by Sophie Starr
We walked away from him, but when I looked back he offered a subtle smile. Everything about the castle scared me, but when we rounded the last dark corner and walked into a room it didn't. Instead, it took my breath away.
It even made me forget I was naked and in agony.
The candles were lit in a way to create shadows and yet show off the artwork and statues. And the display of it all was stunning.
We stood on a balcony of sorts with the grand staircase spilling out below us. The floor was checkered marble and the walls were draped with tapestries and art and the heaviest curtains I had ever seen. They were as tall as the walls, making me wonder how large the windows were to need drapes so big.
It smelled divine, and to the right of the huge open space I could see a well-lit room. I was eager to be in the light again.
She walked and pointed. “This grand room was the main hall for meeting guests and dignitaries. His Highness—forgive me. I am confused. The king who was once lord of this fine castle, had parties so large that this room was flooded with guests.” She spoke as if it all were romantic. As if she were leading me on a tour.
But that was not the case.
“This painting here next to the stairs is seven hundred years old, gifted to the royal family who reigned here. And this vase came from an envoy wishing to pass through the kingdom. It was their way of showing they meant no harm and wanted to pay tribute.” The quiet Mrs. Potts had vanished as we walked down the stairs. The obvious pride she felt for the home spilled out of her in gushing waves. “These arches here were hand carved over one thousand years ago. The entire castle was once made up of only this room. It has been lovingly cared for as it has been expanded over the years to accommodate the growing kingdom.”
We arrived at the room with all the light and I was immediately stopped, stunned again.
In the doorway I paused, taking in the majesty.
It was magnificent.
A gilded table sparkled under the light of the chandeliers—seven of them. The table might have sat one hundred people but only two places were set, one at each end.
“The walls are covered in a rare satin from the East and the wainscoting is from timber in the North, very hard to come by. The portraits are of the royal family that ruled here for so many years. Each a male heir to the throne, strong and handsome.” She eyed me up, still gushing with pride. “Do ya not think them handsome?”
I nodded. “The resemblance is uncanny.”
“Oh yes, the family line is a strong one.” She curtseyed and stepped back. “But supper isn’t going to make itself so I must be going. You will be seated and cared for until the master arrives.” She laid a hand on my arm and sighed. “Take it all in stride, my dear. It’s overwhelming, but it’s not the end of ya. Trust me, it takes far more than something like this to ruin a strong woman.” She winked and walked out of the room, leaving me alone.
But for only a moment.
A voice startled me. “Miss Belle. I am Cogsworth, the butler. How lovely to make your acquaintance.”
I turned to see a chubby man with a large mustache and a very fine butler’s suit. He had a hefty pocket watch on his lapel and a wide smile, made bigger by the mustache. He bowed ever so slightly but still far more than I deserved. I curtseyed to him.
“Lovely to meet you.” I couldn't stop lifting my hands near my breasts to cover them. I felt naked in the slip of a dress Mrs. Potts had given me.
He walked to the large chair at one end of the table and pulled it out. “Please, have a seat. Do you prefer red or white wine? The dinner is roasted hen, so a red would go nicely with the herbs and potatoes.”
I winced. “I don't really drink wine, so I am at your mercy. My father never—” I paused and sighed.
Cogsworth placed a hand on my shoulder. “I am so sorry about Maurice. He was a sweet man.”
“Why did your master lock him away in the raven’s nest?”
Cogsworth swallowed hard, shaking his head and darting his dark eyes about the room. “I do not know the answer to that. I know only that your father is a very kind man.” His smile returned, but it only found its way to his lips.
He motioned to the chair he had pulled out for me. I hesitated, but took the seat. “Thank you.”
At least seated I felt a bit more covered. The chair was so large that it felt like it swallowed me whole.
I shivered, hating that my arms were bare and that so much of me was exposed.
The dress was ridiculous and the heat from the massive fireplace wasn't quite enough. “I will fetch you some wine.” Cogsworth bowed and left the room. I got up and walked to the fire, running my fingers along the engraved wooden mantle. I couldn’t help but wonder how many people had touched this. How much history surrounded this castle?
The heat teased me, flickering and warming inconsistently. It was a big fire but was set toward the back of the large fireplace, which made the heat seem not as strong as I needed it to be.
I stared so long at the flames licking the logs, I didn't notice the lights had dimmed. I heard footsteps and turned, seeing the chandelier was suddenly put out and only a few candlesticks sat lit on the table.
In the darkened room, I glanced about, not sure if I was alone or not. “Hello?” I whispered into the still room. Shadows from the fire took form, creating dancing images around me.
“You are not seated.”
I jumped when he spoke from across the room and with the same gruff voice. His tone was calm but still frightening.
“I’m cold.”
“The wine will warm you.” His side of the table had no movement but having looked away from the fire long enough, my eyes adjusted and I could see he sat there, watching me. The fire glinted off his eyes, making them a glistening sparkle in the dim light.
I didn't know if I should go to my side of the table or not. I wanted to run but at the same time I was angry and wanted to berate him.
“Remove the dress.”
Everything inside me tightened as my eyes widened and my breath stopped short.
“You said you would do anything I asked.” His tone almost mocked me.
I lifted a shaking hand to the flimsy strap and slid it down one arm. My mouth was dry and my heart was racing, but I refused to let him see that. I would not let him have the satisfaction of knowing he had me beat.
I dragged the other strap down and let the dress slip down my body and land in a puddle of silk at my aching feet.
“You are very beautiful, Belle.” His head tilted to the side, shifting the hood a little. “Remove the rest.”
I stepped out of the shoes first, sighing from the relief. Reaching back and struggling with the buckles and snaps, it took a second, but I eventually got the breast holder off. I dropped it to the floor and again sighed. The rest meant nothing to me, the undergarments hadn’t covered much to begin with.
When I pulled off the last stocking I stood up and leaned back toward the fire, letting it warm me.
“Come to me.”
That was the first request I didn't think I could do. My feet refused to walk and my heart was actually in pain from the tightness of my chest.
“Come to me.” He repeated but his tone had changed or softened a little. I took the first step, not sure where it was going, but I knew it couldn't be worse than having Gaston’s cock shoved into my mouth. The master didn't need me naked for that.
Slowly and terribly afraid, I walked to him, staying just out of his reach. He stood abruptly, making me jump and then look up as he towered over me, still hidden by his cloak.
I shuddered, unable to keep the fear and cold from tormenting me. He reached a hand out. It was a smooth hand, not an animal’s like I feared it might have been. His long fingers brushed my arm, running along it softly and then grabbing roughly.
I gasped as he dragged me to him, pressing my chest against his waist. His breath hitched as my naked breasts squished against his shirt. His hand spread, releasing my arm and sliding
around my back, holding me tightly to him.
“You will do whatever I ask?” It sounded like he was confirming, like this had been a test.
I swallowed and forced a nod. Nothing could be worse than what was waiting for me at home. I remembered that clearly.
His fingers massaged lightly on my back muscles as he chuckled. “Come here.” He led me to the table and pushed the mat with the plate and cutlery on it to the side. He placed his hands gently on my hips before squeezing and lifting, sitting me on the cold table.
I sucked my breath, desperate to see the face of the man who was about to assault me, but the shadow stayed with him, as if he were the shadow.
He ran his fingers through my hair, dragging and pulling slightly. I didn't wince. I suffered in silence and confusion. They lowered to my arms, dragging too hard and almost pinching as they scraped down me.
He lifted them again, running them roughly down my throat to my chest. He covered my cold breasts, making me shiver from the warmth of his hands that engulfed my bosom. I hadn’t even thought it small before but his huge hands erased them from existence. He lifted slightly, as if playing with them.
My breath was slow, cautious. But my heart raced, no doubt pounding against his hand.
He dropped to his knees, again too quickly, making me gasp. He spread my legs and in a moment of my complete and utter confusion he placed a soft kiss upon the inside of my leg.
I had the wickedest thought as his warm breath hovered, caressing my inner thigh. His face drifted, taunting me with breath and possibility. He placed a second kiss, just brushing his cheek and whiskers against the outside of my sex. I froze, not sure what I was feeling. He was a shadow and a tyrant, and yet for a reason I could not explain, I wanted more of what he refused to verbally promise.
He trailed his nose against me, touching everything but the spot I desperately wanted him to touch.
Before I even invented it by thinking it, he did something there was no way men did. He flickered his tongue inside me, brushing it so fast I almost wondered at it being my imagination. But my head dropped back and my hair brushed my arms as a moan left my lips.
I never fantasized of a man placing his face where a baby might come from. I never imagined a single thing about it until his face sat there, frozen and teasing me with my own imagination.
“What do you want me to do, Belle?” he asked, not speaking to me but the wickedness inside me.
My lips parted and the answer fell from me, to my own surprise. “I want you—”
“Yes?”
How could I say the thing I wanted? I couldn't. I pressed my lips together.
“What do you want, Belle?”
My hips gyrated in a small circle as I begged him physically to touch me there again.
But he didn't.
He stood, letting in the coldest rush of air. Shame and horror filled me as he stood there, covering us both in his shadow. I sat up quickly, looking down and wondering at what I had done.
“Put your dress on.” His tone was cruel again.
My lower lip trembled, but I lowered myself to the floor and walked to my heap of clothing in front of the fire. I struggled, fighting hot tears as I pulled on each warm item all the while refusing to look in his direction.
When I was done, I wrapped my arms around myself and walked to the chair. I sat, huddled into myself, colder than I imagined I had ever been. The wine was before me, though I hadn’t heard Cogsworth return with it. I wondered if he had come when I was naked and spread open on the table like a fool.
The master spoke again, but I couldn't understand him, not with us being so far apart. He said something else. It sounded demanding.
I didn't want to but I lifted my head and answered him. “What?” I asked loudly and somehow he heard me clearly and responded in a way that I heard him, but could tell he was not shouting.
“I said you look lovely.”
My brow furrowed as my anger at him raged. He had humiliated me in every way. I didn't understand why he had wanted me to feel those tantalizing feelings only to crush me with them.
He said something else but my fury got the best of me. I stood abruptly and walked toward the end of the table where he sat in the shadows. Though I still could not see his face I pulled a chair out, a few away from where he was, and sat with a scowl. “I know you find joy in humiliating people, but what pleasure did you get from locking my father away in the raven’s nest? He’s an old man. He’s sickly if you couldn't tell.” My words broke a bit as my sobs were sitting close to the surface.
“He shot a stag. I have told you that. Return to your seat.”
“No!” I demanded. “You-you-you have demeaned me. Now you will tell me why shooting a stag is such a sin and punishable by death. He is an old man and not well. He is sick—just sick.” My voice trailed as I refused to say aloud that he was mentally unwell. “Not sick like you though.” My last words were a harsh whisper.
“Go back to your seat.” His voice changed a little; it was back to the one he had frightened me with before.
I jumped up, shaking and scared but devastated. “I am not hungry and I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!” I turned and stormed from the room.
“YOU WILL SIT!”
I ignored him and continued running. Once I hit the great hall I ran for the stairs, hurrying in the flimsy shoes she had given me—strange heels with almost no support. They clicked until I reached the carpeted staircase.
He moved behind me, maybe running, I didn't know—I didn't look back.
“YOU WILL COME BACK HERE!” His voice echoed on every wall, including the ones in my head.
I winced and ran harder, ignoring the pain in my legs and feet. I lost a shoe on the stairs and left it behind, turning to the left instead of the right at the stop and kicking off the other shoe. It was confusing, and I didn't realize which way I was going.
I hurried past paintings and unlit sconces into a dark part of the castle, truly dark. I could see nothing until I reached a hallway with large windows on either side, like it was a catwalk between two buildings.
My feet dug in as I pushed past windows filled with moonlight and paintings.
After I passed the last set of windows, the scenery changed. Instead of a pristine castle, I came upon torn paintings and broken furnishings. It was as if Mrs. Potts had not been here at all.
I hurried into a room—a large room—with destroyed furniture, half of a bed, and clawed-up walls and paintings. In the white moonlight I could see it all.
My breath and my constantly seeking eyes were all that moved here.
There was a wall of windows, some broken and some not. I walked to them, wondering if I could jump and make it out, but the cold wind coming in warned me I would die in the silly dress. I wondered if that had been part of the reason for me wearing it.
In the window, basking in the moonlight, I saw something I didn't expect. One thing not ruined.
It was a perfect red rose, planted in a pot and encased in glass. It had two leaves and the reddest petals I had ever seen. I stepped to it, wondering about the table it sat upon being in ruin, and yet the rose in the glass being whole.
A sound drew my attention to the right, startling me. Stumbling a bit, I nudged against the table with the rose. Air rushed past me as a shadow cast over the area. The rose and glass toppled a little but settled as huge hands wrapped around it, encasing it. The man was there, though I had not seen him move.
He sighed in relief and then lifted his hooded head to me without revealing his face. My insides twisted and tightened as I stepped back, hoping to be able to run from the room before he grabbed me.
“You should not have come here!” His words were a whisper on the cold wind.
I stepped back again. “I am sorry. You just-just scared me.”
“Sorry?” His tone shifted.
I stepped back again, tripping on something and stumbling again.
“You’re sorry—DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU COULD HAVE
DONE?” he screamed, almost roaring as he had before.
“YOU ARE A MONSTER!” I shouted back before I turned, fleeing the room the way I had come. I hurried along the windows filled with moonlight to the staircase, nearly flinging myself down it. I tripped and caught myself as I managed to find a door made of glass. One I had not been through.
It led to a side entry to the castle. I hurried out the door, ignoring the burning in my legs and the scraping of my feet on the cobblestone.
I jumped a large planter filled with old dead bushes and headed for the town. His roaring and screaming still tore through the night air, making it seem colder and darker.
I crossed the old moat and passed the gate before I heard him clearly, as if he were gaining on me.
“BELLE!”
My feet quickened but there was too much fear and not enough strength. I stumbled, looking over my shoulder and tripping forward. I cried out, wincing and tearing everything all at once. My knees, the dress, the stockings, the straps—all of it was in bloody shambles as I pushed myself up, hobbling through the ruins for the woods.
I reached the gateway before he caught up to me, pushing the noisy gate open and slipping into the forest.
I avoided the path, regretting it instantly. My feet were scratched and stabbed as I made my way to a spot I figured I could hide.
I knew there was no outrunning him, not injured and half naked, so I curled into a tree well—a wide and brush-free spot. I gripped to the bark as it scraped my arms and side, shaking and shivering.
My ragged breath and pounding heartbeat flooded my ears so loudly that I wouldn't have heard him if he was right next to me. Cold sweat coated me as I sat and waited for my breathing to become calm.
A low growl caught my ears when they cleared of my heartbeat. I shook my head, certain I misheard. But the growl was there again. I looked down at the scrapes on my hands and knees and knew: the wolves could smell me. I looked back at the path that led to the gate and wondered which of the two fates was worse.
I didn't get long to choose.
A stick cracked behind me, announcing the wolves.
I grabbed a branch and lifted it, screaming, “GET AWAY!” I swung it back and forth, regretting my decision to leave the castle at all.