Master Over You

by Cerys du Lys

  The beast was standing right behind her.

  She turned to look around and saw him, and then she screamed but it was too late. He ran forward and grabbed her by the waist, picking her up. Her screams went unanswered in the middle of the woods. The beast carried her, kicking and screaming, towards the entrance of his mansion. The gated fence unlocked and opened as if by magic when he approached, and shut after he carried her through. They ran down the winding path to the front doors of the mansion, and those too opened and closed on their own.

  When he had her inside, she'd screamed so much that her throat was dry and parched. He put her down on a lush, red carpet in the foyer just inside the doors and stared at her.

  His nostrils flared, sniffing, but he held his composure and stayed away from her crotch even if his eyes kept darting downwards every few seconds.

  She looked at him then, all of him. He stood on two legs like a human, and appeared mostly human except for the hair covering the entirety of his body. His legs were strong and muscular and long and he looked like he ran ten miles a day or more. Up further, his cock stood at attention, the head glistening with precum. He had less hair here and on his legs and chest, more like a thin layer of fur than anything else. Actually, now that she saw him up close, the top of his head and his jaw had the most hair, thick and shined. When she thought on it, he looked almost like a very tanned person with a full beard and thick head of hair; the kind of hair she wanted to run her fingers through and grab and pull him towards her into a passionate kiss.

  The beast stood there, letting her inspect him, and then he spoke. "Sorry," he said.

  She looked at him, confused. "Why are you sorry?"

  "I need," he started to say, but his voice cracked. "I need you. I have need since I saw you in trees with man."

  "Who?" she asked, then answered her own question. "Oh, Michael."

  "He is not good enough," the beast said.

  Danya laughed. Boy, was he right. Michael definitely wasn't good for much. "Do you have a name?" she asked. Becoming bold, she stepped forward and put her hand on his jaw, caressing his face up to his cheek. "Are you here all alone?"

  "Everett," he said. "Yes. Alone."

  "You need me," she said, slowly. "What do you need of me?" She moved closer to him, gently exploring his face with her hand.

  "I need." He stumbled for words, looking unsure of himself. "I'm sorry," he said before moving his hand to cup her sex. "I need."

  Danya smiled at him. He was so strong and masculine, the epitome of manliness in her eyes, but so fragile and delicate at the same time, confused and unsure. "I'm very thirsty," she said. "Do you have wine?"

  "Wine," he said, practically running to fetch it. "Yes, wine. I have."

  He disappeared from her sights, vanishing down a long corridor and through a doorway. When he returned, he carried a bottle of wine and two glasses. The wineglasses looked miniscule in his massive hands and she laughed when she saw them.

  "What?" he asked, frowning.

  "I don't think we need glasses," she said.

  Taking the glasses from him carefully, she set them aside on a small table by the doors. He'd uncorked the wine from wherever he'd gotten it, so she lifted the bottle to her mouth and drank deeply. It tasted rich and luscious, with a hint of a floral scent to it. Danya swished it around in her mouth, savoring it, then swallowed. She offered the bottle to Everett and he drank as well, grinning.

  "Good?" he asked with that same goofy grin on his face.

  "I want you," she said.

  The beast transformed. Wanting to please her before, wanting to gain her acceptance, once he had it he no longer intended to play awkward flirtatious games. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the air. Before she knew it, they were in a sumptuous dining hall, her sitting on the end of a table while his pulsing cock prodded against her dress-covered stomach.

  "I need," he said.

  "Yes," she said. "You need."

  He tried to enter her, but she still had her dress on. Acting gentlemanly for a second, he struggled to lift off her dress without ripping it with his claw-like fingernails. She laughed and he looked at her oddly.

  "Rip it," she said. "Tear it all off. Take me."

  He snarled and pulled on her plain brown dress. His claws sunk into the fabric, never touching her skin, and he shredded it down the sides before tearing it from her. Now she sat before him in only her leopard-looking bra and panties, ripe and fit for the taking by any true beast.

  He stared at her long and hard, taking in all of her, waiting. He seemed to like just looking at her. She liked it, too; the mounting tension, palpable between them. His prodding cock throbbing, pressing against her stomach, but doing no more. She saw his nostrils flare slightly and got an idea.

  Inching away from him for a second, she kicked off her sandals and let them fall to the floor. He watched her as she slid out of her panties and held onto them. Grinning at the undergarment, she rubbed it against her slick folds and then lifted it towards him. He strained to control himself, but finally gave into his urges and drove his nose into her hand and the arousal-scented panties.

  Everett went wild, truly a beast. He rocked against her, his cock sliding up and down her stomach. She inched forwards again until she was on the edge of the table, and at this angle his cock found the folds of her pussy and slid between them, up and down alongside them. His cockhead moved between rubbing against her clit to poking at her belly button, and back again, grinding against her, while he sniffed frantically at the panties in her hand.

  She tossed them away, across the dining table. Everett looked at her, frowning, but she remedied this by moving his cock downwards until it barely entered her wet slit. Danya wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in by the waist, feeling every inch of his shaft as he pressed into her. Everett, unsure from the loss of the panties, soon found his way again.

  He pulled her close to him and filled her with his cock. Danya winced and screamed out at the size of it, but wanted more and more. The beast inside of her pulled out fast, then slammed back into her, faster than any man had ever fucked her. He left her slowly next time, every throbbing vein and twitch from his cock exciting her in tantalizing ecstasy, then he filled her up in the same slow, agonizing fashion.

  "I need," she said. Her hands wrapped around him and her fingernails dug into his back. "I need!"

  Everett teased her, pretending to thrust into her, but stopping halfway. He repeated this a couple times, smiling at her urgent tugs, until finally he gave in and sheathed his entire cock inside of her. Danya screamed, yelling out her pleasure, and urging Everett on. He thrust and pounded into her, the soft fur on his stomach pressing against her clit every time he slammed in, building her up and up to much needed release.

  Just as she was about to orgasm, he stopped. Her mind blanked, confused, frustrated. When she opened her eyes he was gone and she wanted to shriek in anger, but before she could he had his face buried between her sopping folds. He sniffed hard, devouring the scent of her arousal with his nostrils. His tongue moved out to lick at her slit while his nose tormented her clit, rubbing back and forth, digging into her pleasure pearl.

  Danya climaxed, fierce and slick. Everett lapped up her juices and covered his nose with her orgasm's scent. He kept going, pushing her on and on, until she lay exhausted on the table.

  "My fucking god," she said. "Fuck."

  Everett wasn't done with her, though. He jumped atop the table and gently, but urgently, dragged her to the center of it. Flipping her so her stomach touched the smooth wood, he hurried behind her and then drove his cock into her sore, abused cunt. She yelped and squeaked, but grinned at his imperative lust.

  The table rocked beneath them. Bent at his knees with his cock delving into her at an angle, he lowered his arms to her waist and roughly grabbed her hips, fucking her faster, using his entire body to forward his motions. More crude and crass than any of her previous lovers, she wasn't sure if she could h
andle him, but she desperately wanted to. Every time he entered her, he grinded himself inside of her so her crotch and clit rubbed against the smooth wooden table. Her breasts heaved, squished beneath her, wanting to flatten but too large and pert to do anything but act as cushions for her upper body.

  Her whole body ached now, her long walk through the woods and his rough handling of her taking its toll. He pounded into her and her pleasure rose, but she felt like she needed to rest, too. She clenched her thighs together, her whole body tensing, and squeezed her orgasm forth, needing it despite her fatigue. When her pussy tightened, begging for his cock, he bucked into her and howled.

  Orgasm wracked her entire being and she tightened every muscle in her body as much as she could. Who cared about being sore later? This was the most exquisite thrill she'd ever experienced. Everett's cock jerked inside of her, pouncing like its own miniature beast, and erupted. The first jolt of cum splattered her insides hard and she expected the second to come just as fast. Surprising her, he moved back, half-pulling his cock out of her, then slammed back in just as the second jet of cream claimed a place inside her. Again and again he did this, a third, fourth, and fifth time. By the tenth, his strength was wavering, but his cum seemed nearly as strong and thick as the first batch. She felt his warmth inside of her and his seed seeping out of her and onto the table.

  Her orgasm calmed, slowing to a quiet thrum, and his stopped, as well. He buried himself inside of her one last time, laying atop her, breathing on her neck. She turned her head to look at him and lifted her hand feebly to touch the side of his cheek. Sniffing at her hair, he lifted her torso up slightly so he could cup her breast in one hand.

  This, she thought, was amazing.

  As they spooned in their odd position on the table, something strange happened. A large grandfather clock against the wall chimed the time with four loud peals. In the center of the clock face a light sparked, appearing into existence out of nowhere, then clambered from out of its timely prison. It floated nearly six feet off the floor and dripped sparkles like confetti downwards. The little bits of light spread out and coalesced into the shape of a man, then shimmered bright and blinding.

  Danya blinked, but was too caught up in the afterglow of her orgasm and the safe, warm feel of Everett's arm around her and his body pressed against her to do more than watch.

  When she finished blinking, the figure of an elderly gentleman wearing a butler's uniform took the place of the shining light. The gentleman gasped, startled, then looked at the pair in front of him on the table. He smiled and bowed courteously.

  "I see the master has found a mistress. Has it been a long time, sir?" the butler asked.

  "Yes," Everett said. "Long. I need." He squeezed Danya's breast and pressed against her, his half-hard cock teasing her aching body.

  Danya wriggled beneath him, feigning discomfort, but if he wanted to take her again right then and there she would have let him in a heartbeat.

  "I believe I am the first to return," the gentleman butler said. "If that is the case, please allow me to fetch you and the lady a meal from the kitchens. It will take some time, so I do hope you both have a means of keeping occupied?" He waggled his eyebrows at them, smirking.

  "Yes," Everett and Danya said rather quickly.

  The butler left, laughing as he went.

  "I need," Everett said to her when they were alone again, "but... we wait. You rest. Then more? Good?"

  He moved to her side and she nuzzled against his chest. "Yes. I want, too. Is it the curse from the story? Will me staying and doing this bring everyone back? Will you change?"

  "Yes," Everett said. His brow scrunched up, thinking. "I need... for more, though. You understand? Not curse. Curse is bad, but I... want? I like. I need."

  "I understand," Danya said. She curled her body against his, as cozy as if she had a warm blanket covering her and was laying by the fire. "Let's rest. I'm tired."

  "Yes," Everett said. "Sleep."

  ~*~

  You can find the rest of this story here: Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (The Complete Series)

  Other Writing by Cerys du Lys

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  *Roland and Elizabeth*

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  *Secrets*

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  About the Authors

  Cerys is a USA Today Bestselling Author. She has charted on numerous best sellers and hot new rele
ase lists internationally and with multiple books.

  Cerys lives in the Greater Boston area in a small town in New Hampshire. She spends her days writing, reading books, learning, and working. And maybe sometimes she flirts with the mailman. Some of her most favorite activities involve understanding and learning about emotions and relationships.

  She adores pondering sexual sensuality, as well. Most of her writing delves into this in some way, exploring reactions and relationships between different people. While she enjoys writing steamy romance, her goal is to give you substance and intrigue with your sexy scenes. Every story she writes has a delightful plot along with the more devious and delicious scenes we all want to read.

  She prefers romance stories with a little mystery and suspense and the occasional romantic thriller. While many of her novels happen in a contemporary setting, she occasionally dabbles in fantasy and paranormal romance.

  Check out more from Cerys du Lys (here).

  ~*~

  Ethan is a gentleman, an author, a lover, and occasionally a rake, a cad, and a dom, but only if you've been good (punishing good girls is more entertaining than punishing the naughty ones). He lives in the Greater Boston area in a small town in New Hampshire where he grew up.

  He has a penchant for exploring and traveling, with a passion for the unique and interesting. His interests include reading, exercising, laying on the beach, spanking (good girls), romancing, smiling, going for walks that lead to nowhere, hiking, bondage, and one day he would love to travel to Alaska.

  His writing delves into the human experience, with a preference towards a psychological thriller twist. He loves mystery, dark romance, and suspense. While some of his writing may be twisted, he believes in romantic true love, above all things. His books include raw, real emotions, good and bad. He believes there is a light at the end of every dark tunnel, and his writing hopes to encompass that.

  He loves happy endings, kissing, and a focus on the ordinary turned extraordinary.

  Check out more from Ethan Winters (here).

  Afterwords

  If you have any questions about this story, or requests for a future addition, feel free to email them to cerysdulys@gmail.com or to author.ethanwinters@gmail.com . We can't promise a response to every single one, nor can we say that requests will be fulfilled, but everything will be read. As long as they are appropriate and respectful, at least.