Beauty’s Beast

by Black, Stasia

  Then he straightens, rising over me to observe me like a work of art. My flesh prickles further.

  “Beautiful,” he finally pronounces, and turns away.

  “No,” I whimper, tugging at my bonds. I’m aching, dying for him to touch me.

  “No?” He shoots a smirk over his shoulder. “Are you trying to tell me something, Daphne? Have I given you any indication that you’re in charge?”

  I shake my head. Maybe, if I’m a good girl, he’ll come back and ease this crazy ache.

  He sets a small wooden box on the bed and lays down beside me, his head by my hip. The bed creaks with his weight.

  He turns the rose, shows me the stem. The thorns.

  “You told me pain makes you feel alive,” he reminds me. I raise my chin, refusing to cringe away. He circles my nipple with the sharp point. One wrong move and he’d prick me. My blood would well, the color the same shade as the rose…

  “I bought you something.”

  He sets the rose aside and opens the box, angling it so I don’t have to crane my neck too much to see the contents: strangely shaped jewelry adorned with glittering green stones.

  “Do you know what these are?” He lifts one to show me the clamp mechanism.

  “No,” I swallow. “But I can guess.”

  “I’d tell you,” he holds the clamp open over my nipple. “But I’d rather show you.” When the clamp closes, the bite sends a shot of sensation straight to my pussy. I breathe out, letting the low-level pain linger and fade away.

  The Beast studies my face carefully. He must see the exact moment when I’ve adjusted to one clamp, because he nods. “And the other.”

  This time he holds the clamp open over my nipple for an interminable moment. I have to close my eyes. My focus makes the bite worse, or maybe it’s just the compound pricking sensation from two clamped nipples.

  “Beautiful,” he says again. “Open your eyes, Daphne.”

  I obey and he teases the undersides of my breasts with the rose. My breasts feel fuller, aching not with pain but with need.

  “These are far from the most intense clamps I could use. You look so lovely, I might find a pair you can wear all day. With emeralds to match your eyes.”

  “You’re nuts,” I say without heat.

  “Careful. I have a third clamp I could use.”

  Third clamp? “Where…” My voice trails off as I realize what he’s threatening. “Oh.” My eyes widen. “You’d clamp me…there?”

  “I would. I will. Not today. We’ll work up to it.”

  I should be mad, raging at the thought of him adorning my breasts and clit with jewels and parading me around his castle naked, but I’m panting, incomparably turned on.

  “I wonder,” he murmurs, with a studied glance at my pussy. “You can take the pain. But do you like it?”

  He rises from the bed, repositioning himself between my legs. With my hips elevated, I can only see the dark top of his head as he bows over me. I stifle a moan as he nuzzles me.

  “Oh, Daphne, you like it. You like it very much.” He raises his head enough for me to see his evil expression. “You know what this means?”

  “No,” I gasp, my chest heaving.

  “There’s so much for us to explore. So many combinations of pain and pleasure. So many ways to make you feel alive…” He lowers himself down and I let my head fall back. I can’t fight anymore. When his tongue finally touches me, I give in.

  Eighteen

  Beast

  She tastes sweet. I’ve scented her before but this is my first taste and oh fuck. I’m supposed to be the one in control here. I fist my fingers into the sheets, chasing her honey with my tongue. I need more. I need every drop. Her lithe body jerks, the emeralds winking at me.

  My erection hardens to stone at the sight. She’s submitted so beautifully. Without qualm or question. Only trust. Trust in me.

  No one’s ever given themselves to me so freely, before or certainly not after I was scarred. No one’s trusted me like this in my whole life. And for it to be her, Daphne, my Daphne—

  The time of punishment is over. Now I’ll reward her so well. I’ll play her body and make it sing.

  I undo the nipple clamp even as I suckle harder on her clit. Her head flies back, her body shaking in the grip of orgasm. Her cries ring out.

  That’s right. That’s right, beautiful.

  And just when her cries reach their crescendo, I undo the second clamp and the second rush of pain hits her, prolonging her orgasm or launching her into a second, I’m not quite sure. But I’m there, just the tip of my tongue flipping ruthlessly back and forth over her clit until she’s screaming at the top of her lungs and thrashing on the bed.

  Pain plus pleasure just delivered her the most incredible, raw climax of her life. Unbelievable.

  She stretches out her hand as far as the restraints allow, moaning, “Please. Please let me touch you now.”

  I lift my head from between her legs, my own erection pulsing so hard it’s painful between my legs. Sweat dots her brow and her hair is damp against her forehead. Her pupils are blown from pleasure.

  She’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my whole fucking life. I can’t stand it. I have to have my own relief.

  I want to thrust inside her beautiful, dripping sex. Even imagining her tight heat enveloping me is almost enough to have me spilling in my pants.

  Daphne, my Daphne, finally, I could finally—

  Instead, I whip away from her and yank my cock out of my pants, grab the base of it and then pump furiously.

  * * *

  Daphne

  He turns from me. His head bowed, his shoulders hunched and shuddering. He’s jerking himself off and no matter how I crane my head, I can’t see anything beyond his dark profile, gilt in dying firelight.

  He’s still completely dressed while I’m stretched out bare and naked. Even now, while he pleasures himself. I can somewhat understand about his face, but why does he hide the rest of his body from me?

  And he won’t let me touch him. Why? Does he hate me that much? Or is he ashamed of how he looks? The thought strikes me and I sag back. I don’t understand, there’s so much I don’t understand.

  The Beast groans. His back judders as if he’s cumming. For a moment there’s no sound but his ragged breaths.

  Then he heads to the bathroom—I still can’t see anything. When he returns, the side of his face I can see is unreadable, but he has a warm cloth in his hand and a jar.

  He sits on the bed beside me, silent at first as he rubs the warm cloth between my legs. When he finally speaks, a wave of relief runs through my body. “You were beautiful tonight. I’m so proud of you.”

  Why do his words make me want to cry? After all I’ve achieved in my life…but as he dips his fingers into the jar of what turns out to be salve and rubs them oh so gently over my poor, abused nipples, I realize that all the praise I got throughout my life was never about me. I was always praised for what I achieved. Not for who I was—at least, not after my mother died. Tears spring to my eyes and I blink them back, hoping he doesn’t notice them.

  Next he undoes the restraints, rubbing the marks on my wrists. So gentle now, the opposite of the demanding Master earlier. Or maybe not the opposite, maybe it’s just the other side of the coin. This is the whole man. He’ll never inflict more than I can handle, and he’ll always be here after to soothe and care for me.

  I curl into him as he gathers me into his arms and carries me to the armchair. I’m drowsy. Where I was strung tight as a guitar string earlier, now I’m limp and loose.

  He builds up the fire and returns to the chair, lifting me and taking a seat. I’m in his lap, surrounded by his warmth, his strength. He’s still dressed and I’m still naked, but it’s still so good, so wonderful to be so close to him. I’ve never felt more connected to a human being and I never want him to let me go. He’s touching me everywhere, and in my way, I’m touching him. Well, the most he’ll let me.


  I don’t know how long we sit like that, cozy as a couple. I try to stay awake. I don’t want to miss a moment…

  But it’s…so warm…so…cozy…

  My eyelids droop.

  I fall fast asleep.

  * * *

  When I wake up, I’m curled up in the same chair, but I’m alone, a blanket settled over me and while the fire is still going, it’s dying down. And the Beast is nowhere to be found.

  I sit up and look around in confusion, scrubbing at my eyes.

  I tug on a long sweater and slippers and go in search of him.

  As soon as I start heading down the main staircase, I smell something amazing.

  I still don’t know my way around the castle, but I follow my nose.

  Gods, what is that? It smells so freaking good and just now do I realize how freaking hungry I am. It’s only today that I’ve really gotten my appetite all the way back after being sick and I feel like I could eat a large pack animal.

  The main floor of the castle is beautifully decorated. I only glimpsed it during my mad dash through the place when I ran out into the labyrinth. But now as I go, I take in the antique furniture, some of which looks almost a hundred years old.

  I can’t imagine the Beast hunting antique stores to find all this stuff or hiring an interior designer to fill the castle.

  But right, he said he inherited the castle from his ‘predecessor’, whatever that means. That word makes is sound like whoever it was wasn’t family, but why else would someone give away a castle in their will to just one man?

  It’s one mystery after another with the Beast.

  I press my hands to my face and pause by the windowed double-doors to the back garden. My whole life has been upended by a man I know literally nothing about. It’s insane. Completely and utterly nuts.

  So why does it feel like at the same time I feel closer to him than anyone else in my life? That he knows me better than anyone ever has before?

  The sun is setting, the castle casting long shadows over the huge labyrinth garden in the back, purple and electric pinks spilling across the sky.

  I press my hand to the cold glass. You never get views like this in the city. And when was the last time I paused to watch the sunset? To notice anything beautiful?

  “There you are.”

  I startle, but only a little, as I turn and see the Beast standing at the other side of the expansive sitting room.

  “I was just coming to get you. Dinner’s ready.”

  His eyes move from me to my hand on the glass of the double doors. The same ones I fled through. Does he wonder if I was thinking about running again?

  I step back. “I wasn’t going to—”

  “I know. Come. The food will get cold.”

  Just hearing his calm, confident voice sends a thrilled little shiver down my spine. Gods, he’s electrifying.

  I didn’t know that just being with another person could make me feel like this—like I was a dormant robot out of battery and then he came along and plugged me in. But even as the thought hits me, I bite my lip. That’s not quite true. I felt like this one time before, but it was a long, long time ago and I gave up on ever having it again. Or anyone ever wanting me back in the same way.

  I glance up at the Beast as he leads me towards what I assume is the kitchen or dining room. Does he feel the same way as me? Why is he doing all this? Why does he have the Battleman’s research downstairs? Is he— Does he actually feel something for me or is this still all about my dad and Adam?

  It all feels so real.

  But I suddenly feel sick to my stomach and almost lose my appetite thinking that this all might just still be about revenge. That I’m just a pawn to him, naïve and foolishly giving my heart when he doesn’t—

  “You’re quiet. That usually means you’re coming up with a thousand disaster scenarios to worry about.”

  I freeze and stare at him. How does he know that about me?

  He chuckles. “Stop worrying for once and let’s enjoy dinner. You must be hungry after all our exertions earlier.” He lifts his good eyebrow and smirks at me, then pushes through a door and leads me into the kitchen.

  Gods it sends butterflies flittering through my stomach every time he’s flirty like that. And look, the kitchen is on the first floor after all.

  I glance briefly around at all the modern appliances that have been installed, though the overall feel of the décor is still castle-chic. It’s really a beautiful blend of modern and antique, burnished stainless steel appliances amid stonework.

  There’s a small wooden table with plush chairs off to the side of the kitchen, a cozy little space to eat by a large bay window.

  The Beast puts his large, warm hand to the small of my back and leads me towards the table, already set with plates heaping with food.

  “Shrimp broccoli stir-fry.”

  “It looks and smells amazing.” And it does. Being in his presence, his hand on my back, suddenly my appetite has come back full force. When I’m with him, all my doubts and worries disappear. Foolish maybe. Definitely.

  But there’s just something about him. I can’t explain it. It’s the farthest thing from logical, when usually logic is what I pride myself on.

  The pull to him is undeniable, though.

  And when he pulls my chair around so that we’re sitting thigh to thigh, I love it. Every touch thrills me. Settles me.

  I want to sink into him and never look back. Nobody warned me it could be like this. I’m helpless to his magnetism.

  Maybe he sees it in my eyes because he reaches out and runs his hand up my back to my neck. He settles his hand there and massages slightly at the same time he takes a forkful of shrimp, broccoli and rice and lifts it up to my mouth.

  My bottom lip trembles as I open to him. It feels luxuriant and naughty to let him feed me. It was one thing while I was sick in bed.

  But here, both of us sitting at the table, it’s— It’s—

  “Lick the fork clean,” he murmurs, the pressure on my neck intensifying just the slightest bit, sending a shiver through my entire body. Shit, how is him feeding me so hot?

  I nod and run my tongue along the tines of the fork before finally, sensuously releasing the fork and chewing my bite.

  His dark eyes flare and then he takes a bite of his food from the same fork. A simple act but one that feels ridiculously intimate.

  We repeat this little dance for several more bites until I’m all but squirming in my chair.

  Okay, screw dinner. I want him to shove the plates to the floor and for him to put that sinful mouth on me.

  Even the memory of earlier has me wet.

  Which reminds me…

  “I’m not wearing anything under this sweater,” I suddenly blurt. Then I lick my lips and lean in towards him. “And I’m probably making a wet spot on your nice chair.”

  If I thought his nostrils flared earlier, it’s nothing to the way his pupils darken and his nose huffs out like a bull.

  “I don’t know whether to take you across my lap or praise you for being a very good girl.”

  His hand stays on my neck while the other, which he’d been feeding us with, drops the fork and immediately reaches beneath the hem of my sweater. And goes straight to my sex, where he dips his finger right in.

  He hums in satisfaction when he finds me as wet as I promised and his finger slips in with ease. He pushes in up to the first knuckle. Then the second.

  I squirm in my seat and drop my legs open to give him easier access. I don’t even really mean to do it, it’s becoming a reflex. He touches and I respond. I never imagined being mastered could feel so— so—

  “Ohhhh,” I moan and he smiles and his finger pulls out of me with a slick, slippery noise.

  “Enjoy your garnish, my sweet,” he says, then he lifts the finger he just had inside me, glistening with my own wetness and paints my lips before slowly, oh so slowly, shoving his huge, manly finger in my mouth.

  “Now suck
.”

  He tilts my head with the hand at the back of my neck, manipulating me like a doll while I suck his finger, and I suck it fervently, needing to break through his calm demeaner, needing to drive him as crazy as he’s driving me. Needing to know I affect him.

  And finally, finally, he breaks and pulls his finger from my lips and then his mouth is on mine.

  Kissing me.

  My first kiss.

  And it’s the most erotic freaking thing ever, him tasting my sex on my lips.

  I’m inexpert. I don’t know what to do, how to kiss him back, but I try. Still, he must sense something is a little off because he pulls back, confusion in his eyes. “Daphne?”

  I feel my cheeks flame and duck my head. “Is it that obvious I haven’t done it before?”

  He suddenly grabs my face with both hands and forces me to look him in the eyes. “Are you seriously telling me that was your first kiss?”

  I blink and try to look down again but he won’t let me. “Tell me the truth,” he demands.

  “I— I mean, I just never— I never had a boyfriend or anything.” Is he really going to make me explain this? “I just work. That’s all I do.”

  His jaw clenches so tight I think it might shatter but he manages to get out, “What about Archer?”

  “It wasn’t— I mean, he’d just told me he wanted more at the ball, but before that we’d always just been friends and—”

  His lips are on mine before I can say another word.

  And oh, kissing. Kissing is marvelous. In spite of his dominant nature, he doesn’t just shove his tongue down my throat.

  He teases. He teases like a proper devil, dancing along the tip of my own tongue in a way that lights up every single nerve ending in my whole freaking body.

  He breaks away only long enough to murmur, “You sweet, innocent girl. You’ve let me debauch you in so many ways when you hadn’t even ever been properly kissed?”

  He kisses me again, sweet and soft, his hands creeping into my hair. Finally, long minutes later, he presses his forehead to mine. “You’re impossible. You shouldn’t be real.”