And then, the handle of the whip was between her shaking thighs once more. She bucked her hips against it, grinding her cunny down onto the handle, needing more. The Beast teased her, bringing her once more to the brink of climax before stopping completely.
She cried out again, before he even whipped her, when he stopped. Now she craved that lash, because if she could just live through that moment of pain, he would reward her.
Unless this—this teasing—was also her punishment. A sob wracked through her as the lash flicked against her thighs.
“Four, Sir,” she said. Again.
“Five, Sir. Six, Sir. Oh God, please, Beast, please—”
Now his hands were on her, running along the flare of her hips, and finally settling between her thighs. Moisture ran down her inner thighs, and she hid her face in the crook of her elbow. It felt so good, too good.
“Please,” she begged, and he kept rubbing her there, so slowly, so tortuously.
“Please, what?” he asked, and took her long hair in one meaty fist, forcing her to unhide her face.
“Please, Sir, Beast. Please let me come.”
“You are being punished, Beauty,” he said softly. He played with her clit again, moving his thick fingers so slowly she thought she might die.
And then he stopped. The Beast unchained her, and she sighed with gratitude, but her relief was short lived. He immediately repositioned her arms behind her and latched her wrists to the stone wall once more.
While the new position made her more comfortable than she’d been with her arms so high above her head, being bound in the Beast’s dungeon left her little room to be grateful for that small kindness.
“You’ll stay here tonight,” he said. “It will make you appreciate your accommodations in your suite upstairs, and our…arrangement.”
“Don’t leave me like this, Beast,” she begged, stepping forward the small bit her restraints would allow. The chains clattered as they bounced against the stone.
“You left me, Belle. You’re the one who walked away first.”
She groaned miserably, and his expression softened, as if he couldn’t help but to feel sorry for her.
“Perhaps in your dreams,” he said, “your playmate will relieve your discomfort.”
The Beast withdrew, leaving her alone once more in the cold, dark dungeon.
6: Beauty’s Library
The Beast wanted to see her in her dreams, he did. He wanted to be Frederick with her once more.
He took a glass of whiskey to the parlor and sat heavily. Could he sleep when she did—and was that even a requisite for the magic to work? The poor girl, how would she sleep when he’d left her in such an uncomfortable state?
The Beast went over to his desk and picked up the looking glass. The looking glass was no ordinary mirror; like most items in his castle, it had not escaped the enchantress’s spell. This particular mirror could show him anything he wished to see, without having to leave the castle walls.
“Show me my Beauty,” he said, staring at his monstrous reflection.
A swirl of fog hazed the looking glass, then cleared as if by a sudden breeze. Belle was as he’d left her, naked, chained to the dungeon wall, and in the sweetest distress he’d ever seen. She turned in her restraints, rolling her head back against the wall, and sighed.
“Sleep, Belle. I’ll see you soon.” The Beast set the looking glass down, knowing she couldn’t hear him, and sipped deeply from his glass of whiskey.
The wound on his chest was feeling better, so he didn’t have much of an excuse for laudanam, but perhaps he should take some anyway? Something, something to send him off to dreamland, where he could regain his masculine form and comfort his beautiful prisoner.
But the events of the day settled on his shoulders, and as he sat, he drifted off on his own, the glass dropping from his hand harmlessly to the sofa, only narrowly missing the stone floor by centimeters.
And in his sleep, he was Frederick.
Frederick rose from the sofa and ran his hands over his torso, confirming that he was, indeed, himself. He grinned rakishly and bounded down the hall to the dungeon stairs. What time was it? Would Beauty be ready for him?
“Belle?” he whispered into the darkness of the dungeon.
“H-hello?” she replied, from the far wall. “I’m here!”
Frederick lit a sconce on the wall, and warm light flooded their corner of the dungeon. Belle hid her face, as if doing so would somehow make her less naked, less vulnerable.
“Are you all right?” Frederick asked. “What have you done to be punished like this?”
He knew it had to do with the Beast, but at the moment, the two worlds seemed so far apart. Which was his true self, the Beast or the Prince? He didn’t know, himself. Right now, he was Frederick. That was all that mattered.