Beauty and the Beast: an erotic re-imagining
Beauty and the Beast
(an erotic re-imagining)
Shoshanna Evers
From bestselling erotica author Shoshanna Evers comes an erotic re-imagining of the classic fairytale, Beauty and the Beast.
With her father’s freedom at stake, Belle agrees to be the fearsome Beast’s prisoner in his enchanted castle. Held as his willing captive, Belle must submit to the Beast’s most primal desires to survive.
The Beast can’t let his little Beauty go free, not while there’s still hope that she might be the one to end his decade-long curse…and with true love’s kiss, return him to the Prince he once was.
Their story is one that begins with imprisonment—he in his monstrous body, she in a dungeon—but without this predicament, Beauty would never have met the Beast.
So we shall begin with what occurred on that fateful night when everything changed: when a lover was betrayed, a man deformed, and a castle shrouded in an enchantment…
Beauty and the Beast (an erotic re-imagining)
© 2014 Shoshanna Evers
Cover art by Rob Sturtz
www.SelfPubBookCovers.com
Electronic book publication, copyright © 2014 Shoshanna Evers
ISBN-10: 0991372212
ISBN-13: 978-0-9913722-1-8
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead or places, events or locations is coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter One (Ten Years Later)
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
About Shoshanna Evers
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
The story of Beauty and the Beast has been told and retold in many reincarnations since its debut as a French fairytale by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve, back in the year 1740. The tale we are more familiar with came later, in 1756 by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont. I particularly loved the black and white French movie entitled
La Belle et la Bête
, which was filmed in 1946. And, of course, we cannot forget the Disney musical from 1991.
There have been many, many other adaptations of this classic fairytale, including television shows, songs, operas, ballets and stage plays, and I have researched many of them. But every time I imagined the Beast alone in that castle, with Belle—his beautiful captive—I wondered what could have happened between them that a children’s story might omit.
My version of
Beauty and the Beast
is an erotic reimagining. It is
not
a tale for children. I have included some elements from the original fairytales, including how the Beast was seduced by the enchantress, the fairies that seemed to bring their magic to the castle, and the enchanted looking glass. The idea of Belle seeing the Beast’s true form in her dreams and searching for him by day in the castle is also inspired by the original tale. You will not find talking clocks or candelabras in my story, nor will you find Belle’s brutish suitor, Gaston.
You will find, however, what happens when a young man is imprisoned in the body of a beast—when he can only return to his true self if, and only if, he can find true love, and be loved in return.
And if that Beast finds his pleasure in the sight of a young woman, bound and at his mercy… and that young woman finds herself entranced by her burgeoning sexuality and the pleasures her experiences with the Beast provide her… well, dear readers—that is my story. The erotic story of Beauty and the Beast.
I hope you enjoy it.
~Shoshanna Evers, December 2013
Prologue
Once upon a time
, in a land far, far away, there lived a handsome young prince named Frederick. This is not his story alone, and this is not quite where our story begins. But without what happens here, Beauty would never have met the Beast.
So we shall begin with what occurred on that fateful night when everything changed: when a lover was betrayed, a man deformed, and a castle shrouded in an enchantment.
***
Frederick smiled as Nadine’s dress slipped to the floor. She covered her breasts modestly, but the teasing grin on her face told a different story.
“Am I distracting you enough yet, my Prince?” she asked.
“Drop your hands,” he said. Lately, it seemed he needed any distraction he could get.
Nadine laughed and lowered her hands, revealing the pale globes of her full breasts.
“That’s better.” He gently grasped her wrists and held them above her head, pressing them against the tall wooden column that made up the corner of her four poster bed. “But you mustn’t call me Prince.”
“I don’t care if your father disinherited you,” she whispered. “It’s a mistake. It will be fixed.”
Frederick didn’t bother arguing. With the King dead, nothing could be fixed.
He grabbed her scarf from the edge of the bed and wrapped it around her wrists, binding her in place.
“If you aren’t a Prince anymore, why couldn’t I come to the funeral with you?” Nadine asked. “Am I still your dirty secret, the peasant girl you fuck?”
Frederick responded by slapping his hand hard against her ass. The will hadn’t been read until after the King was buried, and that was over a month ago. His stepmother’s doing, no doubt.
“I think you’ve forgotten something,” he said.
Nadine laughed and tried to shrug, an impossible motion with her arms so high above her head.
“Do you really still want me, Nadine?” Frederick asked, punctuating each word with another spank. She moaned breathlessly. He ran his finger between her legs, touching her wetness, her desire. “I have nothing now.”
“You have me,” she gasped.
Frederick opened his breaches and thrust into her from behind, gripping her hips. Nadine grabbed onto the post and moaned with delight. He rammed into her, harder, until he could feel her cunny clench around his cock.
“Oh, yes, Prince Frederick,” she cried. “More.”
He gave her more, relishing every moment of it, until his climax overtook him and he pulled out, letting his seed spill onto her back, gazing upon her as it dripped down over her reddened ass.
Nadine seemed to believe he was still a Prince, that the enchantress who had married his father wasn’t really going to throw him out of the castle. But his stepmother despised him—and nothing would change.
Frederick released Nadine from her restraints, and she collapsed breathlessly into his arms.
“Do you love me, Nadine?”
She gazed up at him in a post-orgasmic haze. “How can I prove it to you?”
He kissed her lips. He considered telling her what she’d forgotten, but reconsidered with a wry smile. “Just…stop calling me Prince. And accept me for what I’ve become.”
***
Frederick slipped back into the silent castle. Nadine had forgotten it was his eighteenth birthday. When she remembered, he’d punish her for it (hardly a punishment when she always begged for more, but that was Nadine). Time spent with his lover over his lap would be the perfect birthday present.
He certainly wouldn’t be getting any presents at home. The grief that still filled the cavernous hall—long after his father’s funeral—threatened to close in on him, to suffocate him.
Frederick made it to his suite without arousing any of the servants, and sat on the edge of his bed. No use thinking about getting his old life back. There would be no grand feast to celebrate his birthday this year, nor any year thereafter. His stepmother had poisoned the King’s heart against him, and there was no way to undo the damage she had done.
How ironic that Frederick had been disinherited so any child the King had with his stepmother would become the next in line for the throne—and yet she’d never given his father a child. Now his father was dead, and Frederick couldn’t even properly mourn him.
Hard to mourn a man who never spoke to him, who believed in his heart that Frederick—at the tender age of four—had been the cause of his mother’s death.
Frederick picked up his journal, determined to jot down that evening’s sexual adventure. Determined to get rid of the images coursing through his mind. Images of his mother drowning to save his life.
His father was right about him. Frederick growled and shook his head, staring at the words scrawled on the page before him.
Just write. Forget. Escape.
A knock sounded on his dressing chamber door.
“Leave me alone,” he said.
Ignoring him, his stepmother opened the door, reclining seductively against the doorframe. “Now, now, that’s no way to speak to your mother, darling.”
Frederick didn’t bother correcting her, even though the word
Stepmother
was on the tip of his tongue. He looked away, not wanting to see her low-cut dress, or the way she ran her long, pale fingers through her jet-black hair as she stared at him.
“Your diary can’t be more intriguing than me, now can it?” she teased. She stepped inside his room, closing the door behind her. “Not to a boy who’s all grown up.”
The beautiful enchantress smiled and stood in front of him, her breasts at his eye-level, since he hadn’t stood when she entered. His own personal form of civil disobedience.
The journal flew from his hands by an invisible force, and he gasped.
“Pay attention to me,” she commanded.
“I have nothing to say to you. Get out.”
“I’ve been waiting for your birthday, darling,” she whispered in his ear, her breath hot against his cheek. “I think you’ll enjoy your present.”
With a lascivious smile, she pushed her dress down lower, revealing her dark pink nipples.
Frederick turned his head, not wanting to see. “I’m not interested.”
His stepmother pointed her finger at him, and just like that, his clothing ripped right off his body, leaving him naked next to his fine cotton suit. He looked down in shock—the garments were torn to shreds.
“Much better,” she laughed. “It’s getting interesting now, isn’t it?”
Frederick clasped his hands over his privates to cover himself. What in God’s name was this witch doing?
“You’re out of your mind,” he growled.
“Oh, come on, don’t be a cry baby. I want to see you. All of you.” She grinned and snapped her fingers.
His bed sheets pulled off his bed, almost throwing him to the floor. But then the edges of the sheet wrapped around his wrists, binding him, his nakedness exposed.
“Leave me be!” he shouted.
She ran her hand down his body, reverently touching his flesh. “My husband is gone,” she whispered. “You’re all I have left.”
“I won’t warm your bed in his place,” he said. “I don’t want anything to do with you. I’d rather take my chances on the streets.”
Frederick shut his eyes, certain that she would try to hypnotize him into desiring her. Her cold hand caressed his cock, and he shuddered.
He expected her to ravish him, using her enchantments to hold him against his will. Instead, she burst into tears.
“Wh-what?” he asked, looking up at her in surprise. “Why are you crying?”
His stepmother shook her head, a furious expression on her face. “Because you hate me so much.”
“I don’t hate you,” he lied. “I just don’t want to sleep with you.”
“Don’t you love me?” she asked, sounding needy, child-like. “Even a little?”
“No, Stepmother. Not even a little.”
“Fine,” she said, throwing her hands up in anger.
The bed sheets released him, and he sat up, rubbing his wrists.
His stepmother glared at him. “Don’t think I don’t know about that harlot you visit. She doesn’t love you either. Disinherited, not even a real Prince anymore—the only reason she lets you fuck her is because you’re so damn
handsome
.” She spat the word like it was a curse.