Beauty and the Beast (an erotic re-imagining) by Shoshanna Evers Page A

ready to take things to the next level.
    The more…intimate level.
    Perhaps she could close her eyes and imagine the Beast was Frederick. It probably wouldn’t work, considering the sheer size of the Beast and his thick muscles and fur (he’d feel nothing like the way Frederick had felt in her arms), but maybe it would help her get in the mood.
    Frederick had made spankings sound almost fun.
    The Beast was waiting for her, prowling the sunlit atrium where breakfast was served. Bowls of fresh fruit—even oranges, which didn’t grow there, and had to have been shipped overseas at quite an expense—beckoned her to the table. Cups of steaming chocolate and little jam-filled pastries made her decision (if it was, indeed, her decision) a bit easier.
    She would dine with the Beast, and she would be pleasant, and good Lord in Heaven, she would do whatever she had to
    (whatever she desired)
    to get herself closer to her release date. To freedom, a mere six months away.
    And if she happened to enjoy herself during that six months…well, no one had to know. Here, alone in the castle, only the fairies would be witness to her submission to the Beast’s darkest desires.
     

4: Dining with the Beast
     
    The Beast caught the girl’s scent as she rounded the corner into the atrium. A night in her new suite had done her good—she smelled of rose water and linen, not fear-sweat and hay.
    He rose on his hind legs, to help her see him as more human. Still, she gasped and drew back against the doorframe, as if he’d risen to pounce.
    “Good morning,” he said. “Thank you for joining me.”
    Belle smiled hesitantly and stepped forward, allowing him to pull her chair out for her. “Thank you, sir.”
    “If this meal doesn’t suit you,” he offered, “you can always request something more to your liking.”
    “This is perfect,” she said. “Beast. Sir. Will you sit with me? Please?”
    The Beast nodded, his heavy mane swaying down his back. He’d grown unaccustomed to eating properly, at a table, in a chair. With silverware. As the years had worn on, he became more beast than man, and most of his meals now were eaten raw, fresh from hunting in the woods.
    “Of course,” he said, setting his enormous weight into the chair. “All chairs in this castle should be able to support me,” he added, glancing at the chair sternly. He’d given the castle its warning. If the chair broke under him now, it was in big trouble.
    “Those fairies of yours are quite something,” Belle said, daintily nibbling at a pastry.
    “How did you sleep, beauty?” he asked. Had she dreamt what he had dreamt? Did she see him, kiss him, in his human form? Or was last night a memory for him alone?
    “Um…” Belle took a sip of chocolate and smiled, as if to apologize for being unable to respond with a full mouth.
    The Beast waited. He had nowhere else to be, so Belle was either going to tell him how she slept (if she’d slept at all) or they would have a long, silent meal.
    “I had a vivid dream, to be honest. And I awoke feeling less than refreshed.”
    Belle looked at him closely. What did she see when she stared at him so?
    “This castle has a way of doing that,” Beast said. “Making dreams seem real.”
    “I need to know where you’re keeping Prince Frederick,” she said suddenly.
    The Beast’s fork clattered from his hand onto the parquet floor. “Pardon?”
    “Frederick. I saw him last night. He told me he was here, a prisoner in the castle. I must find him. Please, lead me to him.”
    “I can’t, Belle. That’s impossible.”
    He wanted to. He wished he could scream to the world about what had been done to him, about who he truly was.
    “What have I done to upset you?” Belle cried.
    The Beast dropped to all fours and paced the wall of windows overlooking the garden. “Nothing, beauty.”
    “Then please, stop growling at me,” she said. “It frightens me.”
    “If you want to be gone so badly, then perhaps we should