!” His shout was followed with a deep, hacking of his lungs. He spit up a bloody mass onto his chest.

  I began crying, stealing a hug. Sadly, it was also the first ever embrace of the man. He shoved me off in displeasure. I spoke in fear. “I––I truly am sad, Father…I mean––King. I––didn’t understand how sick you were!”

  “Well you know now!” he shouted, coughing up another mouthful of gunk. “Your birthright, not that you deserve shit, is this old, drafty piece of pig’s filth of a castle. I always hated this place––I feel shamed that my last days will be inside it.”

  “Thank you, King. I shall cherish this castle, this room––even this bed with all my heart. I’ll never let it go.”

  His rusty voice let forth a sarcastic laugh, “I bet you shall. Anyway, here––you can drink and whore, while your brother leads. He is a king––you are a jester. Always dabbling in those childish hobbies and such.”

  “I don’t want to be a child, Father. I want to become a man too. I want to be king someday as well. Please show me how?”

  “It’s too late for that, child. I tried to beat it out of you––it never took. You want to become a man? Go stick your cock in a whore. Otherwise, keep out of your brother’s way.”

  “I am sorry I failed you, Father,” I started to cry, suddenly cracked in the head with father’s staff.

  He began screaming, “You are weaker than a woman! Men lead with their head––not their heart! You shame me with your compassion––your caring for nobodies!”

  “I will change, Father. I promise. I swear…I will make you proud from above––”

  “There is no above, foolish boy––just dirt below. Besides, you couldn’t make a limp dick rise––much less make a father proud. Now, enough of these tears and pathetic displays of shit! Get out of my room…you little waste of––” HACK! COUGH! GURGLE!

  I was shoved out of the way, left to watch him die a slow and agonizing death. I was just a young child then, maybe 10? Though I swore at that moment, I will shed my weaknesses! I will become a man! I will make my family name proud…my father proud…my king proud. The days of acting like a kind child are over!

  And I kept my word. I changed into a beast, at least on the inside. Tortured with memories of anger and worthlessness, I was hell-bent with something to prove. As much as I hated the enchantress, I knew inside, I was the one to blame.

  I should end it all right now, I thought, stepping back out to the balcony’s edge. However, the rare sounds of life hit my ears. My nose awoke next. The dining room? No one eats but me––and I’ve already eaten! I thought in disturbed wonderment.

  I raced down my dusty, red-carpeted staircase, heading toward the dining room. The closer I got, the more the current night’s leftovers hit my senses. I flung the dining room door
open when shock filled my eyes. An unknown old man was eating my filet mignon! Roaring from my gut, I shouted, “Who the hell are you?”

  The old man’s hair instantly turned from gray to white. He spit out his meat, shaking in fear. To my further anger, the man was joined by my chef, turned candlestick holder, Lumière. He went into damage control mode, “Good evening, maître––this poor man lost his way in the woods. I took it upon myself to feed––”

  “HOW DARE YOU FEED HIM MY FOOD!” I strained my lungs to the max.

  Lumière’s firelights flickered in fear. His thick French accent slowly explained, “I am sorry, maître. I didn’t think you’d mind since we’d just throw it all out anyway. No?”

  Head servant turned clock, Cogsworth, landed on the table next to Lumière. “He’s not being truthful, maître…I warned him not to let the stranger inside. I also warned not feed him too––I was totally and completely ignored.”

  Lumière said, “He’s the one lying, maître…you know how many faces a clock has! Never to be trusted.”

  Cogsworth defended, “You know I’d never lie to you, maître…the candle’s truth is as flimsy as a flame.”

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I screamed in frustration.

  “I’ll leave now!” the old man said, making a run for the door. I leapt with all fours, landing in the old man’s pathway. He crashed into my strong, hairy chest, falling to the ground.

  “Damn right you’ll go!” I grabbed him by the wrinkled neck, lifting him up with my clawed paw. “You’ll go right into my dungeon!”

  “No!” the old man cried out, kicking his weak legs into my side. I didn’t even notice the impact. My excitement overrode everything at that moment. Having a prisoner for the first time since becoming a beast, I was happy to watch someone else suffer. “Please, Beast––don’t put me in there! I’ll give you anything…just spare me!”

  “There’s nothing in this world you can give me,” I shouted, tossing him into the dark, cold cell down below. Slamming the door shut, I watched his wrinkled fingers grasp the steel bars. He shook so bad, the door rattled from the hinges themselves.

  He asked, “How long will you keep me here?”

  My beastly face leaned inward, dark smirk beaming right at him. “Till your last day on this Earth.”

  “No!” he cried, dropping to his knees. The man’s pained moans echoed through the dungeon hallway, following the words, “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my Belle!”

  Who the hell talks to a bell? I wondered. Then I thought of my own mechanical companions, Okay, I’ll spare him that one. “Enjoy your new home––it will be the final place you lay your head,” I taunted, once again awaiting his cries. They came louder, causing a large smile upon my face. I sat there the rest of the night, just listening to his misery.

  Oddly enough, it was the first time in decades I actually felt human again.

  Gaston

  “Who wishes they were me?” I slurred in slight buzz, standing atop a wooden table at the tavern.

  Every single hand went up, male and female alike. Lefou’s hand rose the highest. “I’d trade the world’s entirety of goldmines–––to be a pimple on your behind.” Of course, I knew that if the plump lowlife could burrow his head in my entire asshole, he would. And to be honest, I’d let him. No, I’m not a fairy dust sniffer; I’m a praise addict.

  “I didn’t really have to ask––I knew you had such desires. I just like hearing it.”

  They all laughed extra hard, practically keeling over at my joke. A rail thin blond ran to the table’s edge. “I can never be you…but I can certainly please you, Gaston!”

  “Go ahead, I suppose,” I permitted in boredom.

  She flung off her dress, fully exposed to every watching eye. Yanking down my trousers, my large, thick cock smacked her face. She smiled in pure bliss. Grabbing hold of my balls, she swallowed my manly rod in one fell swoop. Squeezing my man marbles, her head bobbed back and forth. Sliding and slurring along, she sucked like a sexual vacuum.

  Clearly no stranger to random blowjobs, the blond spit saliva all over my cock and balls. It felt ok, though something wasn’t doing it for me. I yawned. She disconnected, staring up at me with tears in her eyes.

  “Is it not good for you, Gaston?”

  “You bore me,” I said. Shoving her naked body to the floor. “Next.”

  The blonde broke down in tears, laying her head on the table right at my elevated feet. “Enter me, Gaston. You won’t be disappointed––” A saucy brunette said, grabbing a handful of blond hair and tossing the begging loser away.

  Flopping off her dress, the brunette said, “I am, Monique––”

  “Put out or shut up,” I said in impatience. Grabbing a handful of dark hair, I forced her to the table’s edge. Firing my long, thick cock at her like a deadly arrow, I crashed her mouth. Lips opening quickly, she swallowed me whole. In fact, I deep throated her so fast she choked on it.

  Finding her oral weakness, I began ramming deeper into her mouth, finding satisfaction in her helplessness. My balls crashed her face, punching her chin. Streams of tears matched the saliva pouring from her sealed lips. Sadly, she didn’t try to escape or break away. Instead, she accepted my sexual punishment. I finally flung her away, saying, “Bored. Who’s next?”

  Everyone raised their hands, again Lefou the most enthusiastic. Pointing at him, I said, “I warned you in the past––”

  Lefou frowned as his hand sank downward. “I just wanted a warm snuggle, Gaston. I’m straight––”

  I began laughing, “Sure you are––straight as a swerved line.” The bar broke into laughter, Lefou included.

  He asked, “May I at least choose a suitable girl for you to wet your cock? Only the best for you, Gaston.”

  “I suppose.”

  Lefou’s face lit up. “Thank you––you fine piece of man meat!” Running like a giddy school girl, he said, “Form a line, bitches.” Every girl in the tavern fought for a spot. The first one was a redhead. “It’s like a menstrual bleed on your head––go away.” The girl cried. The next was another blond. “Been there, done that––next.” The blond shed tears and ran off. A raven-haired skeletal beauty approached with confidence. “Hmmm––you just might do…if your nose wasn’t so big. Leave us,” Lefou said with attitude.

  I cut in. “Wait––she thinks she’s special…I see it in her vain eyes. I’ll take her on,” I said.

  Jealous disappointment crossed Lefou’s face. Pointing at me, my fanboy said, “Go to him, whore.”

  The raven-haired beauty flung her dress off, running my way. She had the nerve to ask, “Will you come down to me?”

  I announced, “I, Gaston, never step down to anyone’s level…certainly not a tramp!” I lifted the naked, dark-haired conquest up to the table. “I offer you a glimpse of mine instead.”

  The girl’s smiled beamed. “Oh––thank you so much Gaston.”

  “Now shut your trap…you’re making me lose my hard-on,” I said, lifting her in my arms, dropping her on my cock. Impaling her with my wide weapon of sex, I made her scream out in reaction.

  Feeling my swelling cockhead pop her tight hole, I thought, She’s rather loose, even for a barfly. Screw it…I’ll just stretch the slut out even more.

  Forcing her down upon my penis, her legs wrapped my strong waist. Her hope was to stop my 8-inch rod from further bottoming out her pussy. She lost that battle. I felt my cock bump her pussy wall. Her pained moan drowned every ear in the tavern, ass cheeks crashing down upon my hardness.

  My nails sank into her skin, scraping at her sides. Burying her head into my neck, her whimpers teased my skin with delight. My strong arms squeezed her so damn hard I bruised her body.

  Her satisfaction was obvious, but mine was nonexistent. What the fuck’s gotten into me? I usually love a good destruction fuck…their pain is my pleasure. Yet, I can’t concentrate. Maybe this will help, I thought, body slamming h
er down onto the wooden table’s face. Rows full of drinks went flying off the edge, smashing to the ground.

  The watching crowd cheered me on, “Go Gaston! Destroy her pussy!” I loved a good public romp, all eyes on my god-like body. Though not even that was doing it for me. Something was eating at my insides, an unusual occurrence.

  Turning my energy up a notch, I yanked her dark hair extra hard. It was so vicious, I pulled multiple strands from her scalp. I rammed her as deeply as humanly possible. She tried to kiss me and I slapped at her face. My fans loved that move, so I did it again, leaving deep red handprints on her. It made her cum all over my cock.

  On any given day, I would’ve cum by that point. Waiting around for female pleasure was never my thing, certainly not with whores. I kept trying to push my shame away, denying the real reason behind my rage. Don’t do it! I warned myself. Don’t you dare give the book bitch that power!

  Fighting truth, I withdrew from her used pussy. Sliding down to her asshole, I cared not for a warm-up. Her comfort was never my concern. Forcing my way inside, I used her dripping pussy as lube.

  Her scream was so loud, she very well sounded like a murder victim. It was a fact that would’ve certainly made me blast a load. Yet again, total ejaculatory failure! The crowd’s roar intensified. The crowd began chanting, “Cum Gaston! Cum Gaston!” I must cum, I thought in fear. My reputation will be ruined. Yeah, I’ll blame it on the whore–-but the shame will be mine to bear.

  Again looser than the usual backside, she was clearly no virgin, Too bad, I thought. It was much more fun to pop an anal cherry, more agony to witness. Driving deeper into her ass, I felt her heart beat quicker, breath blast my face. Pushing her head away, I advised, “Invest in breath mints.”

  Breaking from her sexual coma, she promised in hope, “I promise to fix my breath––for next time, Gaston.”

  I bluntly declared, “Next time? More like no time!” I plowed onward into her ass. I fucked her so hard, the girl’s slender body slid back and forth along shellacked wood. She grasped the table’s edges, scraping her long nails into the side. Yet another orgasm shook her body, and I still hadn’t cum.